Mak nodded, his face etched in pain, grinding and clenching his jaw.
‘Keep him still,’ Kaal commanded.
Saba managed to maintain Mak’s scapula immobilized as her eyes flitted to his.
He held her gaze, his face severe, lips pursed. ‘Care to share how you knocked Shan out and escaped with his weapon?’ he asked.
Saba refused to indulge his distraction. ‘Long story, my love. For another hour, later, today.’
Mak sucked his fangs and kept gritting until his arm was bandaged and in a sling.
Soon, he was good to go.
Saba stood back and packed away the kit as Mak stared down Zolan and Shiloh.
His eyes were dark and stormy.
There was no knowing what he’d do, what decision he’d make.
The revelation that Saba’s uncle instigated a plot against their two clans was beyond her.
Mak confirmed as much. ‘Appears the Solanites and Nightshade cult have been plotting at the behest of Tewa to stir up a battle between Zolan and me, a war of attrition. He wanted to create a vacuum of power that would allow him to control both you and Shiloh and, therefore, leadership of the Order.’
‘Fokk him in particular,’ Saba snarled, trembling at the thought of what she might have lost today.
Mak perceived her terror and reached his good hand for hers, gripping it tightly after giving her a reassuring squeeze.
She relaxed, sensing he would be fair in trying to make it all right.
Zolan scrutinized him with a guarded expression.
He and Shiloh stood close, his arms around her. Her face was ashen, her stance stiff, strain still simmering between them.
Her hands rubbed her tummy as she consoled both herself and the child growing inside her.
Pregnancy suited her, Saba thought, as a stab of longing for a baby of her own went through her.
It was an unexpected sentiment at such a time as this.
She focused back on her sister. She’d had so much to work through in just a few minutes, and Saba was swamped with empathy for her.
‘Let’s talk,’ Zolan invited, his voice hoarse and broken.
‘Let’s,’ Mak murmured.
With a wince, he slipped his hand from Saba’s and sank into an armchair. He fixed his leonine gaze on Zolan, whom Saba was now hugging close. The pair united in their worry about how Mak might react.
‘You’ve lost control of your stronghold,’ Mak growled.
Zolan bristled. ‘I was focused on helping my people survive. I had no idea a fanatic group was working against me and us from within my trusted circle,’ he snarled.
‘So you knew nothing of these so-called Solanites? Tell me the truth. Or so help me, I will raze every Sidani bastion to the ground.’
Zolan unclasped himself from Shiloh and settled into a chair across from Mak. Where he leaned forward, hands clasped, eyes defeated. ‘I did not.’
‘Kaal,’ Mak clipped, twisting to find his brother. ‘Get -,’
‘On it already,’ Kaal murmured.
