Page 13 of Consort's Glory
But she didn’t dare shrug it off, and not only because the desperate, tactile creature in her cried out for the steady touch of another. What if he took it as a sign of defiance? Theodore didn’t truly seem to mind her lapse in judgment earlier, but how would he react if she kept pushing him? Would he chalk it up to a witch’s reputation for cattiness, or would he suspect something deeper, more dangerous?
The risk of exposure and the forbidden yearning for contact kept her still under his claws.
Secretly, below even the yearning for simple touch, there was a heady thrill, too. A dormant part of her stretched out in languid pleasure at the feeling of his claws pressing against her delicate skin. Heat, low and unacknowledged, simmered in her belly.
Margot held herself rigid as she explained, “I don’t have much to say. I came home and didn’t sense anyone in the house. The explosion caught me just as I was stepping through the threshold.”
Theodore’s face was half in shadow. Only a streak of orange light sliced across his features, highlighting a lush mouth and the faintest hint of dark stubble on his jaw. Those deadly claws pressed just a bit harder into her skin, sending a lick of flame down her spine. “Where were you before the explosion?”
On any other night that might have been a tricky question to answer. She usually spent her evenings and days off in the poorer, shadowed parts of the city, using her skills for some real good. It wasn’t illegal to serve the Underground, of course, but she wasn’t exactly supposed to use the Healing House’s resources on people outside of her neighborhood jurisdiction, either.
Grateful that she wouldn’t have to admit to pilfering medical supplies to the sovereign’s face, Margot answered, “I was invited to dinner with the Merced pack. After I finished my shift—” during which she healed only a single sprained ankle, a profound waste of abilities that could repair hearts, excise tumors, cure cancer “—I drove to the lake and stayed there until eight-thirty.”
What she could see of Theodore’s face showed not a hint of surprise. But why would it, when he already admitted to having her under surveillance?
“Do you spend a lot of time with the coyotes?”
She shrugged. “They prefer healing to going to the medical center, so I’ve seen quite a bit of them recently, but I’d never been in their territory before tonight.”
No, they usually came to her in small packs of two or three. And after she made Viktor’s acquaintance, he was almost always one of them, but Margot recalled the tension between the two men and tactfully refrained from mentioning that.
Theodore nodded. “What about your wards?”
“What wards?”
“The ones protecting the Healing House.” His thumb drew lazy, distracting circles. “Wouldn’t you have been notified that a stranger had crossed your threshold?”
She made to shake her head, but stopped quickly when the movement made her temples pound. Her skull was almost totally healed by now, but the bruising would take a more natural course in order to conserve her energy.
Blinking hard to correct her swimming vision, she answered, “Sovereign, there are never any wards placed on Healing Houses. They’re open to everyone.”
Her bedroom, on the other hand, was a different story. Her magic was too crude, too wild, for most complex sigilwork, but her grandmother had been ruthless in her training for self-defense. The warding on her personal space was air-tight and nearly impenetrable.
Unfortunately, whatever happened to the Healing House probably didn’t take place in her bedroom.
There was a curious note of strain in the sovereign’s voice when he asked, “So you sleep in a house with unlocked doors and no wards?”
A deep rumbling came from the driver’s seat.
Margot flicked a glance at Kaz, whose huge, clawed hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. It occurred to her, briefly, that she had never heard of an elf employing an orc. They were born adversaries. Even their creation myths put them at odds.
But she didn’t have the luxury of ignoring Theodore’s question for more than a second, so she carefully put aside her curiosity about their relationship for later. “It’s traditional,” she insisted, trying not to react defensively to his incredulous expression. “Everyone is welcome in a Healing House. Locks and wards would imply otherwise. Besides, it’s not like it’s ever really been a problem. I’ve always felt…”
She caught herself before she could say the word safe. Margot hadn’t felt truly safe since the day her grandmother handed her that bottle of Noscent.
Clearing her throat, she finished, “I’ve always felt secure in the Healing House.”
Margot watched, fascinated, as Theodore closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, it was with a grimace that put both his upper and lower fangs on terrifying display.
“Right,”he flatly replied. “That changes now. I will be speaking to the Healer’s Guild in the morning and instructing them that every Healing House in my territory should have wards put up immediately.”
Margot reared back with surprise. Without missing a beat, Theodore’s hand followed her retreat. A deep frown cut the handsome lines of the sovereign’s face as a pair of headlights flashed through his window, illuminating expanded vertical pupils of his dark, almost black eyes.
Margot gawked at him. “You can’t do that. The Healing Houses are sacred. Glory’s Temple would never allow—”
“If they wish to stay in the Protectorate, they will damn well do as I say.” He didn’t blink. Theodore’s stare remained locked on hers as he raised his hand from her shoulder to press the tip of a claw against her battered cheek. He was so gentle that she barely felt it, but she knew it was there, every nerve attuned to his nearness.
More of that curious heat slid down her spine to pool low in her stomach, as if the very threat of him was enough to make her burn.
