41. The Rug Under His Feet #2
Turo looked at me warily. I quickly explained Melek’s relationship with Gall, and how the Nephilim saw him.
He’d see the reflection of my love for Istral.
Sure enough, his posture turned inward. I knew he was arguing with himself about the balance of protecting Istral with bringing another Nephilim closer to me.
“Gall’s a good man, Turo. Istral cares about him for a reason,” I breathed. “Please. ”
I could see the war Turo was fighting with himself. The desire to be petty battling his honor. And his knowledge of the sweetness of Istral, and how Gall was a similar heart and mind.
“I know you can see it, Turo,” I said quietly.
“I know you understand Izzy. And Gall… Gall is just like her. And despite the environment that raised him, he’s retained that sweet heart because of Melek.
” I put my hand on Melek’s arm instinctively, then winced when Turo flinched.
“My mate is a good man, Turo. God didn’t give us the wrong King. ”
That must have touched something in him, because Turo’s head snapped up and his eyes widened again.
Without a word, he stalked over to the door again, leaning out to issue orders as I continued to answer questions from the others.
Hughes wanted to understand why the Nephilim would come after their own, and Melek and I both had to explain the differences in their culture, and Melek offered insight to the many different factions who would be fighting for control right now.
“…it could be any of them—they might have come to save me, or they may have decided I’m a traitor and want to kill me as well as Yilan. But either way, they’ll see Gall as a way to reach me.”
There was a muttered curse from the other end of the room. I turned quickly to see Turo, who’d been pacing, draw a dagger from the sheath at his thigh and start towards Melek.
Jhonas and Granbull both jumped to their feet, shouting, but Melek shoved me behind him and roared at the others to stay back as he half-crouched, raising his hands to prepare to defend himself.
“Turo! Stop!” I gasped.
But then, shockingly, as Turo approached, he laid the bared blade over his free hand and slid it against the fleshy part of his palm.
A line of red, welling blood raised and began to drip immediately, pattering on the stones as Turo thrust his hand towards Melek, the dagger held back and away.
“Vow to me,” he said hoarsely. “Vow in blood that you stand for her safety. For the safety of our people. Invite God’s curse on your soul if you do not.”
Melek was still shifting his weight, preparing to fight. He didn’t take his eyes off Turo, but he had one arm back, keeping me behind him.
He stared suspiciously at Turo’s extended, bleeding hand. But then he nodded slowly .
I covered my mouth in fear as Melek planted his feet and opened his hand, urging Turo to give him the blade.
Turo slapped it into his palm, his expression one of cold fear.
But then Melek sliced his own palm and clasped Turo’s hand like they were brothers.
“I vow to you that I will give my life in protection of hers, and the Shadekin. Our people. My people. May God strike me where I stand if I don’t speak the truth.”
A shudder rocked through Turo and his knuckles went white.
But nothing happened. Then he rasped, “And I will vow to you, as the God-appointed King of this land, and mate to our Queen, that I will… I will serve your crown with my dying breath. In defense of her, or you. While your heart is true, mine will stand for you.”
Melek looked a little stunned at that. “Thank you,” he breathed.
I had tears in my eyes as Turo nodded once, then let go of Melek’s hand, and avoiding my eyes, began to issue orders.
Jhonas and Granbull leaped to his instructions. Diadre and Hughes listened on with disbelief all over his face, his eyes flicking back and forth between Melek and me. But Shen looked relieved as he took instructions from Turo, then raced for the door to gather more men and runners.
Turo faltered before finally turning to me and meeting my eyes with a strange distance in his own.
“We’ll get Lady Istral into the Palace with no vulnerabilities. Let the Neph come with her, or move himself as he chooses, but he needs to get here too. House them here...”
I was breathless with disbelief and hope as Melek listened carefully, then asked pertinent questions, and Turo answered them—stiffly, but without challenge.
They were working together. Reluctantly. Warily. But still…
“It’s almost like you attract good men,” Diadre whispered in my ear.
I had to swallow a snort, but when I looked at her from the corner of my eye, she was smiling.
“God knew who would be needed here tonight,” I whispered back. “Now, if we can just get Istral and Gall here before these fuckers find them…”
Melek’s hand appeared at my back, pressing silent reassurance into my skin. Then everyone was in action, moving, calling, expanding on plans .
Somehow I found myself ushered to the other end of the room, near the door, alongside Melek who wasn’t leaving my side.
But when Turo started out the door, I caught his elbow—my heart sinking when he jerked his arm back like my touch burned him.
I drew back a step and opened my mouth to apologize, but Turo moved first.
Bowing to me, then after a split-second hesitation, to Melek, he cleared his throat and spoke to Melek.
“Your Majesty. Once we have the Princess and her cohort safe, we will coronate you.”
“There’s no time. A coronation would require days of preparation—” I started.
Turo raised his hand to stop me. “We will not have an event with the people. Not yet. But in wartime, the Council can coronate. The people will be informed and can celebrate later.”
“This isn’t wartime,” Melek muttered. “Not yet. I still have hope we can avert that.”
Turo stared at him, sadness in his eyes. “Enemy forces have infiltrated our nation, and now the palace grounds. An attempt was made on the Queen’s life. That is an act of war.”
Melek and I both watched Turo bow again, then turn stiffly to walk out and instruct the forces he’d gathered to move Istral safely back to the Palace.
When I finally turned to Melek, it was to find him frowning, and his hands clenched to fists at his side.
“Melek—”
“He’s right,” he muttered.
“It’s an act of war, but—”
“No, Yilan… He’s right. I hate it, but he’s right. Dammit. ”
I blinked. “You’re… you’re saying that you’ll walk to war?”
Melek’s expression was pained as he clawed a hand through his hair. “I’m saying that I’m desperately praying there’s another way through this that doesn’t involve me killing my countrymen just for doing their jobs,” he finished darkly.