Chapter 26
Usula noticed almost immediately that the servants disallowed her any news.
Printed news releases were burned before she could get her hands on them.
Video releases failed to display on any device.
They offered no disrespect, but would not accede to her demands for updates.
Frustrated, she aimed her accusatory glare at Zul who met her ire with bland equanimity.
He lowered his cup of ti’chal and asked in a mild tone, “Something disturbs you, elska’adir?”
Trying not to grind her molars into powder, Ursula set her cup down with a decisive click on the saucer and said, “Yes, darling, something disturbs me.”
He blinked and maintained his silence, waiting.
“I hate when you do that,” she muttered under her breath. Then, before he could say anything in response, she said, “What’s going on in the capital?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” he replied.
Ursula’s eyes narrowed. “My mates are engaged in dangerous activity. Do not tell me not to worry.”
He nodded. “Then I will not tell you.”
Her fists clenched. She took a deep breath to calm herself, counting silently to ten. Then she took another breath because the first failed its purpose. When she could finally speak without shrieking, she said, “Please tell me what’s going on. Not knowing is driving me crazy.”
“Your ignorance keeps you and Crow safe,” he replied and took another sip as though there were nothing to worry about and she were being unreasonable. He met her gaze, his own implacable. “What you do not know you cannot divulge.”
With icy fury, Ursula rose from the chair, every movement controlled and precise. She slid the chair under the table and turned toward him. “You know being treated like this infuriates me.”
Zul nodded. “I know.”
“And you do not care.”
His expression did not change, but something glinted in his eyes. Perhaps it was regret. Or maybe it was just annoyance. “I do care.”
“But you will not relent.”
“No.”
Her voice throbbing with the force of her emotion, she still managed to avoid yelling and said in a low tone, “Then go… to… hell.”
She turned on her heel and left the room. The door closed quietly behind her, a servant scrambling to ensure it did not slam. The castratus’ attention to that detail was not necessary.
Fists clenched, Zul leaned back in the chair and tilted his head so his face was parallel to the vaulted ceiling far above.
He exhaled and relaxed his fists, pressing his palms flat on the table.
The castratus in the room gazed at him, eyes wide with wariness and ready to flee.
An enraged berserker was dangerous. Meeting the servant’s wide-eyed fright, he exhaled again and murmured, “She’s both scary and impressive when she’s furious, isn’t she? ”
The castratus squeaked and fled.
Zul exhaled an expletive. The profane word felt cathartic and helped him master his own emotions.
He knew his berserker nature intimately: emotions were difficult to control, and control was critical to avoid hurting innocents.
He had to admit to himself that no one had ever roused his emotions like his gorgeous mate.
He didn’t know whether he wanted to throttle her or fuck her, but he refused to yield to the impulse of the first and knew she would not welcome the impulse of the second.
She had vowed to receive him in joy, not anger.
He heard the jingle and rattle of harness through the window and looked outside.
With another muttered curse, he stood and rushed to join his mate and her son before they left without him.
Ignoring his arrival, she grabbed the lines from the servant sitting next to her and snapped them against the numpties’ broad backs and set them into lumbering motion.
Zul fell into step beside the hoverwagon.
“Good morning, Papa Zul,” Crow greeted him with a bright smile.
“Good morning, Crow,” Zul replied as he easily kept pace.
The child glanced at his mother then leaned down toward the berserker and whispered, “Mama’s mad.”
Zul nodded. “Yes, I know.”
“Do you know why?”
Zul refused to lie to the youngling. “I do.”
“Is she mad at you?”
Zul accepted the blame. “Yes.”
“Then why don’t you fix it?”
Zul shook his head. “I am keeping you and your mama safe.”
The child frowned, trying to understand why efforts to keep him and his mother safe would anger her. Drawing himself up to his less than intimidating height even seated on the hoverwagon, he demanded, “Explain.”
Zul chuckled, seeing the commanding nature of a golden warrior breed in the youngling.
Bran would have to work hard to keep the boy from becoming a bully, as none understood the nature of a high caste warrior breed better than another, just as none understood the challenges of a berserker better than another.
“You’re a bit young to impose your will upon me, Crow,” he chided gently.
The youngling frowned at being thwarted and ducked his head. He pursed his lips, then looked at the third of his patriarchal triad. “Some day you will obey me.”
Zul shrugged. “By the time you are strong enough to control one such as I, you will be ready to form your own warrior triad.”
So, that’s what it is: Bran controls you, so you feel it necessary to control me.
The icy blast of her words in his mind surprised him. However, he mustered calm and replied, Do you think me so petty?
She responded with frosty silence which he interpreted as yes, she did think him so petty. Her poor opinion made his gut clench and the natural sway of his tail as he walked turned into a tight wringing motion, the only outward sign of his unsettled emotion.
Nervous clicking sounds came from the castratus sitting in the back of the hoverwagon with the new inventory.
When they reached Ursula’s shop, Zul helped the castrati unload what little cargo there was, carefully setting down the crates so his mate could place each new piece where she thought it would be best displayed.
He’d quickly learned to allow her this menial labor, as it gave her satisfaction and did no harm.
After each crate was emptied and removed from the floor back to the hoverwagon by the castrati, Zul took his usual position in a corner where he had visual command over all the storefront and a good bit into the back room.
No sooner had he seated himself when Addilli entered, accompanied by Master Gallik and two castrati.
“Good morning, Master Crow,” the male greeted the youngling with a bow of respect.
Crow smiled and bowed. “Good morning, Master Gallik. Have you come to see Mama?” Guileless, the child took a step forward, leaned closer to the familiar male, and whispered, “Mama’s mad.”
Ursula rolled her eyes as Addilli giggled.
“Prima,” the male began, his stiff voice exhibiting discomfort in addressing another female, “we are hoping our order is ready.”
“Of course,” Ursula replied with a tight smile.
Addilli correctly interpreted the other female’s expression and attempted to ameliorate Ursula’s visible ire. “Sifgul is eager to receive the new plates and bowls. He says the beauty of your wares makes our food taste even better.”
Ursula blinked in surprise, her ill humor evaporating. “Really? He said that?”
Addilli tilted her head and smiled. “Have I ever lied to you?”
Ursula sighed and wiped away a sudden tear that sprang to her eye. “Oh, Addilli, you are a treasure. That compliment was just what I needed.”
Addilli patted her arm and looked at her mate. Gallik gave her a nod of approval.
Ursula gestured toward the back room and said, “There are four boxes marked with your name, Mr. Gallik. Everything you ordered is in there, but please be sure to reconcile your records with the content to make sure.”
The restaurateur bowed and replied, “I am certain you are correct, Prima. It is an honor to do business with you.”
With a flick of his fingers, he signaled his castrati to fetch the boxes.
Addilli’s eyes flickered toward Zul who sat silent and watchful. Alluding to the berserker’s consistent presence when Ursula’s males generally rotated their guarding, she asked, “Have Prime Bran and Second Gil been deployed again?”
Ursula’s lips pressed together in a thin line as she took a second to ponder her answer. After that brief hesitation, she replied, “Yes.”
And that, elska’adir, is why I keep you ignorant. You are a less than convincing liar.
Lying isn’t honorable, she flung back at him.
But sometimes it is prudent.
Addilli, who had no interest in politics, blinked and sighed, understanding that the distracted look in her friend’s eyes meant mental communication was going on. Again she patted Ursula’s arm and she murmured, “They protect you.”
“That’s what he claims,” Ursula muttered in a bitter tone.
“Then you must believe him. Your mates cannot lie to you.”
“Do you truly believe that?” Ursula’s tone made her doubt clear.
Addilli nodded. “The connection we have with our mates is intimate and allows for no falsehood. They would rather keep you ignorant than risk breaking your trust and their honor.”
Ursula gave her a rueful smile. “I hope you’re right. Because if you’re not, I’m going to kick some ass.”
Addilli’s eyes widened in astonishment at the other female’s violent words. Then she chuckled. “And if I’m wrong, I am sure they will let you… er… kick their asses.” She grinned. “I like that expression. Do you mind if I use it?”
Ursula gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Be my guest.”
Zul did not wince, but he wanted to. Gallik looked horrified but dared not mention in the berserker’s hearing that the Prima was a bad influence on his sweet-natured, submissive mate.