Chapter 22 #2
I unfold to my full height as she saunters closer.
Her hazel eyes look up at me, calculating, so different from the wide-eyed gaze of the girl I fell in love with.
Tension pinches her brows and I follow the lines down the straight of her nose to her pursed mouth.
So severe in the bright daylight. But I know what she looks like when she thinks no one is looking, in the dead of night when all of her ice melts.
“I’m sorry,” she says, sounding anything but. “I can’t help you.”
“Are you prepared for when Chryse or Wren come for you? Because they will. They’re as power hungry as my father.”
She isn’t swayed. “If the situation should arise, I’ll handle it.”
I take a step toward her but am immediately halted by the creaking sound of a bow being stretched to its limit. In the span of a breath, the archer has readied an arrow and has it pointed directly at my face.
“I wouldn’t,” she warns.
I lift a brow. “Perhaps your queen will have a differing opinion to yours.”
There’s a low chuckle from the archer. By the matching set of smiles he and her pet are both wearing, I have a feeling I’m not going to like whatever she says next.
“Haven’t you heard?” Jovie asks, her tone taking on a condescending lilt. The archer’s gaze lingers on the side of her face with reverence as she continues. “I am the queen.”
My mouth parts in surprise. I share a look with Wells and he seems as baffled as I am.
Olivia is the first to break the silence. “You’re the queen?”
Jovie nods.
“And that is your royal attire?” Irina asks.
Messer chimes in, a mocking glint in his eyes. “Her crown is being fitted.”
It takes me a moment to find my voice, but when I do it comes out like gravel. “Since when?”
There’s not a drop of uncertainty or hesitation in her features or stance, and it mirrors the lack of emotion emanating through the Bond. “My mother relinquished her title to me a year ago.”
“Why?” Irina challenges.
The way Jovie’s gaze brushes over my wife is the same way a tiger would glance at a gnat before dismissing it.
She directs her next words to Olivia. “I’ll have a selection of healers ready once you’ve settled, so you can choose a midwife. They’ll be able to check on the baby.”
“You speak as if you know our decision already,” Wells says.
For the first time since I’ve laid eyes on her, Jovie offers him an honest smile. “You’d be a fool to do anything else but stay.”
Wells can’t hide his surprise. “You’re just going to let us into your city without an oath in place?”
“Are you telling me you have ill intentions toward me or my people?”
“Ah, no,” he says, blinking owlishly. “I am not.”
He doesn’t so much as look at me as he falls silent. Everyone awaits their queen’s final judgment. Wells may not be here with ulterior motives, but he still poses a potential risk to Jovie if Olivia’s safety was at stake.
“We’re in need of another lamplighter,” she says.
“Fire elementals aren’t as common here, but there are also a couple of blacksmiths if you would prefer to continue your forging.
” Then her gaze finds me, and her words turn as sharp as knives.
“I’ll have your boat moored and stocked by midday the day after tomorrow.
I’ll give you a couple of nights to rest before you return to your fight.
Against Roison, Alaha, or your father. I don’t care. ”
Her gaze encompasses Irina, too, indicating that this directive is for the both of us.
Irina is unhappy and she’s determined to make it known.
Her nails dig into the flesh of my forearm.
Clenching my teeth, I grab her by the wrist and move her hand back to her own side.
My grip isn’t hard enough to leave a mark, but there’s enough pressure to warn her to keep her hands to herself.
Jovie doesn’t miss the silent battle of wills between us, but she flicks her gaze toward Wells and Olivia. “Put them in one of the empty cottages on sailors’ row,” she tells her lackey, the archer, who motions to a handful of his soldiers.
Determined to leave in the same way as she came, without a backward glance, Jovie stalks past, the smell of wildflowers once again washing over me.
I’m not willing to let her get away with it this time.
I release Irina, stepping out of line to call out toward my Match’s retreating back. “And my sister?”
Stopping in place, Jovie turns to look at me, gaze assessing. “She wasn’t sure you’d care to see her.”
I’m taken aback by her answer. I assumed Beau’s position here would be as a resource.
A tool for Jovie to use. It never occurred to me that she might be wary of facing me.
The oath I swore only protected Jovie from my rage, and did not include my sister.
I could have sent sentries after her, put a bounty on her head.
After all, she conspired behind my back and chained me to a chair.
But as angry as I’ve been with her for her treason, she’s still my little sister.
“Please tell her I’d like to.”
Maybe I had hoped for validation or support from Jovie of some kind, but I’m sorely disappointed when she doesn’t reply. She simply turns and leaves, Messer following close behind. A puppy trailing after its master.
A voice comes from close behind me. Too close. “Step out of line again, and I’ll kill you quicker than you can blink. Do you understand?” the archer challenges.
I understand completely, but the sound of hooves on paved brick holds my attention.
At the end of the wharf, Jovie’s figure on horseback cuts up the city street, strong and confident as she picks up speed, her hair snapping in the wind.
A black eyun flits overhead, tracking her movements.
It’s wingspan ten times wider than the last time I laid eyes on it.
The tether in my chest aches the further away she gets.
Wells’s voice is effective in breaking my concentration. “That’ll be seven pence, my dear.”
“She made him kneel!” Olivia protests.
“The bet was whether or not Jovie would wound him,” Wells says, folding his arms and nodding, satisfied. “And she did not. Therefore, you owe me seven pence.”
“But she did.” We all look at Irina, and her voice comes out hollow when she continues. “She hurt his pride.”
Olivia is damn near giddy as she looks up at her husband. “Pay up,” she insists.
Wells opens his mouth to further argue, but the archer, Jovie’s lackey, puts the matter to rest by saying, “Just pay the woman what is owed.”
I can’t help but grin.
Who needs pride anyway?