It was Carlos.
Sven stiffened and Mac gave a low growl, responding to his sudden flash of ire. Cara, though, showed no outward response. She just said, “Over the past four years, the magi have had to rely on their instincts when the prophecies and magic have failed. I may not have magic of my own, but I have good instincts, and they’re telling me that this is right and good. I don’t need to take the aj winikin to prove anything to anyone, except maybe you.” Her voice cooled. “You forced the servant’s mark on me once before. You’re not going to do it again.”
That got a bunch of nods from the rebel side of the room, but Sven got an uh-oh feeling when he saw a few of the other, older winikin shifting in their seats.
“There’s no evidence that you’re supposed to be sleeping with him, is there?” Carlos persisted.
She lifted her chin and met his eyes, but she was talking to all of them when she said, “I’m not sleeping with Sven because of the nahwal or the gods. I’m sleeping with him because I’ve wanted to be with him for a long time now, but only recently became convinced that our being together will in no way be a detriment to the winikin or the war. And I’m sleeping with him because when I was strapped to that altar with the water over my head, he was the person I thought about, the one I wanted to see.”
Sven’s throat lumped as, for the first time since the meeting began, she turned to look at him. And for a moment her eyes were those of the woman he’d woken up with, the one he’d made morning love to. He wanted to tell her what it meant to hear her say that, wanted to give her something in return, but couldn’t.
Her eyes warmed, though, as if he had, and she turned back to the crowd and said simply, “Then there he was. He was there for me when nobody else was.” Her eyes went to Carlos. “If you want to condemn me for putting myself first in this, then that’s certainly your right. But I think you’re wrong. The other magi have shown that there’s room for love and family in their society. I think the same should be true for ours.”
She paused a beat, and then swept the crowd. “Next?”
There was a quiet moment—Sven thought a few people in the middle of the room were teetering on the brink of applause but didn’t dare try it—and then JT said, “Okay, I’ll go.”
“Fire away.”
He asked about the First Father’s resurrection—Sven had a feeling Cara had planted the question, and gave her points for anticipating the need—and that turned things away from their relationship. She fielded two more questions along those lines, ignored a third that tried to circle back around to the bedroom, and went into more detail about the hellhound’s second appearance and what it might—or might not—mean.
And, watching her cool competence and grace under fire, Sven’s brain chewed on an old refrain: I don’t deserve her. But this time it wasn’t because of his restlessness or the knowledge that he couldn’t give her what she needed. Instead, it was because she flat-out awed the shit out of him. She was tough, edgy, and sexy as hell, but with an inner vulnerability that she didn’t mind showing. Yet at other times, she could be an elemental force, immovable and yet flexible, facing down her father on one side and kindling hope on the other. And she did it all without magic, without having been raised into the belief that she was somehow special, better than everyone around her. She did it simply by being her.
Nope, Sven thought with sudden clarity, he didn’t deserve her… but he was damn well going to try to live up to her for the next three—
Dizziness slapped through him with the suddenness of a squall, nearly dragging him to his knees. He stayed on his feet by force of will, not wanting to embarrass either of them by passing the hell out in the middle of her speech, but his vision blurred and brightened, and suddenly he wasn’t in the hall anymore; he was in a rain forest, racing along a narrow game trail with his nose to the ground. Searching, searching. Hot sun. Cool shade. Thirsty but can’t stop now. So close, but where? He glimpsed a cave mouth, heard the sound of water inside, caught the whisper of a hated scent, and felt a low growl rumble in his chest. Enemy!
Adrenaline chased away the vision. The rain forest fragmented, disappeared, and then he was back in the hall. He was still on his feet, thank the gods, and the only one staring at him was Mac. His familiar’s ears were plastered forward, his eyes intent, but he stayed silent.
Sven didn’t know what to make of that. Hell, he didn’t know what to make of any of it. If this was his subconscious telling him to move on, it was going to have to work harder than that, because he was staying put, damn it.
Gritting his teeth, he refocused on Cara.
She seemed to be wrapping things up. “We can’t pretend the Nightkeepers don’t exist, or that we can do this without them. That’s just dumb. We need to work with them, and yes, we need to support them while they do the things we can’t. But we have what they lack, what they need, and that’s the strength of numbers. So I’ll ask you now to work with me and Sven, and with the Nightkeepers, while we all do our absolute damnedest to pull this plane through the end-time and into a new cosmic cycle.”
Pausing, she looked around, then pointed to the chair JT was sitting in. “From there to the window is the center line. If you agree to follow Sven and me, stand on that side.” She indicated the traditionalists’ side of the room. “If you refuse, take the other side.” She waved to where the rebels sat. “I’ll give you a ten-count. When I hit ten, that’s the vote.”
She started with “one” and there was a generalized shuffle. By “three” the pattern was clear: The middle of the room was drifting to the “yes” side, the outskirts to the “no.” On “five” it looked like a fifty-fifty split, and Sven’s gut knotted with a rising tide of frustrated anger.
“Six,” Cara said, her face starting to go grim. “Sev—”
“Hold it,” Sven snapped. “Just hold it right there.” She stopped the count and turned to him with a warning head shake, but he wasn’t having it, wasn’t having any of it. “Wait a minute,” he said. “I’ve got something to say.”
He halfway expected the winikin to shout him down or tell him he was out of line. It was a tribute to Cara’s impassioned speech, he supposed, that they didn’t. Or maybe they were waiting to see what she did. A test of allegiance.
She gave him a long look, as if trying to decide whether he was going to help or hurt her case, but then nodded. “You’re out of order, but I’ll allow it. You’re just as much a part of this as I am.” And with that he thought she might have lost some ground, which meant he damn well better make it up, and then some.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the risers with Mac right behind him, conscious of the way all eyes had to zoom up to keep him in range, seeming to halo him with a big old neon sign that said, He’s not one of us.
No, he wasn’t. But he thought he could help them if they would just give him a chance. Man up, he told himself. Get this right. She deserves better than your usual best. Starting now.
Problem was, he saw only one way to tip the scales. And it was going to be a hell of a risk.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I know some of you are pretty pissed at me right now, at least a couple of you with good reason.” He sent a nod toward the two guys who’d been hurt in the fight; one looked startled, the other thoughtful. “And what I’m about to say probably isn’t going to win me any points from the rest of you… but are you out of your fucking minds?”
That got him a stirring of the crowd, a few scowls, and Cara’s low warning of, “Bad idea.”
Maybe it was. But it was the only one he had. “Look, I know you’re probably saying, ‘Who the hell does he think he is, talking to us like that?’ But that’s the thing—I don’t see winikin or magi; I never did. I see people. And as one person to a bunch of others, I’m asking whether you’re out of your fucking minds. We have a chance to do something good here, something special. Fuck, we’ve got the opportunity—hell, the mandate—to save the godsdamned world here, and you’re dicking around over semantics?”