Chapter 17 #2
She took the entire table by surprise, causing a ruckus of shocked coughs and chokes as food was sucked down the wrong pipes.
Even her husband turned his head to cough, but Lothas had a suspicion it was more about covering an inappropriate chuckle than anything else.
Knar was apoplectic. So much so he was turning purple and couldn’t regain wit enough to even roar.
Mystique gave him a kindly, patient sort of smile and Lothas found himself resisting the urge to laugh himself.
She had some serious backbone. She was nothing like what he’d expected.
He’d thought to catch up to a corpse or a vicious little animal woman and coldblooded killer bent on survival at all costs.
He was partly right. She was bent on her own survival, She had to be to survive the journey out of the mountains alone after three days of torture, not to mention running unarmed and unarmored over the deadly wilderness.
And she had a vicious streak in her, otherwise she couldn’t taunt the father of her victim so cavalierly.
But in the grand scheme of things, it was a small streak.
Otherwise she was wholesome and bright, charming and clever, and shrewdly confident.
She held home court advantage, of course, but she hadn’t made these allies with tricks and lies.
They were ’pathic and principled, and they would never harbor a fugitive without feeling justification in the truth of a matter.
And if what she had said was the truth, then there was indeed justification.
“Liar! Lying bitch!”
Knar lost all control, the entire table crashing with the impact as he threw himself over it in a bid for the Prima’s delicate little neck.
Out of nowhere a streak of golden hair flew to meet the tackle and the drawn blade Knar had managed to sneak into the room.
Food, drink, and pewter tableware went flying as everyone lurched back and away from the violence and mess.
When the spray of wine and food settled, Darcio had the upper hand over the screaming giant.
He had one hand clenched around Knar’s throat, the other wrapped around the hilt of a knife that was run clean through Knar’s left shoulder, pinning him down to the wooden table.
Darcio was driving a knee into one thigh and grinding a second knee into the man’s groin.
Knar was convulsing in pain, unable to move and unable to stop squealing in agony so long as the Prime Shadow held him in purposeful perpetual pain.
Calmly, as though he weren’t struggling with a man nearly twice his bulk, Shadow lifted his gaze to Reule’s. “My Prime?”
Standing order for any Shadow was that anyone who threatened harm to the Prime or Prima of a Sánge tribe was subject to instant death at the hand of the Prime Shadow protecting that royal.
Darcio, by all rights, shouldn’t even be bothering with asking Reule for permission he already had.
But this was a special circumstance. Reule glanced at Mystique, who was safely drawn back from the melee behind the solid protection of Chayne’s body.
The Shadows had worked in perfect concert, and Reule was quite proud of the display.
Reule made no nod to Shadow. Instead, he lifted a single brow of query and looked toward Second Commander Lothas.
“You have your answers,” he said dismissively.
“She admits to being the woman you seek, and she admits to the crime of murdering a prince,” he said, sending a pointed look toward Knar.
“Among your people, is an attempt to murder or rape ignored and forgiven just because the criminal is royalty? Should my Shadow have stepped aside and allowed this Middle King to violate my wife by virtue of his birthright?”
The unspoken point was clear. Reule could let Knar go, let him do his worst in the name of retribution.
But that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be wide, resounding repercussions for that pardon based on royalty.
The Yesu would have a war. Reule would kill Knar anyway for hurting his beloved bride, and people would suffer for years in repercussion.
The point was, the Yesu needed to decide how much honor they were willing to trade away for the sake of a small, rage-filled man who had raised a selfish, immoral boy. A son who had cost a girl her conscience, memory, and past life.
Everyone stood in the room waiting, watching Lothas as his eyes moved over Knar and then returned to Reule. Then he looked at Mystique and frowned.
“So was that the way of it?” he asked.
“Harrell and two attendants caught me alone, ripped my clothes away, and brutalized my body. I fought back. Too well, apparently,” she added with sharp regret.
“Without a trial I was accused and convicted and tortured. I escaped before he could throw me to his army as promised.” She swallowed hard, but didn’t look away even though several of the other men in the room lowered their eyes in shame of their sex.
“Reule found me within a couple of weeks, I think. I’m not clear on how long it was exactly.
He found me, fed me … gave me a home and a name and began to love me.
The rest is as you see it.” She spread out a hand to indicate them all.
“I have no witnesses to offer you, except my …” She smiled a secretive little smile.
“My husband has lived the memory with me. If you wish to bring forth a Yesu telepath …”
“No. That is unnecessary. I think you have survived enough humiliation for a single lifetime. Prime Reule, you may dispose of him as you see fit,” Lothas said with finality.
Knar squawked out a protest as Darcio eagerly awaited Reule’s choice. Reule reached out to pick up Mystique’s hand, kissed its back as he drew her to the warmth of his body.
“Come, let’s go to the Pack’s dining hall and see if we can’t repair our supper.” He encompassed the room with his eyes at the invitation. Then, finally, he looked to Darcio. “Join us afterward,” he invited him softly.
Reule led the others out of the guest hall, and Drago shut the doors on Knar and Darcio.
One Month Later …
“So, how was he today?”
“Better,” Mystique said with a smile. “Rye is a complex man. Something I didn’t give him enough credit for in the beginning, I believe. His Charm blinds women to his depths. His way of keeping them, and others, at a proper distance.”
“Reule has been spending a lot of time with him,” Liandra pointed out as she emptied a freshly made salve into its proper jar.
She had proven herself to have a knack for concocting medicines, and she liked passing her time doing it with her Prima as they chatted and discussed the happenings around Jeth.
“I know. It was a very hard thing for Reule to understand how Rye’s love and loyalty for him could be corrupted into a reason for hurting me.
I think they have both learned a great deal about themselves and about each other.
Rye will never love me the way he does Reule, and I don’t expect it.
We have come to like each other again now that Rye has begun to deal with his guilt over Amando’s death. My husband worries still, but …”
“But he always worries. At least where you are concerned.”
“Rye won’t hurt me,” she insisted. “He’s well beyond that.
In fact, he’s ashamed of his behavior. He’s too hard on himself.
He feels bad when he still feels anger toward me, but it’s natural for it to linger during healing.
It was the irrationality and the impulse-control problems that made him dangerous to me, and most of that was cured with my naturopathy. ”
“It must be hard for him, not being able to trust himself and knowing Reule doesn’t trust him.”
“It is. But it will all return with time and patience. I have faith in him. Reule does as well. Soon Rye will find it in himself. Mercy, what are you making? It smells vile.”
“It’s burn salve,” Liandra said with surprise. “And it smells like sweet beggar’s root. I love that smell.” Lia sniffed the jar deeply.
“Ugh. I hope you paid attention to your ratios. It seems off to me.”
“You’re off,” Lia tsked with disgruntled pique. “My salve is fine.”
“Ladies.”
Lia and Mystique looked up at the door to see Reule lounging against the frame.
His big shoulders blocked out the light from the infirmary, his figure limned in sunshine.
Mystique was in his arms instantly, and he was deep in her mouth an instant after that.
He drew in her flavor with deep satisfaction until he had no choice but to let her go or drag her somewhere private.
Come to think of it, he mused, he was growing rather fond of the dark alcove under the first-level stairs.
Mystique wrenched herself away, shoving playfully at his chest even though it was rather like a pesky fly trying to move an elephant.
“Stop that,” she scolded as she drew her fingers over her kiss-dampened lips and flushed prettily.
Since she had gone through the Pack ceremony, connecting herself to all of the men as their Prima, she had become much, much more sensitive to their presence and awareness.
Her Intuition had almost become premonition, just about as good as reading minds.
Even Reule couldn’t hide from her uncanny ability to know his intentions. Like wanting to visit certain alcoves …
He chuckled. He liked to think up wild things sometimes just to fluster her. The trick was, he had to be serious about each and every one of those wild ideas, because he never knew when she would get that speculative look of invitation in her eyes.
But he surely enjoyed finding out.
“Lothas arrived safe and sound. He says Derrik is only a day behind him. That blizzard two days ago was perfectly timed. And you know, I never thought I would say that?” He chuckled when Lia did, nodding her head vigorously to boot.