118
“Are you still you, Lady Dragonspur?” I murmur as we stand in the gallery, ostensibly looking at the art while Falcon entertains my father with hunting stories, having already spoken to both girls and told me his favourite.
“I am, Jag. Nothing’s changed. I’m still me.”
“Then perhaps you’ll lend me your counsel.”
She turns to smile at me.
“Are you still you? Isn’t it usually the opposite way around?”
I shrug, and she laughs gently.
“I like Thorun. She’s sweet and kind and genuine and would make a wonderful wife and mother.”
“Yes,” I nod, “Falcon said the same. That’s true, if that was what I was looking for.”
“Jag,” she shakes her head, “don’t.”
She clears her throat and goes on as if I hadn’t spoken.
“But although she’s bloodthirsty and cutthroat and not someone I would ever have picked for you outside the Games, I think Catriona is the best choice. If you need any input at all, and I don’t think for a moment that you do, she’s the one to bring you happiness in the long run.”
“You know that’s not what this is about,” I scowl.
“Jag, I truly want you to find love. Falcon, deep down, wants that for you too. That’s what he, what we both, hoped you’d find on the show, as unlikely as that might have seemed.
“I didn’t find love; I wasn’t looking for it, Angie.
I found some retrospection, though. I know that while my relationship with you was dishonourable, I had honourable intentions.
Just as I do now. I went on the Game because I only want to be back in the Dragonspur fold to protect you as I’ve always done,” I murmur.
“You don’t need to fear that I’ll do anything to try and rekindle what we once had. I know you and Falcon belong together.”
“Yes,” she sighs, “we do. But I know you still ache from my betrayal, Jag.”
“You didn’t betray me,” I look at the ornate ceiling for the words I wish I could find, “you were under someone else’s control.”
“And I’m not now,” she says firmly. “My mind is my own. I want you back in our lives because Falcon needs you, and I need you. As a friend,” she adds.
I take her hand in mine, but drop it as Cat walks down the corridor towards us.
“I’ll leave you two,” Angie smiles. “Remember what I said.”
I nod and watch as she leaves. The corridor is long, and both Cat and I say nothing until the sound of her steps on the parquet floor have receded into the distance.
When they can no longer be heard, Cat spins to me.
“You’re in love with her!”
‘Yes.’
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You can’t deny it. I see it in your eyes; I see the way she looks at you too.”
‘Once, perhaps….’
“The Lady Dragonspur and I have long been friends,” I sigh, turning from her penetrative stare.
“Friends with benefits?” She snaps.
“I am her confidante, her protector,” I retort sharply as I walk away from her and head back towards the parlour and the others, “and her friend. Nothing more.”
“The only thing I can see she might need protection from is the uber-hot psycho she’s married to,” she huffs as she walks fast to keep up with me.
‘Exactly.’
“But from the way they acted, it seems like she can handle him well enough without any aid from a protector.”
Her words, laden with sarcasm, immediately rile me.
“You think you know what it is to live under a shadow,” I snarl, stopping mid-stride and turning back to her, “because you fear your Godfathers? They’re nothing but school-yard bullies compared to those who truly have power.
Vampire dynasties have come and gone over the centuries, not due to any human interference.
You have no idea what enemies we face or trials we endure. ”
“I know about the Free Men,” she retorts, “if that’s who you’re referring to.”
“It is not.”
“But,” she frowns, “you‘re the top of the food chain. You’re royal, you’re immortal, you’re…”
“Still fallible, still able to be killed,” I scowl. “Stop thinking of me as some kind of superhero, Catriona. I’m just a man.”
“No,” she shakes her head. “You’re a vampire.”
“Yes,” I sigh, “I’m a man who drinks blood in order to survive. And yes, I’m stronger than human men, ‘in some regards,’ but I still have enemies, I still have problems, I can still die.”
“And you can still love the wrong woman,” She says quietly, her eyes not leaving mine.
“For what it’s worth, she told me to pick you.”
She laughs without humour, and I grit my teeth.
“I never lied to you,” I hold her gaze. “I told you I wouldn’t love the woman who won The Games.”
“No, you never lied,” she shakes her head, “but you sure as shit withheld some vital information.”