Page 40 of Consort's Glory
“By not trusting me!” Margot raised a hand as if to gesture sharply. He noticed, in the bare second before she curled it into a tight fist and lowered it once more, that it shook.
When she spoke next, her voice was quiet and layered with old pain. “Am I not a witch, Grandma?”
Sophie stiffened. “Of course you’re a witch. When have I ever made you feel otherwise?”
“Right now.” Margot took half a step backward. “Any other witch in the Coven, Grandma. Any other witch you would trust to take care of themselves. But me? I’m different, right? I don’t get that trust. Because to you I’ve always been a liability.”
Theodore’s chest constricted in one agonizing lurch. There was a wealth of pain in his consort’s voice; a lifetime of sorrow that he had only seen the shadow of until now.
Sophie’s response was stiff, tight with restrained feeling. “I have only ever wanted to keep you safe.” Her gaze flicked toward Theodore. “From everything.”
Margot rubbed her forehead, her shoulders rolling forward in a defeated pose that made him want to tear something apart. His proud consort, a woman who wore dignity like a cloak, who could bring the dead back to life with her bare hands, should never look like she’d lost a battle of wills.
“I’ve never been safe,” she quietly replied. Her tone was stark, almost bland. “You and I both know that. I’m asking you to trust me, Sophie. That’s all.”
There was a taut silence as both women stared at one another, communicating things Theodore couldn’t begin to understand. He glanced over Sophie’s head to meet the eyes of her protégé.
Alric kept his eyes locked with Theodore’s. It was impressive, considering most sentient beings couldn’t withstand his direct stare for more than a handful of seconds. When his eyes finally slid away, Theodore got the impression that it was not because he couldn’t handle it anymore, but because he had something more important to look at.
Addressing Margot, Alric asked, “Is it him?”
Margot flushed. “Is what him?”
“The reason you want to stay.” Alric shrugged. “It’s okay if it is, you know.”
Theodore’s heart beat an uneven rhythm. Was that why? Did she finally believe what he’d been telling her?
“Of course it’s not him,” Sophie answered for her, utterly self-assured. She turned a withering look on her companion. “Margot is far too smart to do something like that. Besides, if she wanted a relationship, there are plenty of eligible beings I can introduce her to.”
Alric’s hooded gaze traveled slowly around the room, taking in the candles, the half-finished bottle of wine. “I don’t know, Sophie. This looks an awful lot like a date to me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew you had a reason for wanting to go to the Protectorate so bad.” His full lips quirked. “Cousin, are you seeing the sovereign? Is that why you want to stay?”
Every eye settled on Margot. “I…” She cleared her throat. Drawing herself up into her usual prim pose, she answered, “Well, that’s really not your business, is it? And so what if I am?”
It wasn’t a yes, but it was close enough for Theodore to send Sophie a slow grin. “Yes,” he purred, stepping up to mold one hand around the curve of her waist, “so what if she is? Do you intend to force her to leave my side when she so clearly wants to stay?”
Margot tossed him an exasperated look. “Not helping!”
He shrugged. “Never said I would.”
No, the beast in him had only one goal, and it wasn’t to soothe Sophie Goode’s worries. It was to win Margot, to bind her to his side, to gentle her and run his hands over her skin and let her claw at him to prove his worth. Not even the logical part of him cared what Sophie thought, though.
“Margot,” the Matriarch began, “do not do this. You cannot imagine what kind of risk this—”
“I’m not doing anything except staying in San Francisco.” Margot held her grandmother’s stare unblinkingly. “I love you, Grandma, and I appreciate the concern, but this is… I have to do this. I am not going back with you. I don’t need rescuing. You are just going to have to live with that. And if you can’t… I guess you’ll just have to force me.”
“Margot, in three days every important elvish family will descend on this city for the Summit.” Sophie gestured sharply to the room at large. Her voice didn’t change, but the temperature in the room dropped several degrees as her composure finally began to unravel. “Do you really want to be here when that happens?”
“I can handle it.” Margot didn’t bow under the heavy weight of Sophie’s disapproval. “In fact, we put out a statement today that told the public I’m staying with the Solbournes as an act of goodwill and friendship. You have to have seen it. I know that’s why you snuck in here instead of going public to get me back. What would it look like for the Coven — for the Collective, if I left now? Tell me.”
The answer was obvious to everyone in the room: Bad.
It would look like the Goodes, and Sophie in particular, didn’t honor friendships, and that would severely hurt their image as collaborators with the other territories. The shifters in particular would take it as a mark against the Collective, and that sort of thing could tank any trade deals or business agreements they had. And whatever else Sophie Goode was, she was a dedicated and ruthless ruler.
The fact that Margot had neatly laid a trap that pit Sophie’s wishes against her loyalty to the Collective was a masterful bit of manipulation. The Matriarch had been thoroughly outmaneuvered.
Sophie knew it. Theodore could see it in the subtle tightening of skin around her eyes as the silence stretched.
The only way this plan of hers would have worked involved Margot quietly returning to the Collective or, as she suggested, being forced. Theodore would let neither scenario happen. Not that she appears to need me to fight her battles, he thought, gritting his teeth against the pounding desire in his veins. Godsdamn if it doesn’t make me want to clear off that table and just—
