Page 20 of Consort's Glory
Margot sucked in a fortifying breath. “I’m calling from Solbourne Tower. The sovereign has taken me into… protective custody while they try to figure out who planted the bomb. And why, I suppose.”
She could practically hear her grandmother sifting through the information, plucking out every risk, every possible motive, every way it could harm or help the Collective. There was no need to warn Sophie that they were certainly being listened to, nor that Margot was standing on the edge of a knife, her chances of discovery ratcheted up a thousandfold.
In a calm, cool voice, Sophie asked, “Are you injured?”
“Not anymore.” Of her initial injuries, only surface bruising and soreness remained.
“Are you comfortable where you are?”
Margot’s gaze flicked around the luxurious, if sparse bedroom. She knew what Sophie was really asking. Are you being held prisoner?
“The sovereign has been kind enough to lend me a suite,” she answered. I’m not in a cell. Yet.
“I’m grateful you’re being taken care of, but I’m surprised Mr. Solbourne did not send you to a Collective household for safekeeping. Did his people give you a reason for holding you in protective custody?”
Margot pressed her clammy palms against the tops of her scraped knees, trying to calm her racing heart. “The sovereign has taken me under his personal protection.”
As of this moment, your welfare, your happiness, your safety, your comfort — all of it belongs to me.
Theodore’s voice, low and bursting with unbridled authority, rang louder in her memory than even the explosion. What it meant, she had no clue. Even knowing the political ramifications of the attack, Margot failed to wrap her head around why Theodore Solbourne would come running to her aid, let alone declare her under his protection.
And more, her mind whispered, recognizing some deeper claim that she could not consciously acknowledge.
Margot didn’t understand it, but Sophie might. Even with their stilted conversation, she had faith that her grandmother would understand the things Margot could not.
“I see.” Sophie’s voice was entirely neutral, but Margot knew her too well to read it as disinterest. “I will have to call Mr. Solbourne in the morning to thank him for his dedication to your safety. Of course, I will also insist that you be turned over to Collective hands immediately. If you are being targeted, the safest place for you is home.”
Every muscle in Margot’s body seized. Words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “No, Grandma, I—” She licked her lips, her eyes swiveling around the unfamiliar room like she could find some perfect excuse there. “I mean, yes, you should speak to him, but I won’t be coming home. It wouldn’t look good for a healer to run scared, and even worse for a Goode to do so.”
Some of the remoteness fell away from Sophie’s tone when she tightly replied, “Margot, you were nearly assassinated. If you think I will tolerate a threat to your safety, you are mistaken.”
They both knew that she wasn’t talking about the bomber.
Sweat dewed along her spine and in the creases behind her bent knees, but Margot knew better than to let Sophie cow her.
No, Margot would never be in line to be Matriarch, not with the burden she carried. The mantle would pass to her cousin Alric, who would see the Coven into a brighter future when his time came. But Margot was still raised to be a leader, to shadow Sophie as she navigated politics and family tangles. She was no shrinking violet. She was a Goode, and on the subject of leaving San Francisco, she was utterly implacable.
He’s here. I’m going to find him.
Keeping her voice firm, Margot answered, “I am not asking you to. I am handling the situation.” A necessary lie.“If I were to run scared now, it could damage our relationship with the elves and make us look weak. Denying the sovereign’s offer of personal protection would be an insult to the entire Protectorate, Grandma. The sovereign was adamant that my being here was a trust exercise. Your idea, I believe.”
And even if there were no dire political ramifications, Margot had to stay. Her last chance at life resided in San Francisco. She could almost feel him, a presence pushing at the gauzy curtain of the back of her mind, so very close but infuriatingly out of reach.
She could not, would not leave before she found him.
Margot could hear the strain in Sophie’s voice even under the sharp bite of her displeasure. “I will speak to Mr. Solbourne in the morning,” she reiterated, equally implacable. “And I will send out an alert through the Collective — although they will probably already have heard the news by then.”
There was no getting around that. Even if Margot wanted to keep things quiet, the news of an attack on a healer would travel fast.
Sensing Sophie’s desire to get off the call and gather her allies, Margot hastily added, “Before I go, Grandma, you should know that the sovereign is going to put out an edict for all Healing Houses in his territory to be warded.”
Sophie’s only indication of surprise was a small pause. “He wants to pick a fight with Glory’s Temple?”
Sophie Goode found most of the world outside of the Collective and its lands suspect, but Margot knew she despised Glory’s Temple with an uncharacteristic intensity. It used to surprise her, back when she assumed everyone worshipped Glory the same way the Coven did, but the truth of Sophie’s own childhood took those rosy glasses off early.
There were valid reasons for the Collective’s cold refusal to do any business with those who claimed affiliation with the Temple — and Sophie Goode had more reasons to hate them than most.
Shaking her head, Margot answered, “I warned him that they may take it as a breach of their autonomy, but he worries that more healers may be targeted, so he won’t back down.” She recalled the hard set of Theodore’s jaw, the appearance of real worry in his dark eyes. “He… seems sincere.”
