Was this a truce?
Prince Lysander humiliated me, but was I wrong to doubt Magenta's plan of winning them to our side?
Luckily, Damelza had been so furious about Magenta stealing Bask (like the awesome warrior she was), that she ignored Ezekiel and slammed Fox and me against the wall with her magic. Then she'd interrogated us like we'd been part of a grand plot to make her look a jackass in front of the Duchess.
It’d made me wish that I had been part of a plot.
When Damelza had threatened to beat the truth out of my whipping boy, it'd been Lysander who'd sidled towards her.
"You could try that," Lysander had said. "But Midnight rarely admits the truth to his mischief under torture. Rather, he'll say anything to stop the lashes falling." I'd instantly glanced at the beautiful curve of Midnight's shoulders, who was Lysander's vampire whipping boy, as he knelt in the corner. Midnight wrapped his ash wings around himself. He ducked his head, and his dark hair fell to his waist in waves. How could anyone hurt him? "My royal personage has found that isolation and time alone to think about the consequences of his actions is much more effective."
Damelza had blinked. "You mean time-out?"
Lysander's mouth had twisted. "If one must look at it that way." His gaze had slid to us. "Shall we call it sending them to their room, while the rest of us help in the search attempt?"
I’d have thought that it Lysander’s way to humiliate me, but there'd been something in Fox's expression, as he hadn't taken his searching gaze away from Lysander, which made me take a sharp breath. In turn, Lysander had shuffled his feet.
Bor's beard, the fae was saving us. He was as good a liar as Fox. I had to admire that.
Damelza had nodded. "Excellent suggestion. But if the Princes don’t manage to retrieve the runaways before the staff do," Damelza's smile had become sharp at the way that Willoughby had stroked his hand along Lysander's arm, "then your whipping boy will take the punishment."
Fox had argued, begged, and ranted that he be punished, instead. Midnight hadn't said a word or even raised his gaze.
Once Fox and I had been shoved into the bedroom for our time-out, Fox had transformed into a cat like he needed some feline snuggling to bring down his stress. As a shimage, the most hated of mages, he'd been denied the right to choose when he shifted.
Now, I flinched, as Mist nibbled at the inside of my pocket. He neighed, demanding that I get in some feline snuggling too.
I pushed my guitar to the side, lifting Fox onto my knee. He put up a fake squirmy struggle, which ended as soon as I nestled him on my lap. Then he purred, kneading at my balls with his paws.
"Oww, I’ll be needing those, and that's not the type of milk you're looking for, pussy." I carefully extracted Fox’s claws and then tickled behind his soft ears.
Fox rubbed his head against my hand. I stroked down the length of his body but was careful to avoid his tail. I wouldn't admit it on pain of death by troll kiss, but his fur was like petting a cloud. It was almost as silky as Bask's hair.
And I'd never admit that, even on pain of death by troll screw.
I shivered. Trust me, that was a messed-up way to die.
When I rubbed one finger under Fox’s chin, he purred even louder. I loved that he no longer wore a Blood Amulet around his throat that controlled his powers, stopping him from shifting when he chose.
I'd free him. I'd free all the Rebels.
He might allow himself to be petted, but he wasn’t a pet. He was my lover and a powerful mage, whose only crime was to be born into a witch family as a male with magic.
I'd never owned a real pet.
Only once, when my attempt to kidnap a human and force them to become my friend had proved to me that I'd never be worthy of true friendship, Loki had returned home with something tiny and howling with pitiful arroos in his arms.
I'd jolted upright from my lookout outside our tent on the edge of the Alaskan lake. My hands had sunk into the sludgy mud. The dying sun had cast reflections of the snow licked mountains into the water like icicles. Loki and I had been fleeing for months, hunted by a band of the Bacchus cult, who'd almost caught us outside Michigan.
Except, I thought that their allies, the witches, had caught Loki, which was why he hid his tears behind fake smiles.
Loki's smile had been excited and genuine, as he'd dropped to his knees next to me and placed the squirming thing into my lap. My hair had spiked to red, and my brother Fenrir had growled out of his werewolf tattoos in greeting at the wolf cub.
The cub's fur had been dove gray. She'd circled around in my lap on wobbly legs, nosing at my hand, as I'd reached with my palm up, like she hadn't been sure whether I'd been a bed or a playmate. Then she'd gazed up at me with golden eyes, and my tattoos had howled again. My soul had thrilled at discovering another creature that felt like me.
Such wildness.
"A werewolf," I'd breathed.
It was adorable.
Wait, had Fenrir looked like this as a baby?
Loki had grinned. "Kids today and their obsession with vampires and werewolves. She's a normal cub." He'd stroked his thumb across her head like a blessing. "But she's beautiful, right? She's loveable..."
I’d studied dad's face. Like usual, it'd been shuttered in that elegant way of his. But there'd been something in his eyes that I'd only seen flashes of before.
Hope.
He'd worn the same look when he'd gifted me the guitar. Why had he longed for me to like the cub?
He always tried to give me so much, even when he had nothing.
I'd looped my arms around the cub to stop its attempts to squirm free. Fenrir had thrilled at the closeness. He'd been desperate for the cub to become pack, and I'd struggled to keep control.
She wasn't mine...
"Where are her parents? Her brothers and sisters?" I'd asked.
Loki's expression had darkened. "Most of the pack were captured. It was a full moon last night, which means that the witches were harvesting hearts for a spell. I know it sucks, but she was the only one who I could save."
Loki's eyes had widened in shock, as I'd lifted my arms from the cub to around his neck instead, dragging him in to rest my cheek against his.
"You're a dumbass." When I’d banged my forehead against Loki’s, he’d merely hugged me tighter around the shoulders.
"It has been pointed out to me before," he’d answered, drily.
"You went out on a full moon, where you knew there’d be witches," I hissed. "What if they'd..."
Caught you...hurt you...and you'd left me alone forever.
Loki had run his finger down the cub's snout. "By the norns, I never wished to. Yet doesn't it make your cub more precious for the danger it took to save her? Without us now, she'll die."
I'd glanced down at the cub, and she'd stared back at me. "But isn't it like dying to be tamed? You told me that you could never force anyone to belong to you."
Why did I have to say that?
Loki had become ashen, but he'd still reached out to smooth down my bristling spikes like he always had when I'd been agitated. "Huh, serves me right for lecturing you with my so-called wisdom. On fear of Tyr's wrath, I swear that we shall never cage or collar any creature. Don't we live like wild beings? Then she will too, and when she can survive by herself, then we'll free her."