Page 47 of Consort's Glory
Valen was too disciplined to rear back with surprise, but Theodore could tell by his sharp exhalation that Margot had shocked him. “Why in the world would the leader of the weres be looking into this?”
Theodore could only shake his head. “Viktor mentioned last night that they have a protection order out on her.”
“What?” Margot looked just as surprised as Valen. “What’s a protection order? And why would she do that?”
Eyeing her bruises and mindful of the fact that she had apparently been disregarding her health, Theodore stepped halfway out of his study to slide a hand behind her back and usher her through the doorway. “You should sit,” he growled, making a mental note to ask her why she hadn’t just finished healing herself already.
A healer with bruises? It was a sight so strange it was almost obscene, and one he was well past tired of seeing.
Margot let him propel her towards Valen’s vacated chair, but in the stiff-legged way that implied great internal sacrifice on her part. When she was sitting stiffly on the edge of the leather cushion, he continued, “You’re the only one who can tell us why Angelique might put a protection order out for you, but I can tell you that it is exactly what it sounds like. She put out the word that if you are harmed, the weres will take it personally and seek out retribution on your behalf. It’s quite the honor.”
“If you consider the protection of a bunch of half-trained, mostly-feral weres with criminal records honorable,” Valen groused.
Theodore was amused to see Margot shoot Valen a look full of bristling temper. “They’re good people. And if they were that bad, why would you let them stay in your territory? I thought elves booted troublemakers to the New Zone, no questions asked.”
It was Kaz who replied, his voice thick with quiet laughter. “They serve their purpose.”
“Right,” she drawled archly, “just like all the rest of the Underground community. Cheap labor and illegal goods when you need it.”
Kaz lounged in his chair, his expression openly intrigued as he assessed her. “Spend a lot of time in the black markets, little witch?”
Margot didn’t take the bait. Instead, she merely arched a red-gold brow. “Do you?”
“Yes.” Kaz flashed her a grin full of fang, an expression that was as notoriously charming as it was terrifying. “Maybe we can take a tour together sometime.”
Theodore put a hand on the back of Margot’s chair and glared at his brother. “Enough, Kaz.”
Valen came to stand by Kaz’s chair, his scowl focused on Margot like a stern spotlight. “How do you know Angelique?”
It was curious to watch the byplay between Margot and Valen. Instead of trying to avoid Valen’s notice like many weaker souls, she locked eyes with the general and held his stare, her expression calmly impassive. Serene.
It was the smart choice. Any hint of deception or false meekness and Valen would have scented weakness. Nothing except for the steeliest will could deter the general from doing what he decided was his duty.
Theodore watched with begrudging admiration as Margot lifted one delicate shoulder in a shrug. “I’m a good healer. Word gets around and people come to me.”
He didn’t need his abilities to know that was a fib. “Viktor told me you have been spending your weekends and evenings in the Market.” Margot’s bright eyes swung around to stare at Theodore, her expression pinched with disbelief. “He said you’ve set up a sort of temporary clinic there.”
She looked away, but not before Theodore caught the gleam of real hurt in her eyes. “That traitor. Why would he tell you that?”
It didn’t sit well with him that he felt compelled to defend the handsome asshole he caught petting his consort, but Theodore felt a pang of guilt nonetheless. They had been friends once, after all, and if he could soothe away that little bit of hurt in his consort’s eyes, he would do it.
Moving his hand from the back of her chair to the warm, smooth spot between her shoulder blades, he gently explained, “Viktor and I have a long history. We were… friends as kids. Mostly.” Theodore shook his head, shaking loose the memories of a past that could not be recaptured. “He told me about the clinic because he trusts that I have your best interests at heart. He wants you safe, Margot. Just like I do.”
Margot said nothing, but something in her eyes changed. She scrutinized him openly now, her eyes no longer skittering away from his, and open confusion and wonder brought her angular brows together. When she looked at him like that, it felt like she was really seeing him.
Theodore’s heart pounded. That hint of vulnerability got a little bigger every time he saw it. It was an opening; a chink in the armor of caution that he could exploit. You can trust me, he wanted to tell her. I’m not just Sovereign. I’m yours.
It was Valen who broke the spell. “Why would Angelique put out a protection order for you, Healer Goode? And what information did she give you about the bomber?”
Margot blinked, her cheeks flushing, and hurriedly looked away. Theodore would have happily throttled the old man if only he didn’t love him so much.
“I, uh…” She cleared her throat. “I started seeing people in the Market about a month into my residency at the Healing House. I just didn’t have enough to do there, and I needed to— I needed to get out more, to meet people.”
Theodore didn’t bother to hide his unhappy glare. They both knew that the reason she “needed to meet people” was because she was on the lookout for her bondmate. Questions burned in the forefront of his mind, fueled not just by curiosity but by the ravenous sort of possessiveness he felt towards his witch.
Later, he promised himself once more. We’ll discuss it later.
Margot steadily avoided looking at him as she explained, “I talked Jimmy, the troll who runs the Market off of Carolina, into letting me use one of the old storage rooms for the weekends I could spare. Almost as soon as I showed up, people came out of the woodwork. The weres especially.” She shook her head, a look of helpless frustration passing over her fey features. “Broken bones, lacerations, head trauma. You name it. I swear, half my patients turned out to be weres. I knew they got into fights a lot because of the impulse problems, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”
