I half expect him to free himself. Instead, he scowls down at me and snaps, “She did her best.”
“And her best was severely lacking.”
“Her best was fucking perfect.”
“If you consider a zigzagging line perfect, sure.”
“Considering the situation, she…” He halts. His eyes narrow on my face. “Fuck. Was it you? The apprentice?”
“The one and only.” Despite myself, and the situation, I smile.
Gabriel’s lips part, as if the knowledge that I treated him all those years ago brings him awe and delight. “It was you,” he repeats.
“I guarantee you, my stitching techniques have much improved.” My fingers slip lower, tracing a handful of cleaner white scars that crisscross down his forearm. “Even better than whoever stitched these other ones.”
“I’m sure you’ll have the opportunity to show me very soon. I collect cuts easily and often.”
“Yeah, I…” A flash of disappointment slashes through me. It morphs into a disoriented confusion that I cannot interpret, and I bite my lower lip until it bleeds, hoping to hide it.
“What?” he asks softly.
“I…” I look up to meet his eyes. Swallow. Think—unbidden, unbound—that it would have been nice to never stop healing him. To be there every time he was in need of medical attention. To know that I’d be there for his next cut, his next illness, his next broken bone. “My mate is already very unhappy at the idea of me continuing to work. I doubt he’ll let me treat you ever again.” I let my arm fall to my side. My breath is sudden and deep and shuddering. Something is happening to me, something that has to do with Gabriel’s scent and my prolonged presence here, something I cannot fully understand.
“Love,” Gabriel tells me, little more than a whisper. His hand finds the side of my face and wraps around it. “Your mate will pay dearly for ever thinking that he could tell you what to do.” For once, his tone sounds more like a promise than a threat, and the kiss he presses against my forehead feels like the stamp of his seal.
Chapter 14
THE SCENT Gabriel
Leaving her is about as easy as ripping out my own arm.
However, years of discipline count for something, and I make myself do it anyway. Still, when I join Martia in the elevators to go meet with the lieutenant generals, I’m in a shittier mood than usual. “Any news on last night’s explosion?” I ask.
“We’re still working on that,” she explains, “but there doesn’t seem to be much evidence tying it to House Larsen.”
“What about the rest?”
“They’re being very messy. Our informants have reported that Lord Laren reached out to the heads of the other Houses and tried to rope them into joining forces to overthrow you.”
I snort. “He’s so fucking predictable.”
“Yup. He got shut down, of course. Late last night he dragged Lennart and Gunner to speak to the council. Who reminded them of the concept of law.”
“Fantastic.” I nod. “That leaves them two options: take it on the chin, or launch another strike.”
“And we all know Lord Larsen would never choose the former.” She grins. “You gotta give it to Ivar—claiming the Right is having the effect we hoped on House Larsen. They seem to be getting sloppy and a little desperate, just like he predicted.”
“Ivar predicted Lennart would object to the Right and give me a chance to kill him on the spot.”
“Okay, he may have been overly optimistic on the timing, but we’re getting there. Plus…”
I glance at her. “What?”
“It doesn’t seem like you mind.” At my lifted eyebrow, she elaborates, “Having the girl around, I mean.”
The elevator changes direction and begins to move vertically. I turn to Martia, my arms folded on my chest, and wait for her to continue. She has never been one to mince words.
“I have eyes, Gabe. And I’ve known you for fifteen years.”
I suck the inside of my cheek. “Both facts.”
“None of this is normal.”
“And by ‘this,’ you mean…?”
She gestures in my direction, entertained. “The way you’re letting some Omega you met less than twenty-four hours ago get under your skin while you’re at war with your political rival.”
“Lord Larsen is no rival, just a fossil rotting in entitlement, and his days are numbered. As for the Omega, I first met her long before yesterday.”
She frowns. “Did you?”
I don’t bother to reply, but my hand lifts to my arm, and I nearly groan in frustration when it encounters Kevlar instead of warm skin. For the first time in my life, I resent my armor. I want to trace the scar she left on my arm. The place where she marked me long before I knew who she was or what she would grow to become. Kuznetzov’s daughter, too.
Fuck. She was there all along, wasn’t she?
“It’s unexpected,” I admit.
“What is?”
“Her.” I take a deep breath. Look straight ahead. “I’m going to speak to the generals, and then I’ll make sure everything is in place and that there’s nothing Lord Larsen can do without me finding out. I have a different job for you.”
“Which would be?”
“I need you to make sure Lennart is kept busy elsewhere for the rest of the day. I don’t care what you have to do. Cut his Achilles tendons if you need to.”
“With pleasure. And after that?”
I feel myself smile. “I’m not giving her back, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“For how long?”
Forever. That’s the only possible answer. But I can’t tell that to Martia, because even I know how deranged it sounds. “For however fucking long I want her.”
“Gabe, it’s… You might not have a choice.”
“I always have a choice.”
Martia sighs. But then she asks, “Her scent changed. You noticed it, too, right?”
After a beat, I nod.
“It’s so much stronger than even last night. I’ve never seen anything like it. There is something very wrong here.” Her throat works. “Think Lennart Larsen is cut from the same cloth as his father?”
I consider the matter. A wave of anger courses through me, but I stave it off. I can be patient, at least for short periods. By the end of the week at the latest, I’m going to give Lord Larsen and his son exactly what they deserve.
“For Lennart’s own sake,” I say, “I really hope he isn’t.”
Chapter 15
THE GARDEN Sofia
That afternoon brings a partial Low, one not predicted by the tide watchers. It’s something most people in the stronghold barely notice, as the water falls only enough to free the last five or six floors of the stronghold, and it probably won’t last longer than ten hours. Still, it’s a perfect opportunity for the engineers to take care of some repairs that need to be tackled from the outside.
Gabriel is gone, and from an overheard conversation between Ivar and Bastian, I gather that he’s busy with important and probably supersecret meetings. Nearly all the soldiers are focusing on the maintenance work. That leaves me free to roam the military area, which is in the southern wing of the third level from the top. A Beta guard trails after me, keeping an eye on me from a few feet away. I wonder whether she’s here for my safety, to prevent my escape, or to protect others in case I become deranged, but there are so few people wandering around the corridors, the second option must be the correct one.