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“I’ll just go with justice for now. You’re the one with all the flowery words.”
“Damn right,” he said, squeezing her tighter. “And I say what you did to that piece of shit was pure fucking poetry.”
Her father hadn’t been the only one in the stronghold who’d been stunned when she gave the order not to kill him for the witnessed attempt on her life. Oh, she’d been more than tempted to. Had almost done it, even. But every time she looked in the mirror, she couldn’t stand the idea of a murderer looking back at her. That was what she would have become if she’d had him executed. A monarch no better than her father.
Besides, death was a coward’s way out. If she truly wanted him to know the extent of the vengeance she wrought, what better way than to build up the monarchy according to her vision, instill the love of her people into every decision she made, and grow their commerce by fiftyfold, all while carving him out of the bloodline and banishing him to the very people who’d lost their beloved lycan leader to the king’s own games?
The whole construct of capital punishment hadn’t just needed an overhaul but a female’s touch, as Bronze loved to point out to her.
She couldn’t say she entirely disagreed.
Clara shifted in his arms and rested her chin on his chest, giving into her wolf’s very insistent urge to rub up against him. “Let’s not discuss him. He’s not worth it. I’d rather focus on happier things. Speaking of which, will all of your brothers and their mates be joining us for dinner tonight?”
“Are you kidding me? They wouldn’t miss it. Eun Hee is, and I say this with all the respect I have for my beloved queen, the single best hire you’ve asked for my input on. The female is a beast in the kitchen, and Iron’s already looking forward to the lycan’s japchae. It’s those glassy noodles, man. Who knew they were made from sweet potato starch?”
“She is quite magical,” Clara agreed but stumbled a beat before pressing him further about what she knew still weighed heavily on him. “Will Rhode be there this time?”
Bronze sighed deeply. “I don’t think so.”
“But he assured you he wasn’t upset about the relic’s power being spent.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a spy. It kind of goes without saying that deception is part of his game.”
“Your brother would lie to you?”
Bronze twisted his mouth with careful consideration. “I think he’s been through things none of us know about, and he may never reveal them to us. All we can do is be there for him and leave the door open for whenever he decides to walk through it.”
“You truly are a magnificent male, Bronze,” she said as she rose up to kiss him. “And to think I almost closed the door on you entirely.”
“Nah. I would have muscled my way through it eventually.”
“Oh yeah?” The corner of her brow hitched in a mock challenge. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because I’ve got stamina, princess.” Dark promise flared brightly in his citrine eyes, and her stomach tumbled beneath the force of his words. “That and a shitload of motivation. And if it takes another eternity of swearing however many oaths I need to in order to prove how much I love you, well, I’ve got nothing but time.”
As Bronze’s mouth peppered her neck with sweet, tantalizing kisses, Clara smiled and sank into his embrace. An embrace that she had finally come to know and adore and would do so thoroughly for the rest of her days.
Life was a game, after all, and she had the best partner to play with.
The silence in the den’s great hall was oppressive in its weight. Tall granite walls long ago carved into caverns were their own form of sentinels. Ironic, really, especially when Rhode was the only one left behind while the rest of the angels and their mates had gone to the lycan lands for dinner.
Even in solitude, in a place that had become as true of a home as he’d ever had, he couldn’t escape his stone jailors.
Rhode leaned on his bo staff and covered his eyes against the shame that always flooded his system whenever his mind wandered to the abyss of all he’d lost. It had become a private collection of sorts, a book of memories one only took out when they wanted the reminders of how far they’ve fallen and had no interest in the ropes dangling around them, offering a way out.
His anger did not lie with Bronze or any of his brothers. After all, they had rescued him from Cyro’s domain. Without their aid, well, he didn’t want to think about what his existence would look like. There were rare lucid moments when he imagined that, had he not been saved, his life couldn’t possibly have been worse than what he’d already endured.
Then again, he knew firsthand just how imaginative Cyro could be.
Rhode shook his head, banishing the thoughts away as was his practice, and calmed his breathing by choosing an object in the room to center himself around.
Big mistake. Huge. Because there wasn’t a single item in the space that didn’t remind him of his lesser seraphim status among a mansion of sentinels. The tapestries on the walls depicting images of mortal history he’d not seen, the small practice area’s array of weapons he’d no experience with, even the modern machinery in the kitchen, none of which he found intuitive.
He had been a spy. A commander of a powerful legion of seraphim.
But never had he been a sentinel, no matter how thoroughly they’d welcomed him into their home and their hearts.
Rhode’s heart clenched tighter at the distinction, at how much he’d lost and how far he had yet to go. Entire civilizations had passed him by. People. Languages. Species. All while he’d been rotting away as Cyro’s captive, a plaything to the demon charmers and their toxic tortures and experiments.
