“Thank you for reminding me of our laws,” Mona Sephina said, suddenly smiling like a cat that had just gulped down an unsuspecting canary. Nolan and Hannah froze, caught halfway between the two Queens squabbling over them.
Mona Sephina’s eyes slid from the parents to focus on the children. And the acquisitive light that shone in those blue eyes as she looked over Dante and Quentin like something that already belonged to her made my stomach clench with foreboding.
“You are right,” she said. “Once they went rogue, I lost all rights to my former master at arms…” Somehow, I wasn’t surprised at hearing Nolan’s previous rank. “…and to my healer. But not to the children they conceived while still under my rule.”
“That law applies to simple bondwomen sworn to your service,” Hannah said, speaking up in her children’s defense. “It does not apply to healers. We have more rights. Our children belong to us.”
“Unless you cast aside those rights and turn rogue,” Mona Sephina said. Vicious satisfaction layered her words. “Then all your special rights are naught. Your sons belong to me. You two boys, come here.”
“No,” I said. I was deriving more and more satisfaction in saying that word to her. I was pretty vague on most areas of Monère law. I just knew what the others told me and what I picked up, as in now. But it couldn’t be much different from human law, I reasoned. Open, as such, to any interpretation you could throw in and get away with.
“Not so fast,” I drawled in a fashion that would have made Clint Eastwood proud, lounging back in my seat as relaxed as Mona Sephina was rigid. “They are no longer rogues. They belong to me now, remember?” I watched with satisfaction as a muscle twitched beneath Mona Sephina’s eye. “As such, Hannah’s rights as a healer still hold. Her children are hers.”
“I dispute that,” Mona Sephina said. And something about the way she said it, throwing it down like a gauntlet, made it seem more significant than the mere words themselves. And, of course, it was—my intuition was good about things like that. Not in other matters, like loving and trusting someone who had freakin’ killed me in another life and slaughtered all my people. But in things like this, it was dead-on accurate.
An expectant hush fell over our dining hall audience, a collective breath held as if they were waiting for something more.
“I challenge your claim,” Mona Sephina said, and the tense, waiting stillness dissolved with an almost audible sigh.
“What does that mean?” My question was aimed at Amber, sitting beside me. He and all my men had gone deeply still.
“In matters where the law is not entirely clear, a dispute can be settled by issuing a personal challenge.”
“You mean, like where might is right, winner takes all? She wants to fight me?”
Amber nodded.
“There is no need.” It was Dante who spoke, as I had somehow known he would. Of all the men here, even more than my own men, he would not want me fighting another Queen—not when I might be carrying his child.
He addressed Mona Sephina courteously. “Withdraw the challenge, milady, and my brother and I am yours. You need not fight to win us.”
Mona Sephina studied Dante and Quentin for a moment, savoring the pain in their parents’ eyes. Smiling triumphantly, she nodded. “Very well. I withdraw the challenge. Come to me now.”
Dante did as she bid. Quentin followed him.
As they walked to her, I told myself that they were doing nothing more than what they had come here to do—to find another Queen to serve. But the agony in Nolan’s and Hannah’s eyes, and the delight in Mona Sephina’s over their suffering, was just wrong.
Another Queen…any other Queen. Just not her.
“Wait,” I said, and Dante and Quentin halted, instinctively obeying me because in their hearts they still belonged to me. “I cannot agree to these terms.” Would not agree to them. I looked to Nolan, the only one of my men of whom I dared ask this because of his right as their father. “Can someone else accept the challenge on my behalf?”
“Yes,” Nolan answered. His eyes held understanding of what I was asking of him, and agreement to it. “If a Queen chooses a champion, he can fight in her stead. It would be my honor to serve as your champion, my Queen.”
“I choose you then, Nolan. Thank you.”
“Touching,” Mona Sephina said with a sneer. “But I have already withdrawn the challenge. The boys are mine,” she said and smiled slowly. “Of their own free will.”
“I dispute that,” I said. And calmly threw down the gauntlet. “I issue you a challenge in turn for them.”
She smiled coldly at me. “You do not know our laws well, do you? I am not obliged to accept your challenge. Only a fool would do so, and I am not a fool, despite what you may believe. Nolan was my best warrior. I have none who could defeat him.” She snapped her fingers at Dante and Quentin. “Come, as I command of you.”
They started forward again. And again I stopped them with one word. “Wait.”
There had to be something else, some other way. Power was only what you allowed someone to wield over you. I would not allow her to hold it over me or any of my people.
“We are at an impasse, Mona Sephina. I claim them, and so do you. I issue you challenge, and you cravenly decline it.” She stiffened at my words. “I would say that leaves both of us with an equal balance of nothing. Dante and Quentin have come here to seek service with another Queen at the fair. If we both yield our claim to them, I will uphold that original intent. At the service fair, I will bow out gracefully, and leave you with a clear shot at obtaining them then. Only then.”
“You try to grant me a right I have no need of,” Mona Sephina said coolly, “when they are mine already.”
“We are at a stalemate then.”
“No, we are not.” Mona Sephina turned to Dante. “I withdrew the challenge as you asked me to. Honor your word to me now, boy.”
Face stiff, he began moving toward her once more.
I stood, scraping back my chair. “Take one more step, Dante, and I will engage Mona Sephina in a fight over you right now, challenge or no challenge.”
Dante drew to a halt, his jaw set in a hard, grim line as he turned back to stare at me with a look in his eyes that clearly said: If I could get my hands on you right now, you would not forget it anytime soon. I thought you wanted me gone. Are you crazy?
Maybe I was. If so, it was entirely his fault for getting me pregnant. All those hormones.
My gaze swung back to Mona Sephina and I watched as her eyes narrowed into slits. She looked like a big cat that was considering pouncing and seizing her two young prizes, only a short reach away. Her men were tense and ready beside her. I felt my own men gathering themselves for the fight about to erupt.
“What if I serve as Mona Lisa’s champion?” Dante said into the sudden tense stalemate.
I saw Mona Sephina pause and consider it. He was young, only twenty years old, and the feel of his power was much less than that of her guards, all seasoned warriors. “I will accept those terms,” Mona Sephina said, nodding abruptly. “If she does.”
“Who will you choose as your champion?” I asked, not knowing why I did so. It would be the strongest of her men, of course, the one standing on her right. He was almost the same height as his Queen, but built like a massive bull. Power oozed from him like invisible heat.
“My champion will be Oswald.”
Sure enough, the warrior I had eyeballed stepped forward. I glanced from Dante to Oswald, and back again. Distinguished bloodline or not, reincarnated warrior who had lived countless lifetimes before notwithstanding, Dante still looked like a young pup next to the big warrior he would face.