“Maybe he should be concerned about waking me.” I keep my voice even. Somehow.
Tereille slips an arm around Édouard's stiff shoulders, whispering in the Commander's ear. Probably trying to calm him down.
Piercing gazes sharpen to points. No one here is stupid, unfortunately for me.
Juliette unsheathes a blade and turns on them. “Any of you speak of this, and I’ll slit your throats and make bloodbroth to serve your children.”
Lela is the only one in this room with offspring, but point taken.
Numair touches Juliette’s shoulder, his hazel eyes hard as he adds support to her statement. “We remain loyal. If High Lord Danon finds we ill-treated his sister once he returns, he'll be pissed.”
“You think he's still alive after years rotting in the palace dungeon?” Édouard sneers, voice flat.
Juliette lunges for him and Numair grabs her arm. Technically Édouard can reprimand her for this display since she’s a knight under his command…but she'd get him back for it later.
Tereille shifts in front of his mate, calm and smiling, but his expression a bit harder around the edges.
“Ard, that's not helpful,” he says, and casts me an apologetic smile. “Dan is still alive. We're sorry, Rinne. Everyone is under stress right now.”
The words stab into my heart. Danon is the only living relative of my mother's direct bloodline, at least on this side of the Realm gate. I can't lose him.
…perhaps I should have thought of that before I murdered Embriel.
The thought almost feels like a whisper of Darkan’s voice. Malicious, tearing away any delusions I allow myself.
“We have work to do,” Tereille continues. “Can we fight on our down time?” He gives the others his disappointed puppy look. Thatpuppymorphs into a slavering Darkhound when triggered, but okay.
“What downtime,” someone mutters.
After a moment, Édouard flicks his gaze around the room and narrows his eyes.
They nod. My cousins will hold their tongues. For now.
“Édouard's right,” I say as we begin a final weapons check. “The Prince is waking because of me.”
Juliette glances at me, her body vibrating with tension. “You don't know that, and speculation is as pointless as your useless guilt.”
She turns her back on Édouard. Numair angles himself to keep an eye on her and the blade still in her hand.
“It doesn't matter. We can't abort.” I answer the unspoken question despite gnawing worry.
Numair glances at me, eyes softening. Pretty even for a Fae male, brown hair brushes below his ears, just touching his broad shoulders. “You should sit this one out, Rinne—no, don't give me that look.”
Édouard speaks, terse with strangled hostility. “She should be holed up in a safehouse before her presence draws the Prince and gets her and us killed.”
My shoulder blades ache as my fingers flex. I’ll hole his ass up in an entirely different way. As a child, I'd admired Édouard’s strength and fierceness in battle until I'd overheard him saying someone should have drowned the mongrel at birth. Since then I have maybe gone out of my way to annoy him at every opportunity.
“Ah, I didn't know you cared,” I drawl.
“About a reckless brat? What I care about is the well-being of the House.”
Juliette turns on Édouard. Numair edges closer to her, prepared to leap. She can't take the Commander. She’ll earn herself several broken bones and a week out of commission. Numair handles Édouard by ignoring him, the best tactic for someone like that.
Feed a troll, it would only get fat. Then sit on you and crush your bones.
“The point,” Numair says, “is that you're Heir. You shouldn't be in the streets like a common warrior.”
I finish checking my weapons to avoid strangling either of the males, and once again seriously consider an all-female unit. “My father, not I, is head of the House while Danon is imprisoned. He's safe behind our walls.”
