She didn't object. It was well for the strong to respect the strong.
Li Lei approved of Rule Turner. Her daughter-in-law did not. While bewailing Lily's choice of mate, Julia Yu had shown enough sense not to harp on the man's ability to turn wolf, since shapeshift-ing was hardly a flaw in Li Lei's eyes. Instead she'd made much of the fact that the man wasn't Chinese.
Julia was prone to shallow thinking. Li Lei had pointed out tartly that if she'd wanted her children and grandchildren to marry only Chinese, she would not have left China.
Cullen Seabourne looked up from his plate, which he'd cleaned without, she suspected, at all noticing what he ate. He saw her looking and winked.
Cheeky. She shook her head at him, but he would know she was not offended. She had a soft spot in her heart for a beautiful rogue. What woman did not? She did not allow this to blind her. Cullen was a dangerous man. He possessed both power and obsession, and if those had helped preserve him during his years as a lone wolf, that existence had also driven great cracks through him.
She liked him very much. Li Lei took another bite of the frit-tata, which was excellent. She was glad her granddaughter's lover was teaching her how to cook. Her mother had certainly failed in the attempt.
Cullen was flanked by two she did not know. Lupus bodyguards. They would eat quickly, then replace the other two guards, who were still outside, so they could eat. It was sensible for Rule Turner to be guarded, though she knew he experienced their presence as part of his cage.
At the moment, Rule Turner was more dangerous than his sor-cerous friend because his own danger was so much greater. Li Lei wished her attempt to help him had not failed.
She frowned. Li Qin should not have spoken as she had. The risk had not been great. Li Lei's body would have thrown off the poison. Probably.
Of course, Li Qin also disapproved of her using her gaze as she had. It had been years since she had done so, at least to that extent. But she did not regret using it today. Why ask for what you knew would be denied? Rule Turner would not have agreed to let her try to take his poison into herself.
On Rule's right, his warrior brother ate quickly and efficiently. She had great respect for Benedict. He'd made of tragedy a forge, attaining the purity of a weapon. Not that she knew the nature of his tragedy—one did not poke into the painful places of a man one respected—but she recognized its effects.
She knew tragedy. And survival.
Benedict turned to smile at Toby, seated on his other side and chattering away. Li Lei's heart filled. Children were life's greatest gift. They were not, as many silly people claimed, the hope for the future. True, they carried the future around as if it held everything yet weighed nothing, but that was their own gift from the Creator, not one they could share. Nor was it the easy love they offered that made them precious; like most sweets, that was a keen but fleeting pleasure. Their true blessing lay in the way they opened numb or embattled hearts.
This boy shone brightly. It spoke well for Rule Turner that his son possessed both courtesy and curiosity, along with a fierce and brimming well of intention, as yet largely unrealized.
A pang stroked through her. She missed her own son. Edward's passion for the ordinary had been a frustration, even a disappointment at times, but she understood that it arose from his own disappointment. The magic in her blood had passed him by, choosing instead to alight in his middle daughter.
Who sat now on Rule Turner's other side, doing an excellent job of hiding her fear. She'd eaten very little, but aside from that was carrying on well.
Lily hadn't asked her grandmother to help her lover. She hadn't fluttered over her, either, after Li Qin's ill-judged revelation. Lily did not flutter. She'd offered neither reproaches nor questions, a restraint that earned her many points. She'd simply kissed her grandmother on the cheek and looked into her eyes.
Spoken thank-yous were all very well, but Li Lei preferred the unspoken sort. She was very proud of her granddaughter. If the fear was great, also… ah, well. She had yet to learn the trick of living without fear.
Li Lei's gaze moved to the last person at the table. Cynnai Weaver sat at the foot, which was not proper, but Lily needed to be near Rule. Her hair was absurd: a stiff, bleached mane cropped too short for any grace or beauty. Her skin was extraordinary. Quite beautiful, if considered without bias. But to wear one's isolation so flagrantly… that spoke of great strength, great anger, or great pain.
Not that the three didn't often travel together. Cynna's accent and clothes—she wore a hideous gray suit—spoke of her origins from the lowest rung of society. Li Lei did not hold that against her, but she was not an egalitarian. The poor were not the same as the rich—for which one should thank God, since the rich were often boring, their minds and souls stultified by privilege. But poverty was more likely to birth meanness of spirit than nobility.
Lily had told her that Cynna Weaver went to Dis with her and Cullen to save Rule. Lily trusted the woman. Li Lei reserved judgment but thought that, of all those present, Cynna was most like Benedict. But Benedict had passed through his fire. The flames still licked at Cynna; many of her choices still lay ahead.
Cynna was stiff and worried now, watching the others or her plate, speaking little. She'd shown them the new mark on her hand, which she believed came from her old teacher. None of them—not even the sorcerer—could tell what the mark was meant to do, but Cynna was certain she would know if the spell became active.
Li Lei was extremely curious about Cynna Weaver.
Some of what Lily had disclosed earlier had come as a shock. A blow, even, she thought, sipping her cooling tea. Her granddaughter had been in acute peril, her soul sundered, half of her trapped in a hostile realm. And Li Lei hadn't known, being on the other side of the world, seeking ghosts.
She should have known better. She did know better. Ghosts were never the least help to anyone.
Oh, her son had called to inform her of the externals, the parts of the story visible to everyone. Edward was not so foolish as to try to keep such things from her. But neither he nor Julia knew exactly what had happened to Lily—only that she'd been wounded, that her Gift and her lover had been missing for a time… and that she had somehow brought dragons back to the world.
Emotion clutched her so tight and fierce it tore her breath jway for a moment. But only for a moment. So much had cfianged…
So much was changing, and would continue to change. She looked at Li Qin seated next to her and obeyed a rare impulse. She reached for the other woman's hand and squeezed it.
Li Qin looked up, surprised. Her cheeks flushed faintly with pleasure. She gave Li Lei that sweet, serene smile.
Love arrived in so many guises. Though it had taken her years, Li Lei had learned not to spurn any of them. She nodded at Li Qin and released her hand.
It was time. "I will speak now."
TWENTY-SIX
"I cannot fix it."
Until Grandmother spoke those words, Lily hadn't realized how much part of her clung to the idea that Grandmother could, indeed, fix anything. That she would know what to do for Rule.
Childish. If her fear had redoubled after that failed effort, it was her own fault. She'd hidden her hope from herself and was paying the price. Add guilt to that for the way Grandmother had risked herself, and what little she'd been able to eat rested unhappily in her middle.
"By all means," Rule said, "speak."