“Whatever you want is fine with me,” he said quietly, the words holding more than one meaning.
I shrugged free of Juliette and stepped towards him, letting his arms surround me as I settled against his chest. We were still in the hallway, but my people were used to me hugging Numair. They wouldn't see it as a sign of weakness. Even if it was. Numair was kinder than me, physically stronger, and a source of ease and comfort, but I outranked him. His life and welfare were in my hands. I shouldn't have been seeking comfort from him; he should’ve been seeking it from me.
I let him hold me for a minute, then stepped back. He let go reluctantly.
“I don't think you're in the mood for the hot tubs,” he said, tucking some hair behind my ear. He wrapped his fingers around mine and glanced at Juliette. “Let's walk to the wine shop and splurge on the good stuff.”
“Never mind the wine shop,” I said. “I have the good stuff in stock. We can get the owner's discount.”
It was tacky business practice to drink my own stock, but whatever. Tonight was for grief and to celebrate the lives we lost. Tomorrow, I'd be responsible again.
We staggered back home with several bottles of wine, and I headed up to my rooms. I wasn't getting into a hot tub covered in dirt, blood, and sweat.
After a quick, ruthless shower, I exited to my bedroom.
Juliette sat on the edge of my bed, drinking wine straight from a bottle. I strode towards her and snatched it away to take my own long swig.
“You won't tell Numair or the others how fucked up you are right now,” she said. “But I know.”
I settled cross-legged on the bed, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Of course she knew. “We lost twelve more warriors.”
If I screamed, everyone would come running, and I didn't need that kind of melodrama.
“I can get you some of that human shit for tonight if you need it,” she said.
I couldn't afford to indulge. I shook my head. “We're on tenterhooks. Once things settle down, we can go to New York and spend a few days with my cousins.”
She stole the bottle back for a sip, then returned it. We drained it in less than ten minutes, a sorry way to treat a bottle of red.
I blinked down at the bed, the comforter blurry.
“Reanne, Blaque, Vittoria and Ilandriel. Terelsyn.” The names of several of my House who'd died today.
Shame burned in my gut. I wasn't strong enough to protect them. What kind of leader survived when her people didn't?
I leaned my forehead on Juliette's shoulder as her arms wrapped around my neck, almost strangling me. Ilandriel was her first cousin, closer to her in the family blood Line than we were. She keened as we clung to each other.
Eighteen warriors in two days. Eighteen of my family.
My prayer had failed. How many more people would we lose if this white flag turned red? Could I keep shouldering the burden of their deaths in my quest to avenge my mother and brother?
And my mother. . .this was what she went through for centuries longer than I. This never-ending grief and wondering who would be next. I’d barely slept, barely functioned during my “normal” days worrying about the next death. And when I’d led strikes, I'd obsessed over following the plan to the letter because disaster was always in the details.
I didn't know how much longer I could do this without breaking. Maybe it was my human blood. My skin was thinner.
Juliette held me, and we let each other cry here in the quiet of my room.
“Come on,” she said hoarsely. “We need to fix our faces before Numair comes looking for us.”
Because no one could see us crying.
“And,” I said with a deep breath, “we need to pretend like this was a victory. The House needs a celebration. A real one.” Especially since after these funerals, they would have at least one more.
I pushed away from her and we spent a few minutes in my bathroom undoing the damage of a torrent of weeping, not making eye contact because that might set the whole thing off again.
Makeup, a touch of glamour, and when we left my bedroom dressed and pleasant expressions in place, no one knew we'd been bawling like little girls.
I didn't join the hot tubs, let the moans and laughter wash over me and sooth my rawness. We honored our dead by telling stories, singing and dancing, fucking. Eventually we shut down the entire block and brought out tables of food. Our musicians and neighbors joined us. Many of them were relatives too, anyway.
