“I want to hook you up and let you visit,” Strike said. “And gods know I’d love to bring them back here, not just for you guys, but so Hannah and Woody could come back, too, and because we all enjoyed having the kids around. But at the same time, I’m not willing to bet that the Xibalbans are out of the equation, not the way you’re proposing. Similarly, I can’t rule out the Banol Kax. They don’t seem to be able to get through the barrier right now . . . but is that a reality, or is that what they want us to think? Not to mention that they may still be able to punch through the barrier to create an ajaw-
makol, even if they’re unable to pass through themselves.”
Patience gave him credit for talking to her rather than Brandt. She probably shouldn’t have been mildly surprised—Strike was gender-blind when it came to warrior stuff, assigning duties based on skill rather than sex. And she had a feeling that Leah had likely cured him of any residual chauvinism that might have come from his being raised in the human environment, by a royal winikin who was firmly entrenched in the Nightkeepers’ patriarchal, male-dominated society. The queen had managed to maintain her individuality without losing her mate’s regard. Patience envied that.
“I know it’s a risk,” she said now, softly, “but aren’t we all taking calculated risks these days? And let’s be honest—we may not have lost the war yet, but we’re not winning it yet, either.” She took a deep breath, only to find that the air carried a hint of the aftershave she’d bought her husband for the wayeb festival—the Nightkeepers’ nod at a Christmas-type holiday. Not letting herself dwell on the scent, or the low churn it brought to her midsection, she said, “I don’t know whether we’re going to win or lose this war, but either way, I know for certain that I don’t want to spend my next—maybe my last—two and a half years separated from my sons. I’ve already lost a year with them. I’m asking you
. . . I’m begging you. Let me at least see them. Just a glimpse. That’s all.”
She paused. To her astonishment, Brandt reached over and took her hand, squeezing tightly. She thought his fingers might even have trembled a little, letting her know that he cared far more than she’d realized. Tears stung her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. She was a warrior, after all.
Sighing heavily, Strike shook his head. “I hope you both know how much I wish I could authorize a visit. The council has brainstormed some options, even, but we just can’t see a way to absolutely protect Harry and Braden while giving you access. They don’t have their bloodline marks and they’re not connected to the barrier. Which means that as long as we don’t contact them, and vice versa, there’s no way for the Xibalbans or Banol Kax to find them. They’re absolutely safe.” The king paused, looking suddenly far older than his thirtysomething years. “This is one of those times when I have to be the bad guy. As much as I understand how awful this is for you, I have to do what I think is best.”
Patience’s mouth dried to dust, and dull anger kindled in her chest, making it hard to breathe. “You have no idea what I’m going through. None of you do. Or have you lost track of the fact that Brandt and I are the only ones here who are actually married, not just jun tan mates, and we’re the only ones who are parents?”
“The winikin—” Strike began.
“The winikin raised us, but they’re not our parents. There’s a difference.”
“Not to some of them, there isn’t.” But Strike didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to tell you where they are, and I’m not going to arrange a meeting, or even an invisibility-cloaked look-see. I want you to stay away from them. Let Hannah and Woody do their jobs while you do yours.” He fixed her with a stern look and reached for his belt, where he wore his father’s ceremonial knife. “I want you to swear to me, on your—” The normal-size door inset into the heavily carved ceremonial panels guarding the royal suite swung open and Leah stuck her head through, interrupting with, “There you are! Hurry up, will you?”
Strike broke off and swung around. “Did you get Anna on the line?”
“Yeah, but she’s trying to escape. Better move your fine ass.” Leah’s attention shifted from Strike to the others. “Unless you’re busy?”
“We’re done here,” Strike said, thoroughly distracted now. Brows furrowed, expression suggesting he viewed the upcoming convo with his sister with both anticipation and dread, he turned back, reached out, and gripped Patience’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said for the second—or was it the third? —time. “Be strong and do your best. That’s all any of us can do.” Then, shooting Brandt what she strongly suspected was a mated man’s look of commiseration, the king turned on his heel and beat it for the royal suite. Moments later, the door swung shut at his back, leaving Patience and Brandt out in the hall. Together. Alone.
Before, what seemed like an eternity ago but had been only a couple of years, they might have taken the opportunity to sneak a few kisses, maybe more. Now, although Brandt kept hold of her hand, he scowled down at her. “What the hell was that?”
She bristled. “Excuse me?”
“Please. You know damn well you agreed to hold off on talking to the king.” But his eyes softened and he caught her other hand, holding her still when she would’ve shifted away. “We’re on the same side here, sweetheart. I want what you want.”
I thought you did, once, but I feel like I don’t know you anymore. I knew Brandt the man, not the White-Eagle mage. The man had loved their sons to the exclusion of everything else except her. The four of them had been a unit, a family. But he’d changed since their arrival at Skywatch, which had been followed by the revelation that they’d both been hiding their true natures, pretending to be human when their respective godparents—aka winikin—had raised them to be more. He was harder now, and had lost the playfulness she’d loved about him. And his sense of humor wasn’t the only thing that had disappeared; so had her belief that he put his family first, no matter what.
Even now, as he looked at her, those damned gorgeous brown eyes were pleading with her to play by the rules, to be part of the team. As far as she could tell, that was the deal. If she behaved herself and bought into the king’s paradigm, Brandt would be the guy he used to be. She’d seen flashes of that man even recently, though he seemed buried beneath the stifling weight of tradition, responsibility, and Brandt’s unwavering belief that the king’s word was law . . . to the point that she sometimes wondered whether he was using that paradigm to hide something else. More secrets.
She thought she saw a hint of those secrets now, as she looked into his eyes and tried to find the frat rat she’d met on spring break, the architecture student she’d married, or the man who’d been beside her as she’d given birth to the twins. When she couldn’t find any of those safe, familiar incarnations of her husband, she gently drew her hands from his. “I’m sorry I disappointed you.” Rising up on her tiptoes, she brushed her lips against his and felt tears sting as the familiar heat rose at the touch, then subsided when she eased away. “I’ve gotta go . . . you know. Do something.” She made a vague gesture in the direction of the main mansion and fled, afraid that if she said what was in her heart, she’d make things between them far worse than they already were.
Jade pushed through the keypadded archive door near midafternoon. Although she had headed for the archive intending to run some additional searches on the star bloodline, once she was there, she found that she wasn’t in the mood for research. She was restless and churned up. Edgy. Unsatisfied.