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“The fuck she’s not! She is Ongahri now. You have no claim over her.” Pure rage filled Fadon’s body.
“This is a dangerous situation,” Demos said, so calmly and logically that Fadon’s hatred of him almost trumped the raging of the rut. “You don’t look to be in any position to judge the severity of what will happen in the next few minutes.
“I assure you, Owl, I know exactly what is happening. I have vowed to protect her. You are nothing but a mutt doing the Owl’s bidding.”
Demos stood unfazed by Fadon’s venom. “I have also sworn to protect her, Captain. Until she is in the hands of her betrothed, Lysander of House Trajan, that is my sole duty. Unless your name is Lysander, you have no claim on her either.”
Fadon stared into Demos’ eyes, seeing the threat, the adamancy, the unbreakable conviction. He knew the Servant would not give on this. But something niggled at him like an annoying worm, way in the back of his mind, the part that still held sway as captain of the Ongahri army. Then it came to him.
“You know what she is, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
Fadon knew, right then and there, that things weren’t what he thought they were.
Had he been played? He remembered how the man before him had not, in fact, been the one to visit the Mor. Had not been the one to make the Fealty arrangements with the queen. All those times he had disappeared at camp. Always the one to tend to Sierra when she felt ill. And his lack of scent… every human had a scent.
In Fadon’s rut-addled brain, things were starting to click. But what was the end result?
He risked taking a step closer. “Why did you withhold this from me? I had every right to know! Do you have any idea—”
“We don’t have time for this, Captain,” Demos said, his voice as cold as the winter storm around them.
As if on cue, a howl rent the air, and Fadon’s overly-sensitive hearing picked up snarling not too far away. His men. He had to hurry.
Fadon’s jaw clenched in impatience. “I don’t know who you are or where your allegiance—”
“I will keep her safe until the time is right,” Demos cut in, speaking quickly now. “She belongs to Lysander, and I will deliver her to him, with or without you. But you must let me pass now, Captain. We are running out of precious time. She is in danger. Even from you. Especially from you.”
Fadon started as if he’d been slapped. He knew the man spoke truth. He growled in frustration. Her safety was all that mattered. Sierra was more than his brother’s betrothed—she was everything now.
The sounds were coming closer.
“Fuck!” Fadon rubbed his head, wanting to tear out his hair. “Fine! Get her to safety. But hear me now, you Owl bastard. I will fucking kill you if you hurt her. Do you understand?”
Demos only stared, then said, “I will send you a message when it’s time.”
“You know what she is, truly?” Far away, Fadon heard a horse whinny. He waited for the answer.
Demos turned his head in the direction of the horse. “She will be safe. I swear it.”
Why did he refuse to answer?
The snarls and yelling were closer now.
Fadon had been in many battles, but nothing had ever been this hard. The only weapons he could use were his instincts, which he had no choice but to trust. He didn’t like the man, but his gut said he could trust Demos in keeping Lysander’s future wife safe.
“Fuck!” Fadon spat again. He felt like he was losing his mind. Her scent, Demos’ infuriating pomposity, his blasted men in their rut. “Go. Before I change my mind. Keep her safe.”
He watched on as Demos ran, a sleeping Sierra tightly clutched in his arms. Fadon’s thoughts ran hot and scattered. If Demos knew what she was, then he also knew how to help her. How long had Demos known? Obviously, he’d been helping her all along. She was now lost to the heat, however, and whatever tonics he’d been giving the princess were apparently not strong enough.
Only one thing would help carry her through her heat, and if it wasn’t done, then she would die.
Fadon roared.
Part Two
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Chapter 16
