By small degrees, the brittle tension left Dante. The hot burning rage faded, leaving behind a chilling frost in its place. Trust me on this, it was a definite improvement.
“That was a stupid thing you did, little brother,” Dante said, extending his hand down to Quentin, “allowing him to hurt you like that.”
“Hey, you’re only older by six lousy minutes,” Quentin protested. Taking Dante’s hand, he let him pull him up. We were all linked briefly for a moment—brother with brother, my hand still holding Quentin’s. Then our hands unclasped, and the three-way connection broke apart.
“My apologies,” I said formally.
“No apologies needed, milady,” Nolan said in his deep voice. “No one is at fault. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say everyone is at fault, therefore no one person is to blame. Bring Wiley here,” he instructed Tersa. “He needs to accept us.”
Agreeing with the wisdom of that, Tersa tugged Wiley forward. Wiley bared his yellow teeth at his former captors, but he didn’t try to break free of Tersa’s hold as he could so easily have done. Wiley’s three-quarters Monère heritage gave him almost full Monère strength. He was much stronger than Tersa, who was only half Monère.
“Step to the side, please, my Queen.” It was a bit jarring for me to hear those words—my Queen—coming from Dante’s mouth.
“What?”
“Step to the side,” Dante repeated, his face set in hard, uncompromising lines. “If the boy goes ballistic again, I do not want you standing next to him.”
I hesitated. If Wiley went wild again, I could help restrain him. Next to Tersa, Wiley tolerated me the most. He wouldn’t intentionally hurt me. But the cold, implacable look in Dante’s eyes, and that slight dipping gaze down to my waistline made me swallow back my protest and take several steps back from them. Dante retreated as I did, and Nolan nudged Hannah behind him. Behind her husband’s protective bulk, the healer rolled her eyes at me and smiled, a woman wise enough to yield to her man’s natural, protective urges without arguing. It was the type of wink given from one woman to other in the same situation. The thought froze the answering smile that formed on my lips. Did she see Dante as my man? Did I see him that way? And last but not least—did he see himself that way?
I was obeying him. Had yielded to him twice already. But what other choice did I have? All that he had asked was for me to stay safe. Until I knew if I was pregnant or not, I felt compelled to obey his wishes in this matter.
Crap. There had to be a faster way of determining whether I was pregnant, other than waiting three long weeks for my period.
Tersa’s voice drew me back to the present drama. She said Wiley’s name and touched his chest. Putting a hand on Quentin’s arm—something that made the feral Mixed Blood growl—she did the same with Quentin.
“Quentin. Friend. Quentin is my friend.” She repeated it with Nolan.
It was almost funny…if it wasn’t so darn scary…to see tiny Tersa, almost birdlike in her delicacy and size, standing so fearlessly between the three males, two of them much bigger than her, all of them far stronger. Fearless was not a word one usually used to describe Tersa, someone who quivered uncomfortably in the presence of men, but it fit her well now. Steely determination shone in her eyes, was heard in her voice. You will all be friends, the rigid posture of her spine shouted.
“Friend,” Quentin said with a faint smile. Moving slowly, his eyes fixed on Wiley, he picked up the small dagger lying in the grass at his feet. “Friend,” he repeated, and offered the blade, hilt-first, to Wiley.
I didn’t have to look at Dante to feel the sudden tension emanating off of him in waves. I held my breath—we all did—as Wiley cautiously took the knife from Quentin.
Tersa, wisely, immediately took the weapon from Wiley. His hand tensed briefly on the blade, then with a faint shudder, he yielded it up to Tersa without any further struggle.
“Say it, Wiley,” she said, gentle determination lacing her words. “Quentin—friend.”
Amazingly enough, he did. Wiley opened his mouth and said the first words I’d ever heard the wild boy speak. “Quentin. Friend.”
Tersa had him repeat it with Nolan. When he uttered the words, “Nolan, friend,” she smiled at him, blindingly bright, and it was like the sun suddenly breaking out behind dark and stormy clouds.
“Good, Wiley, good,” she murmured, and led the boy away.
“She’s beautiful when she smiles,” Quentin murmured, earning a scowl from her brother, Jamie, who had been standing quietly next to Chami.
“And very stubborn,” Jamie said, sticking out his chin. “Comes with our red Irish hair.”
“She’s incredibly brave,” Quentin said with admiration.
“Not anymore. Not since…” Jamie stopped. Sighed. “But she’s different when it comes to Wiley. She’ll do anything to protect him. Don’t hurt the boy.”
“I won’t,” Quentin promised, eyes solemn.
And like that, the little drama was over. Mine, however, was just beginning.
FIFTEEN
ALL I CAN say is thank God for Safeway. That was one of the wonderful things about this country. That no matter where you went in the United States, even to the littlest rinky-dink, no-name town, you could always find the basics like a gas station, a bank, a McDonald’s. A supermarket.
It was the latter I found myself being driven to, with Aquila as my driver. I was lucky to have only the one guard. The rest of the men had sort of turned red when I’d baldly announced that I had to buy some feminine products at the grocery store. Aquila had been nominated to go with me, and he was not a bad choice. I knew I could depend on Aquila for discretion. Still, I felt bad about the knowledge—the possibility—I was going to burden him with.
“Aquila,” I said, when we were a short distance from the town, “what you see and what you hear tonight, you cannot tell anyone else.”
He glanced at me curiously, but nodded readily. “As you wish, milady.”
I guess that was better than saying, “As you command, my Queen.” But barely. I still squirmed over the absolute power given to me over my men, my people. The power that came with my mantle as Queen. I was more used to free will, and decided to treat his answer as that. Because he’d chosen to do so.
“Thank you, Aquila. And I apologize ahead of time.”
“For what?”
“For making you highly uncomfortable.”
He smiled, and his neat beard and small mustache shifted with the movement of his lips. I think it was the first time I’d ever seen him smile. He was one of the oldest among my men, and the most serious. Not somber like Tomas, but more proper, more severe in his demeanor.
“Being in your company can only be a pleasure,” he said, as relaxed as I’d ever seen him.
“Are you happy here, Aquila?”
“Yes, milady. I am the happiest I have been in a very long time. Your guards’ betrayal turned out to be a blessing for me.”
Not long ago, Aquila had been a rogue bandit under Sandoor’s command. My lover Gryphon had bartered himself in return for four of Mona Louisa’s guards to protect me during the vulnerable time before I was officially acknowledged as Queen. It had been a poor bargain, because those guards betrayed me into the hand of outlaw rogues at the very first opportunity. Aquila had been one of the rogues. He’d had a perfect opportunity to molest me, but had held strict discipline over himself and the rest of the bandits.
“I never thanked you, Aquila.”