“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Someone get the record books, Thane has apologized.” The raspy quip makes us all look at the bed. Catalina has her eyes cracked. She still looks too pale and almost frail, but she must be feeling better if she can mouth off.
Azazel is at her side in an instant. “I apologize, Catalina. I didn’t realize Thane’s intentions to travel the way he did, or I would have educated him on the dangers involved for you.”
She looks at him, and there’s something wary in her hazel eyes that makes me want to shift between Azazel and her. It doesn’t make any sense. If anything, she should be looking to the demon for protection from me. Azazel is a fearsome leader, but he has a reputation for taking great care with his humans. Surely she must know that, or she wouldn’t have entered into the bargain with him in the first place.
Catalina blinks, and the moment passes. “I’m fine. No harm done.”
“I disagree,” he growls.
“Well, it doesn’t really matter if you agree or not, does it? Now be a good demon daddy and tell Thane you’re not going to take his territory over a simple misunderstanding.”
Embry’s eyes are far too wide as ze takes in the human. “Catalina—”
“A simple mistake,” Catalina says firmly. It doesn’t seem to matter that she’s flat on her back in a room filled with three beings bigger and stronger than her. There’s not even a waver there.
Something akin to admiration flares inside me. I don’t understand this woman, and frankly, I find her borderline abrasive in the short time we’ve known each other, but she’s no coward.
Azazel curses softly. “I promised you safety, Catalina.”
“There are no guarantees in this world, just like there are no guarantees in mine.” She smiles a little. “Thanks for riding to my rescue like a horny knight in shining armor, but I’m perfectly fine.”
She’s lying through her teeth. Oh, it’s not there in her voice or her placid expression, but I can feel it in her body all the same. She’s not fine, for all that she wants us to believe it. But why? What motivation could she possibly have to lie for me? If the contract is broken, Azazel will sweep her back to the castle and spend the next seven years ensuring she wants for nothing to make up for it. He’s a bastard, but he’s a fair one.
Azazel finally nods. “Should anything change—”
“It won’t.”
He turns to me. “No more mistakes, Thane.”
“You have my word.” I didn’t intend to be careless with her, but Azazel is right. Intentions matter little where harm is concerned. “It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.” He stalks to the door and disappears through it. I feel the moment he leaves my keep through a portal of his making. It’s a disturbance in the air, there and gone in a moment.
“Let’s get you down.” Embry guides the bubble of healing magic down to the bed. “You should stay inside it for a few minutes or so, though. The spell will fade then, and you’ll be free to move about. I believe you’re fine now, but I would prefer to err on the side of caution.”
“Okay.” Catalina’s smile goes a bit soft and far more real than I’ve seen in our short acquaintance. “I promise to be good and lie here until the spell ends.” She makes a face. “Spells. I don’t know why that’s what trips me up about this whole experience, but it’s very strange.”
“You’ve had some big shocks.” Embry smiles down at her. “Try to take it easy and give yourself some space to adjust.”
Embry always was better with this sort of thing than I am. Ze knows exactly the right things to say and, most importantly, ze genuinely cares. Ze will be a great leader when I step down.
Exhaustion weighs on me. I never wanted to lead. Being the eldest sibling put me in that position, and I did my duty as tradition demanded. I knew the cost would be great, but I never reckoned on losing nearly everything. What point is there in a throne when the person I loved most in this world is gone?
Grief is a strange thing. Some moments, even years later, the loss of Brant is enough to make me feel like I’ll never breathe again. But yesterday, I realized I can’t remember the exact angle of his smile. Time may heal most wounds, but the cost of that healing is more than I’m comfortable paying.
I don’t want to do this, to play caretaker to this human with the entirety of the territory hanging in the balance. But stepping down now means dumping this whole mess in Embry’s lap, and I won’t do that to zir.
“I’ll take it from here,” I say softly.
Ze looks at me askance but shrugs. “Try not to upset her.”
I don’t know if that’s possible. This strange woman has managed to confound me several times during our short acquaintance. I can’t imagine I’m going to suddenly become better at interpersonal communication in the next three minutes. “I won’t.”
Embry hesitates but finally shakes zir head and leaves the room. With zir gone, there’s no one to look at except the human on the bed. Catalina has her eyes closed, which should be a welcome relief, but without her staring me down with that wild look in her eyes, she seems . . . smaller.
“I’m sorry.”
“It would be a shame to lose your kingdom on the first day.” She says it so carelessly, as if her life matters so little.
It shouldn’t bother me. I don’t know this woman. She’s nothing to me, and my people matter far more than one human life. And yet . . . “I have no wish to harm you.” That’s not good enough, though. I’ve almost killed her. Surely I can give a little more explanation as to why I was so careless. “Being around the other territory leaders is challenging for me. It wasn’t very long ago that we were in open conflict with each other, and Sol—”
She opens her eyes. “The dragon.”
“How do you know that?” We were only in the main room with the group for a brief encounter, and no one spoke.
“Lucky guess.” She closes her eyes again. “You went out of your way to keep more distance between you and the dragon than you did with any of the others.”
She noticed that?
I move closer to the bed despite myself. Really, Catalina is quite fetching for a human. She’s soft and pale with lovely dark hair. Her lips are also . . . No. Best not to think about her lips. I clear my throat. “One of his people killed my husband five years ago. The bracelet on your wrist was made by him, the last one he made if I’m not mistaken.”
“What?” Her eyes fly open. “Oh, Thane, I’m so sorry.”
I wave that away. I can’t stand pity. Enough of my people have it lingering in their eyes when they look at me. Escaping Brant’s loss is impossible, but the weight of it seems to increase the more time I spend in others’ presences. Embry is the exception, but ze is the person I’m closest to in this world. Ze knows the last thing I want is pity. “It was a long time ago, but Ramanu holding it made me forget myself.”
“Five years is both a long time and no time at all.” Something in her voice speaks to experience, but it’s flavored differently. She didn’t lose someone, but she lost . . . something. I’m tempted to ask, but I don’t want to give her a false sense of what this is.