“Why don’t you make him a Brother,” Beth interjected.
In the silence that followed, Wrath’s mouth dropped open, and it was a join-the-club reaction—Tohr’s jaw did likewise, and so did John’s.
“What?” the queen said. “Doesn’t he deserve it? Hasn’t he always been there for everyone? And he’s lost all his family—yes, he lives here, but sometimes I get the impression that he feels like he doesn’t belong. What better way of thanking him and telling him he does? I know no one doubts his strength in the field.”
Wrath cleared his throat. “Well, according to the Old Laws—”
“Fuck the Old Laws. You’re the king—you can do anything you want.”
More pin-drop silence swept in, clearing out even the sounds of the HVAC system blowing warm air through the ceiling vents.
“What do you think, Tohr?” the king asked.
As Tohr glanced at John, he was struck by how much he wanted to bestow the honor on the closest thing to a son he had. But Qhuinn was the one they were talking about.
“I think… yeah, I think it could be a good idea,” he heard himself say. “Qhuinn should be claimed, and the brothers respect him— Shit, tonight isn’t the only time he’s shined. He’s a stellar fighter, but more than that, he’s calmed down tremendously in the last year. So, yeah, I think he could handle the responsibility now, which is not something I might have said at any other time.”
“Okay, I’ll consider it, leelan. It’s a wonderful suggestion.” The king glanced back at Tohr. “Now, about that favor. Approach me, brother mine, and render thy form unto your knees—we have two witnesses now, which is even better.”
As Tohr complied and grasped the royal hand, Wrath proclaimed in the Old Language, “Tohrment, son of Hharm, are you prepared to have proscribed unto you, and you alone, the death of Xcor, son of an unknown sire, said demise to occur by your hands and your hands only in retaliation for a mortal affront against me this previous night—if said affront can be proven to be due to Xcor’s direct or indirect order?”
Placing his free hand over his beating heart, he said gravely, “I am so prepared, my lord.”
Wrath looked at his mate. “Elizabeth, blooded daughter of the Black Dagger Brother Darius, mated of myself, your king, do you hereby agree to witness my grant should I deign to bequeath it on this matter to this male, carrying forth the representation of this moment unto all others, placing also your mark upon parchment to commemorate this proclamation?” When she answered affirmatively, he regarded John. “Tehrror, blooded son of the Black Dagger Brother Darius, also known by the names John and Matthew, do you hereby agree to witness my grant should I deign to bequeath it on this matter to this male, carrying forth the representation of this moment unto all others, placing also your mark upon parchment to commemorate this proclamation?”
Tohr translated from ASL. “Yes, my lord, he does.”
“Then by the power held sure and true by myself through mine father, I hereby command you, Tohrment, son of Hharm, to go forth and perform the now royal duty of retribution on my behalf—if it is so supported by requisite proof—returning in future with the body of Xcor, son of an unknown sire, unto me as a service to your king and your race. Your pledge is a credit to your bloodline, past, present, and future.”
Once more, Tohrment bent to the ring that had been worn by generations of Wrath’s lineage. “I am, in this and all things, yours to command, my heart and body seeking only to obey your sole authority.”
When he lifted his eyes, Wrath was smiling. “I know you’ll bring that bastard home.”
“You got it, my lord.”
“Now get the fuck out of here. The three of us need some goddamn sleep.”
Various good-byes were exchanged, and then Tohr and John were out in the corridor in an awkward silence. Blay had since fallen asleep outside that other recovery room, but he wasn’t resting—there was a deep frown on his face, like he was brooding even in the midst of his REM.
A tap on his forearm had Tohr focusing on John.
Thank you, the kid signed.
“For what?”
Supporting Qhuinn.
Tohr shrugged. “Only makes sense. Shit, the number of times that guy’s thrown himself into battle with all guns blazing? He deserves it—and that Brotherhood nomination stuff shouldn’t be about bloodline, but merit.”
Do you think Wrath will do it?
“I don’t know—it’s complicated. Lot of history to deal with—the Old Laws would have to be reworded. I’m sure the king will do something for him—”
Down the corridor, No’One stepped out of a doorway, as if she had been drawn by the sound of his voice.
The instant he saw her, he lost his train of thought, everything he had locking on her robed figure. Fucking hell… he was too raw to be around her, too hungry for life-affirming contact, too disinclined to make good decisions.
God help them both, but if he walked down to her, he was going to take her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that John was signing something.
It took every ounce of self-control to force his head toward the kid.
She was so worried about you. She’s been waiting out here with us—she thought you had been injured.
“Oh… well, shit.”
She loves you.
Okay, well, didn’t that make him want to crap in his pants. “Nah, she’s just… you know, a compassionate person.”
John cleared his throat, even though his hands were doing the talking. I guess I didn’t know that you guys were this serious.
Thinking of how upset the kid had been, Tohr waved away the comment. “No, I mean, it’s no big deal. Honest. I know who I love—and who I belong with.”
Except that brush-off didn’t feel right, not on his tongue, not to his ears… not to the center of his chest.
I’m sorry about… you know, losing it before, John signed. It’s just… Wellsie’s the only mother I had, and… I don’t know. The idea of you with someone else makes me want to throw up—even though that’s not fair.
Tohr shook his head and dropped his voice. “Don’t you ever apologize for caring about our female. And as for the love thing, I gotta say it again. In spite of what it looks like from the outside, I will love one and only one female for the rest of my life. No matter what I do, who I’m with, or how things appear, you can take that shit to the bank, son. We clear?”
John’s rough embrace was difficult to bear—because letting down the kid had been a killer, and it was tough not to worry about doing it again in some way.
It was also hard because Tohr’s convictions were heartfelt and honest… as well as Wellsie’s doom. Weren’t they.
God, was he ever going to find a way out of this mess?
As that panicky thought occurred to him, he shifted his eyes and looked down the way to No’One’s slight, still form.
Behind her, Lassiter stepped out and just stared back at him, the disappointment in the guy’s face so apparent, it was clear he’d somehow heard what had been said.
Maybe all of it.
FORTY-FIVE
As Tohr walked off toward No’One, John resumed tending his little patch of linoleum outside of Qhuinn’s room.
On some level, he didn’t want to see the Brother go down the hall to that other female. It seemed fundamentally wrong, as if one of the laws of the universe had decided to run in reverse. Hell, paralleling it with his own life, the idea that there would ever be another female aside from Xhex for him was anathema: Even though he was in constant agony without her, he still loved her so much, he was asexual.