42. Chapter Forty-Two #2
I studied the woman carefully. She was beautiful in the usual Haven 3 way, not as tall as I might have expected, but perfectly proportioned, with lush curves, a heart-shaped face, impeccable cheekbones, and eyes an intense purple-blue found nowhere in nature.
Her hair was a vivid amber hue and—I couldn’t help but notice—looked as if it had been washed in the last twenty-four hours.
I ran a self-conscious hand over my own wild mane, thinking that perhaps I should have taken Rumbeard’s advice to heart.
The man in question approached, along with Jim, Big Red, and Orion, all of them reaching for their weapons. I waved them down, pointing excitedly to Ursa. “It’s Ursa!”
They slowed, giving each other confused glances. This polished, well-dressed man clearly wasn’t what they had been expecting, just as it hadn’t been what I was expecting.
Only Orion did not look confused. He held my gaze, his expression oddly . . . urgent. “Doc. Come with us.”
Most likely, he was worried about the guards. I looked over at the two armed men, who were watching the approach of the Brethren of Blood with renewed wariness. “Don’t worry. They’re with me.”
I realized, after I said it, that this probably offered very little comfort, since none of Ursa’s new friends had any idea who I was. I imagined he must have talked about me, though, just as I’d spoken about him; doubtless, this ginger woman, at least, would be familiar with my name.
I extended my hand toward her. “Minerva Eloise Smithe-Canfield.” I mustered as much dignity as I could, despite the odor and the jumpsuit.
She made no move to touch my hand, seeming put off that I’d even offered it. I suppose I did have quite a bit of dirt under my fingernails, but still. Manners. She also looked unimpressed by the mention of my name. “Who?”
My gut clenched. My heart, too.
“Mina,” Ursa spoke up quietly.
The woman’s expression changed dramatically, and she took me in with renewed interest. Whatever flood of emotion crossed her expression was quickly tamed back into something impassive behind her almost blindingly beautiful face. “Mina. Yes. I’ve heard so much about you.”
That, at least, gave me a little surge of confidence, though I hated the idea of this being my first impression.
“I’m sure I look a fright. I’ve been stranded in space and traveling with pirates, so.
” I gave a what-can-you-do shrug. “Anything to get back to Haven 3, so I could save Ursa from Rawley.”
Even as I said the words, I realized how foolish they must sound.
Here was Ursa standing before me, clearly not a prisoner and in far better condition than I was.
Embarrassed, I met his gaze, and saw him giving me a hard, searching stare, as if he didn’t quite understand what I was saying.
“Though it seems Ursa doesn’t need much rescuing,” I added weakly.
No sooner had the words escaped my mouth than I spotted a familiar figure, cutting through the crowd and aiming purposefully in our direction.
It took me a moment to place her. The last time I’d seen her, she had platinum blonde curls, but those had been sheared off, and the short roots underneath dyed black—or perhaps, that was her natural color she was allowing to grow back in.
She looked as beautiful as she ever had, but sleeker now in her black leather ensemble, and tougher, too, with the glint of metal piercings at her nostril and eyebrow.
Meridian, Rawley’s right-hand woman.
Without thinking, I threw myself bodily in front of Ursa, spreading my arms wide. It was a completely sincere response, albeit a highly melodramatic one. I immediately felt the judgment of the people around me in the raised eyebrows and unimpressed stares.
Undeterred, I gestured toward the woman now nearly upon us. “It’s Meridian!” I met Ursa’s gaze frantically, knowing that he, at least, would understand the import of this.
Wherever Meridian was, Rawley could not be far behind.
But to my astonishment, yet again, Ursa held my gaze for the briefest of moments before sliding it away. As though it pained him to look at me. Or something else? Something even worse? I had no idea what that could possibly be, and my stomach twisted in fear.
We could resolve that all later, though.
The important thing was keeping Ursa safe.
“We have to go!” This time I appealed to the Brethren, to Orion.
He would help me, surely? “It’s Meridian!
” I said again. Inane to keep repeating myself, I know, but it was the equivalent of shouting Shark! on a crowded beach, or so I thought.
The Brethren, at least, responded appropriately, reaching again for their various weapons. But the amber-haired woman gave them each a withering look. “What the Havens do you think you’re doing? It’s only Meridian.”
Only Meridian. Only . . . ?
I glanced at Ursa questioningly and was disconcerted to find him already watching me. He looked away, as if embarrassed to be caught staring, but after a moment, he reluctantly met my gaze again. I could see it took some effort on his part. “She is not our enemy.”
My jaw dropped in astonishment. “She has been Rawley’s minion for years. She sat by and watched while he locked me in a warehouse with you, hoping you would hurt me. She—”
But the woman in question was, quite suddenly, standing at my side, raising a cool eyebrow at me.
I refused to be cowed. Squaring my shoulders, I met her gaze head-on—as much as possible, anyway, since she was a good several inches taller than me. “She can’t be trusted,” I finished.
The ghost of a smile tugged at Meridian’s lips. “Nice to see you, too, Minerva. Just as shrill as ever, I see.”
Shrill? Shrill? I took a step toward her and was stopped by two hands gripping my arms. Two distinct hands. Frowning, I looked down to see that Ursa had taken hold of one of my arms, while Orion had grabbed the other. Both men noticed this, too, and glared at one another.
I cleared my throat, choosing indignation over whatever this unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach might be.
“Let me go. I’m perfectly in control of myself.
” I decided to ignore Meridian completely and direct my attention toward the amber-haired woman.
“I don’t know what Meridian has told you, but she’s almost certainly working for Rawley. ”
The amber-haired woman waved her hand dismissively. “No, that’s all been taken care of by the law firm. Philip has a restraining order that bars Dr. Rawley from coming within three hundred yards. Meridian here was instrumental in providing the evidence that made that possible.”
Yet again, my jaw dropped in astonishment. It really was a day for stupefaction all around. “But . . .” I had no other argument to make against Meridian, aside from the fact that I loathed her.
“And of course, we’ve seen to it that Philip has a security detail at all times, should Dr. Rawley once again conveniently forget the terms of the court order.”
“He . . . does?” Yet another shock. I hardly knew up from down anymore.
It had never occurred to me that Ursa would already be rescued by the time I arrived.
But I supposed some significant time had passed since we'd been parted.
Never mind. There would be time to catch up on everything and hear all the details.
“Are you Ursa’s lawyer?” I asked the woman, struggling to fit the pieces together in my mind.
It would explain the protective, proprietary energy she had, and why she was so familiar with the terms of the restraining order.
If she was an ally in preventing Rawley from harming Ursa, then she would have my gratitude, no matter how invasive her presence might be.
She smiled at me faintly, with only the slightest of grimaces. “Alessia Octavia Waterstone.” She stepped to Ursa’s side, sliding her arm to interlock with his. “Philip’s wife.”
1. Rude.