Even tired as I was, I was aware of everyone’s surprise on hearing about my nifty energy-blast trick. That seemed to be a new ability for me.
“What about you, Quentin?” Dante asked, turning to his brother. “Why are you up here instead of with your Queen?”
“Dad called me when things got screwed up, and I came down to save your ass.”
“Did you have your Queen’s permission to leave?” Dante asked.
“Quit playing the older brother. You’re only older than me by six lousy minutes. Of course I got Mona Maretta’s permission, but she’s not my Queen anymore.”
By Dante’s sudden stillness, I gathered that this was more significant than it sounded to me.
“You were only with her for several months,” Dante said. “What happened?”
Quentin shrugged. “Got homesick, I guess.”
“Did she abuse you?” The question was asked in a dangerously quiet voice.
“With you as my big brother?” Quentin said mockingly. “Don’t be stupid. She’s not that dumb. Nah, she was actually pretty nice to me. Just wasn’t what I thought it would be. Maybe I was too sheltered. Or maybe I just grew up with too much human value. She treated me well, but I didn’t like how she treated other people. Plus, I think she was starting to get tired of me in bed.”
“Already?” Dante said. “Maybe Dad should have concentrated on teaching you how to use your other sword more adeptly.”
Quentin mock-punched him in the arm with enough force to sway him back several inches.
“Hah! I’ll wager I’m more adept with that other sword than you are now. No disrespect intended you, milady,” Quentin said, casting a quick glance at me, “or any slur on what you may or may not have taught this lout yet. We’re just joking around.”
The sudden apology—and mention of intimate matters between me and Dante—caused a flush of embarrassment to sweep over my face. I waved my hand in a never-mind, just-goon manner. Thankfully Quentin did, pulling attention back to him.
“You know the saying—two’s company, three’s a crowd? Well, Mona Maretta didn’t feel that way. To her, the number three was just a starting point.”
The choked sound I made drew a few concerned glances my way. My cheeks had to be brilliant red at this point. I fluttered my hand again, encouraging all to ignore me.
“Anyway, I was starting to grow tired of just being her appetizer, and only a small part of it. And I think she was starting to tire of my declining to join in on the more adventuresome bed sport she favored.”
“She was kind to give you a choice,” Nolan noted impassively.
“I know,” Quentin said. “She could have forced me with a simple command. Probably would have, in fact, had I been anybody else’s brother.” He waggled his finely arched brows at Dante. “Anyhow, I didn’t like living like that, by her whim, watching her treat her people as if they had no rights other than what she allowed. Like I said, she wasn’t that bad, just uncaring at times. I’d already made up my mind not to renew my one-year contract with her. When Dad called, it just expedited things. Having it involve your reappearance”—Quentin flashed a sardonic smile at his twin—“was just extra icing. When I asked to be released from her service to come to my family’s aid, Mona Maretta dropped my contract faster than a hot potato.”
“Why would she fear Dante?” I asked. That had been what he’d been implying.
Quentin glanced at his brother’s austere face. “Let’s just say he established quite a reputation at the last service fair.”
“What did he do to earn such a reputation?” I persisted.
When no one answered my question, I turned to Dante. “Tell me,” I urged softly.
“A Queen caused you a grievous injury,” Dante said, his face carefully free of expression. “I killed her men in retaliation.”
So it was partly my fault, I thought. “Men, as in plural, more than one,” I noted.
Dante nodded.
“How many men?”
“Thirty in total.”
I absorbed the information in shocked silence. “So many?” I whispered. “Just yourself, against so many?”
Dante dipped his head. “It was a serious harm done against you. Done with malicious intent.”
Serious enough to kill thirty men for? “What did she do to me?”
“If you do not remember it, I would rather not speak of it now,” Dante said. He bowed his head. “Please, milady.”
“He is correct,” Prince Halcyon said quietly. “You can talk of such matters later. She is clearly exhausted. You should allow her to rest.”
Everyone deferred to the Demon Prince’s wishes and all conversation ceased. Dante moved across the aisle to sprawl his length across the bench seat and stare out the window, while Quentin and Nolan busied themselves reading magazines. Chami took out a cloth and began cleaning a wickedly sharp-looking blade; Aquila nodded at me gravely and looked away. Prince Halcyon simply closed his eyes, setting an example of the rest he wanted me to get.
Everyone was cooperating except for me. I tried sitting back and closing my eyes, but my tired brain continued to whirl with Quentin’s words . . . Could have forced me . . . with a simple command. Probably would have. . . had I been anybody else’s brother . . .
Were all Queens like that?
They said I was a Queen . . .
I succumbed to another yawn. My body wanted to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t shut down. Plus, I’d always been a nervous flyer.
After fifteen minutes of torturous pretend sleep, I opened my eyes and looked across the small cabin. My gaze touched on Quentin, his young and open face, the most normal, affable one among them. From there it went to Nolan, Chami, and Aquila, who had all come to my aid, who were supposed to be my friends.
My glance fell upon the dark, resting countenance of Prince Halcyon and skittered away, uneasy, nervous, despite the fact that I was, allegedly, the Demon Prince’s chosen mate . . . maybe especially because of that. How could I accept as fact this supposed betrothal—to a prince of Hell, no less—when I had no recollection of the feelings that had led up to it? The whole story seemed like empty fiction, make-believe.
As to the others, despite all their helpful aid and assistance, I didn’t know them. The only one I trusted here, the only one I knew, was a confessed killer—of me (or, rather, me in a former life!) and thirty other Monère men. Again, knowing something but not remembering it made it seem unreal. The only real thing was what I had experienced with Dante. Absurdly enough, he was the only one I felt safe and comfortable with.
I left my chair and made my way across the aisle. Dante swung his feet down, and I settled into the freed-up space beside him. Ignoring the closed expression of his face, I rested my head against his shoulder. “I’m totally wiped out, but I can’t sleep,” I whispered.
Dante’s stiff, surprised body slowly loosened and relaxed. His arm came around my shoulder, and his other hand stroked my hair in a tender, soothing caress. “That’s all right,” he murmured. “Just close your eyes and rest.”
Held by him, surrounded by his comforting scent, I did. I closed my eyes and felt the tension in me ebb and float away.
HALCYON WATCHED HIS mate fall asleep in Dante’s arms, so exhausted she didn’t stir as Dante lifted her up, turned sideways, lifting his legs back onto the seat, and settled her in a more comfortable sprawl across his chest.
The two were lovers again; their intermingled scent clinging to each other’s skin. He didn’t begrudge the comfort sought and given, then or now. Indeed, Halcyon was grateful for it even while still bleeding from the sword thrust of her innocent question. I’m sorry. You seem familiar. Do I know you?
Oh, my love . . .
It hurt even more than Mona Lisa’s wariness of him. To be forgotten—everything they had shared. That brief, warm touch of her love on his lonely existence.