Page 65 of Consort's Glory
For a long,taut moment, Theodore was certain she would refuse him.
His stomach, already in knots of anxiety and the sharp yank of the pull, knotted further. He didn’t want to have to fetch her. He didn’t want to spook her any more than she obviously was.
But if it came down to it, he would.
Not because the pull demanded it, her nearness a craving his body could not circumvent or ignore, but because her safety was his responsibility. He took her under his protection. He made a vow. It gutted him to think that his consort felt his word meant so little — that her fear was great enough to make jumping out of a moving vehicle the better option.
Margot, he said into the bond connecting their minds like a sleek electric bridge. Please let me in.
Theodore could almost hear her indecision. When she spoke, her inner voice was a rolling storm cloud in his mind; deliciously elemental, with a bite of pure power in every word.
Do you say please often?
He crouched in front of the small rectangular window, fighting the urge to pry the damn thing from the old brick wall so he could see her. It felt like she was playing for time, and that made his claws curl anxiously against the thick glass. He needed to see her. He couldn’t breathe for it.
Squeezing his eyes closed, he forced himself to answer. Why wouldn’t I?
You’re the sovereign. I didn’t think you would actually ask for anything.
Do you really think so little of me? Theodore shook his head. Dominance and entitlement are weapons in the sovereign’s arsenal. That’s what my sister taught me, and what I had to learn to rule this territory. But I grew up with three siblings and four parental figures. Do you really think I could get away with being that sort of ass with so many family members breathing down my neck?
There was a drawn out note of surprise in her inner voice when she answered, No, I guess not.
I can be high-handed, he allowed, and I’m impatient. But I’m not above begging, if it’ll get me what I want. If you want me on my knees, darling, I’m already there.
He couldn’t make out anything beyond the grimy, cracked window, but Theodore knew the moment she drew close. It should have been humiliating, crouching in the dust and detritus outside her window, the knees of his expensive suit ruined as he pressed his nose to the glass, but it was her, and for her he would endure anything.
What do you want?
Working to keep his inner voice calm, to not betray any of the urgency he felt pounding in his veins, Theodore answered, You.
Shifting shadows, an indistinct shape on the other side of the dark window. His heart jumped into his throat.
Why? So you can have my magic?
Was he imagining the yearning in her voice? That brittleness that was so at odds with the sheer magnitude of her presence?
Theodore couldn’t resist sweeping his claws over the glass, wishing it was her cheek he was caressing. No, darling. Let me in. Let's talk. Give me a chance to convince you I only want to care for you. That I’m not some monster.
I don’t think you’re a monster, she said, surprising him. Why do you think that?
Darling, you jumped out of a moving vehicle to get away from me. What else am I supposed to think?
Oh. Yes, I guess that would give you that impression.
And they would have words about her stunt, he promised himself. Strong words. Later.
Open the window, darling, he pressed. I need to see you with my own eyes. He paused, suddenly gripped by a more visceral fear. You aren’t hurt, are you? I should have asked that already, but I assumed since you got here on your own…
I’m fine. Viktor gave me a ride. Couldn’t you just break in? Or send your guards in to retrieve me? Why bother to ask?
Theodore traced the seam of the window sill, his patience thinning until it was nearly nonexistent. Of course I could, but that wouldn’t exactly help your image of me, would it? Not to mention the fact that the idea of sending in his men to retrieve her like some criminal made his spine lock. But did you say Viktor—
Don’t worry about Viktor. Are your guards out there?
His guards were currently surrounding the Market. They were shadows melting into plain sight, their claws at the ready, and he trusted the elite group of soldiers with more than just his life. They were a selected group of elvish bastards, entitled to no family name and no inheritance, given over to Patrol at the age of fifteen to become more than nameless, hidden offspring.
The members of the Sovereign’s Guard were hand picked from amongst them and, at Valen’s insistence, trained alongside Theodore from the moment he could use his claws. They were his extended family, his friends and siblings-in-arms. If push came to shove, he would even trust them with Margot.
