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She doesn’t seem rattled by my vow of vengeance. No, she continues detailing the tiny piece in her hands with a brush so small it could be wielded by pixies. When I’m convinced she must not have heard me, she says, “How about we step back from the wrath and retribution thing for a second and simply talk through possible suspects like we’re a true crime podcast—”
“A what?”
“Something I waste way too much time obsessing on.” She flicks a glance over her miniature that tells me to stop interrupting. “My point is to look at it objectively and not take it so personally.” Gods, I adore my little warrior when she takes that tone.
“How can I not take any threat against you personally?”
“I’m the one who almost died. If I’m willing to set aside feelings to talk it through…”
“Fine,” I grumble. “For someone to have warped my powers, they would either need to have their own magic or access to another who does.” I can’t help but glance toward the cat rolling on her bed and the holes he has poked in the pillows with his horns. “Aside from me, Oggdalon’s the most powerful creature in the realm right now.”
The demon cat stiffens and makes an obnoxious growl, and I fight the need to return the aggressive warning.
“Absolutely not,” Meg says. “Oggie wouldn’t hurt me. Next suspect.”
I swear the demon laughs at me out of his cat mouth. “Darnell seemed eager to accuse Bess,” I tell her. “He’s right that she has the most access to other realms. If someone outside our world wanted to infiltrate quietly, she’d be the best point of contact. Plus, she’s the one who told you which stall to visit.”
Meg switches pieces and continues painting as if we’re talking about trivial matters, not treason. “Bess didn’t do it.”
“You’re the one who suggested that we talk about this without emotions.”
“It’s not emotions. It’s evidence.” She waves the tip of her brush toward the table and herself. “While we were at the market, Bess left an apron and drop cloths in here for me to work on my games. If she’d meant to kill me, she wouldn’t have bothered. Besides, she would never risk Tauren.”
“The blacksmith? What does he have to do with this, and how do you even remember his name? Did you meet him before the market?” Tauren’s as big as I am, and all bull with a reputation for using his massive size and skill with the few women he’s dated over the centuries.
“No, but Bess likes him.”
“Of course she does. He’s very good at his job.” This conversation makes no sense.
“I mean, she likes him. You know, she’s interested in him as a man.”
“How do you know that?”
She snickers. “How do you not, with the way she blinks her big cow eyes at him? Besides, Bess gossips all the time. Didn’t you wonder why she hadn’t mentioned someone special?”
“I try not to pay attention when she’s talking, unless it’s about what she needs for her work.” Seriously, when did my mate start talking with the servants about their love lives?
“What about Belaya?” she asks. “Could she mess with your magic?”
“No, she lost hers when she came to this realm.” I don’t say the terrible truth—that Belaya is who I would become if my world fell and I remained, a mere shell of myself. “No one except Darnell and I have magic inside my borders.”
“Bess doesn’t care much for Darnell. Could he have been behind what happened?”
“Maybe. Although I don’t know why he would attack you instead of coming at me outright. Plus, why now?”
“He could be taking advantage of you being distracted with me here,” she says.
“It’s a possibility.” One that I hate. I haven’t been the same since I heard my potential mate would arrive, and I don’t like being open to attacks. I have the sudden need to move, to pace, to do anything physical to release the dread that runs through me. Standing and lifting the basket of art supplies that she’s not using, I stop at the open pad of paper beneath. She has sketched my crest with shading and precision that few could achieve. “This is impressive. Where’d you see this? I rarely use it anymore.”
She ducks her head, and I can’t tell if it’s to better focus on her task or avoid me. “That’s the logo for my Mutter Udder Maniacs game. Originally, I planned to use it as the mark for my design company, not that I can afford to make games for a living.”
It takes a moment to process the meaning behind her words. “You saw my crest before you came to my realm?”
“In a dream,” she whispers.
I sit again, landing hard in the chair. The gods must’ve sent my fated mate a vision of this world. Had I missed signs from them of her coming? Would I have believed the omens if I had noticed them? Probably not. “Tell me about your dream.”
She doesn’t answer immediately. When the paint brush slips from her hand, streaking the piece she holds and splattering on the table, Oggie stretches his wings with a loud swish and flies to her lap. His obnoxious purr irritates me but seems to comfort Meg. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wake up with all these ideas and inspiration. Other mornings I have the answer to whatever problem has been stewing in my mind. That one came while my mom was in the hospital. She was really sick with… do you have cancer here in your world? Uh, tumors?”
