Page 88 of Consort's Glory
She lifted her head to glower at him. “Yes, now.”
“I’m not complaining,” he rushed to explain. “I’m just… I mean, a shower seems like a weird time, is all.”
Gods, but she was cute when she stuck out her little jaw like that. It made him want to bite her all over. “Do you want me to tell you, or do you want me to keep it to myself some more?”
Forcing himself to be serious, and to push the hyper awareness of her naked body against his to the back of his mind for the moment, he nodded. “Of course I want you to tell me.”
He wanted to know everything about her — even the parts she kept hidden from the rest of the world. Maybe especially those parts. Her secrets were his to keep, his to guard. Soon, she would understand that, above all else, Theodore’s loyalty belonged to her and her alone.
When Margot hesitated, her expression contorted with distress, he smoothed his bands up her delicate spine and reminded her, “I’ve already shared my secrets with you. I trust you. Are you going to trust me?”
“It’s hard for me,” she reluctantly answered, petting his chest in the same rhythm he used to stroke her back. He wondered if she knew she was doing it.
“Okay. Can you explain why it’s hard? That might be an easier place to start. We can circle backwards.” Her look of surprise was both endearing and a little insulting. Dryly, he informed her, “I have a big family and I’m the leader of an entire territory, darling. I know how to listen.”
“Right.” She swallowed again, her eyes lowering until all he could see was the sweep of wet lashes against the tops of her flushed cheeks. “So… It’s like this: My whole life, my grandma has kept me safe. Very safe. The reason I’m not in line to become Matriarch? Because it wouldn’t be safe. The reason I’m not head of my own Ward by now, making huge strides in healing? It’s not safe. Nowhere is safe. Even the Goodeland.”
Theodore’s fingers flexed on her back, instinct driving him to bring her closer, to protect her from whatever threat she perceived but he could not. “I don’t understand. You’re from the most powerful Coven in the UTA. You’re a healer, and I saw what you’re capable of in that basement. What could you possibly have to fear?”
Margot might be small, but his consort was fierce. The memory of her bolt of electricity running through his gloves to snap up his arms was bitingly fresh.
Her eyes lifted to meet his. They were beautiful, unusual. Bright, almost reflective copper that shone with old hurt and the clear anticipation of oncoming pain. “You,” she answered, the word bouncing off of the marble like a chorus of accusation.
Theodore’s brows bunched hard. A bruise settled into his heart. Even now, after everything, she saw him as a threat? “That’s what your grandmother said, too, but…” He swallowed hard, afraid his voice would break. “You have to know by now that I would never hurt you, Margot. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. You’re everything to me.”
Her fingers were a soft pressure on his jaw, her expression going stark with the realization that she’d caused him pain. “No, no,” she hurried on, “not you. I meant you as in elves. I see now that you wouldn’t hurt me, I swear.” Margot dropped a small, apologetic kiss to his sternum before she continued. “But the rest of your kind? Theodore, you have to understand that my whole life I’ve been taught — it’s been drilled into me — that if I ever find myself caught in a room with one of you, my life is over.”
Some of his hurt eased, his beast satisfied knowing that she didn’t distrust him, but his confusion lingered. “What? Why? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Elves, as a rule, had nothing against witches. Sure, they might have eaten them as snacks for a while, but that stopped hundreds of years ago. If anything, elves had a grudging respect for the Collective’s bargaining power and political acumen.
Besides, witches and elves shared the favor of Glory. They were spiritual siblings, if not friends. There was no reason for a witch to fear elves, let alone have their entire life dictated by that fear.
He could see, now, where that hunted look in her eyes came from. Tension made every line of her lovely, fey face rigid, her lips pressing hard together into a bloodless grimace. Her pulse throbbed in her neck, and when he took in a deep breath, even the sweet water of the steam was tinged with the acrid scent of anxiety.
Margot’s fingers slid from his jaw to rest against his throat. His beast purred a contented song in his soul, its devotion to her a foundational, unshakable thing.
The throat was the most vulnerable place on an elf, where diamond-hard claws could so easily end a life that should last centuries. Did she know that the baring of his throat to her was a sign of absolute trust? That his lack of reaction, his total acceptance of her blunt nails on his pounding jugular, meant he was hers?
“My love,” he whispered raggedly, torn up by the sight of so much pain in her, by the poison churning through their bond. “I’m here. You can tell me anything. I’ll protect you from the world if I have to.”
It was a shock to see a liquid sheen of tears in her eyes. Worse, to see those tears overflow, dripping down her cheeks in rivulets that mixed with warm, sweet water. In an achingly soft voice, she confessed, “I’m afraid that if I tell you, you won’t look at me like that anymore. I only just got you and I don’t… I don’t want to lose you.”
It was his turn to cup her cheeks. His sorrow was like gravel under his skin, grating against every fine nerve. “You won’t,” he swore. “You couldn’t.”
Margot tilted her head into his hands. Her eyes closed. For a long, taut moment, the only sound in the shower was the fall of water from the grate over their heads and the low hiss of steam.
When she finally spoke, Margot’s voice was so soft, it was nearly lost in the small space between them. “I’m a half-breed.”
Theodore blinked. “I… what?”
In a stronger voice, but with her eyes still firmly shut, she said, “My mother is an elf. My dad is a witch, a brightling. My parents left me with my grandma and Noni Tula when I was born, and they raised me. They taught me everything. And… they made sure no one ever found out.” Margot opened her eyes to stare bleakly at him. “That’s my secret. I shouldn’t exist.”
“I…” Theodore struggled to connect her words with what he knew, with the woman he held in his arms, with everything he valued. Confusion snarled those connections into a tangled mess. “Half-breed?” he repeated dumbly.
Margot’s expression took on its own look of confusion. “Yes?”
He took half a step back, extending his arms so he could scan her slight build with his critical gaze. No, she couldn’t be a halfling. Not because they didn’t exist, but because she looked so very, entirely human.
