“Well, son. It’s like this,” Alan Danville, one of the most respected members in the pride—and with Michael gone—probably the most respected, answered. “You beat Quince in a Pride Fight. That makes you pride leader. Did you or did you not win? You’re standing. He’s not, correct?”
“I, well, yes. But I didn’t know it was a Pride Fight.” Those antiquated battles for supremacy still happened? “And now that I think about it, something wasn’t right with Castille. It wasn’t a fair—”
“Nonsense. You won. I witnessed it. So did Nettles. Ignore Everton.” In a lower voice, he whispered to Miles, “Everton overlooked Ayers’s cheating. My guess is Ayers drugged Quince somehow, because the boy doesn’t smell right. And he didn’t fight at top speed either. A little sloppy, if you asked me.”
“Huh?”
In a louder voice, Danville continued, “You see, Ayers has been pushing to take over where Lex left off. Quince, naturally, wasn’t having any of it. So he asked me to settle the score by watching over a Pride Fight. An old tradition we rarely use anymore. Mostly we vote as a council, of course. But our council’s been pretty messed up since Michael died, I’m sorry to say.” Danville sighed, then smiled. “But hey, we’re good now, aren’t we Miles?”
“Good?” As reason returned, he started to make sense of it all. And he realized Quince had never been or done all those bad things of which he’d been accused.
He glanced at the group of Ayers’s supporters moving past him. Alissa scowled at Joy as if she wanted nothing more than to wipe her off the face of the planet.
“You lied to me,” he said softly to Alissa, but she heard him because she looked his way.
Alissa smiled through her teeth. “Hey, Miles. Welcome home.”
He glanced back at his sister, who kept a paw on Quince’s torso, protecting what she obviously considered hers.
“See? She’s standing where her loyalties have always been—with the enemy.” Joy sniffed. “You owe me and Quince a big apology. Oh, and I want my bracelet back. I gave it to Quince. It’s his.”
“Nice looking couple, aren’t they?” Ellis asked as he joined Danville and Miles. “I’m thinking we’ll be back to three lieutenants again. And boy, am I glad about that. So Miles, we’re going to take the guilty into the cells. Dana and Willow are drafting a notice to all the pride. We need a meeting, big time. But I think we should hold it in the House once Quince is on his feet. You need him and us for solidarity, but I don’t see anyone protesting your appointment.” He glanced at Danville. “That sound about right, sir?”
“Yes, yes.” Danville waved him away. “I’ll pass the word to the other judging council so we can at least tell everyone that there’s been an official change. ’Course, the others will spread the rumor.” More cats filled the area, everyone talking at once. “And boy,” he said to Miles. “You’re going to have to move into the estate. With Jace, Ellis and Quince working for you, you’ll have the pride whipped into shape in no time.” He slapped Miles on the back. “Now I’d best be going. Talk to you tomorrow at two in the conference room. Don’t be late.”
Miles watched, dumbfounded, as Danville walked away whistling. The field was abuzz with cats and people staring at him, nodding and smiling. Ellis and the others rounded up Ayers’s group, dragged the dead away and tended the wounded.
A few cats had gathered around Quince and carried him back to the House while Joy trotted by his side. Miles changed back into his cat form and hustled after her, full of questions needing answers.
Quince had told Miles to meet him here, knowing he’d be involved in a Pride Fight. Was Miles there to defend Joy in case things had gone sour? Then why had Quince egged Miles on with all that smack talk about Joy?
Had Miles actually inadvertently become pride leader? The others acted like he had, but it made no sense. He followed Joy into the House, scenting Quince’s blood and that odd taint that didn’t belong on him. A poison or sedative of some kind.
Miles felt guilty for having smacked around the half-conscious asshole, even though Quince had asked for it. For so long he’d thought Quince guilty of awful crimes, only to find out it had been a lie.
Yet, would his sister, the smartest of them all, if truth be told, really stay with a male who raped and killed to rule? No way in hell. Joy had a temper and a definite idea about right and wrong. Like the rest of his sisters, she wanted to be treated with dignity and respect. And love.
He wondered about the bracelet Quince had left with that letter. The bracelet was old. He remembered Joy trying to foist one on him years ago, before he’d tossed his in the trash. But Quince had his still. What did that mean?
He followed his sister and Quince into the room that Michael had used. Now it belonged to Quince, the pride leader. Past pride leader, according to Danville. Shit.
“Joy?” She sat in the corner, still as a statue, watching the doctor and two assistants cleaning Quince’s wounds.
He remained a large black cat, but his chest rose and fell evenly.
“He’ll be fine, Joy,” Doctor Hicks assured her. “A lot of bloody cuts, but they’re pretty superficial. Well, except for the one on his abdomen.” The one Miles had made. “I’ll stitch him up. He’ll need a few days to rest.”
“And that drug in his system?” she asked, sounding nervous.
Miles moved to sit next to her, not saying anything. Just for support.
“Myron?” Doc asked his assistant. “Smell like Forissol to you?”
Myron nodded. “I tasted a bit of his blood. Yeah. Forissol. Crappy-ass Hunter sedative. He’ll be out for a good twelve hours, but it’ll slow his system enough to heal better, actually.”
“Okay.” Joy sounded relieved.
“You stay with him,” the doctor ordered her. “He’ll be out of it for a while. I’ll be here tending the others. Myron’s going to hang around for the next few days to check on him. I’d stay, but I’m needed for Annabeth. She’s due to give birth any day now.”
“I know.” Joy nodded. “Thanks, Doc, and tell Annabeth I’ll be seeing her soon.”
“I will. Anytime you need help, just ask.” Doc Hicks glanced at Miles and nodded. “Pride leader.” Then he left with Myron close behind and shut the door after him.
Joy walked to Quince’s side and put her head next to his. She licked his nose, then rubbed her cheek against him, moving slowly and gently.
The obvious love between them humbled Miles, and he lowered to his haunches to sit and wait without speaking. His questions could hold. While Joy looked over her mate, he’d look after her.
That’s what big brothers were for.
Chapter Ten
Five days later, Quince sat up in his bed in his own bedroom, tired of lazing around—which was saying something for a cat—and swore at Miles, glad Joy wasn’t around to hear him. “Look, shithead, I accept your apology. You’re on my last fucking nerve. Get over it already. I have.”
Miles sighed. His humility had been fun the first two days, but Quince couldn’t handle it any more. He wanted the arrogant, annoying, fun-loving Miles back. The guy he used to be able to pal around with. Not this sap.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I just hate that I believed something like that about my best friend.”
Best friend. Inside, Quince was overjoyed. God, he’s missed Miles more than he’d thought. “Yeah, well, I’ll guilt you about that for years. But you’ve played out the ‘I’m sorry’ card. Get lost so I can bang your sister when she gets back, would you?”