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“You did. You put the pressure on, you kept your window open, you made sure it happened. Yeah, I’m really proud of you.”
When his phone buzzed, he almost didn’t answer it. But what the hell. “Give.”
Thorne’s voice rasped through the line. “Come over to the Cave and bring Parisa with you. Endelle’s here with news.” The line went dead.
Medichi scowled at the phone. What the hell was going on now, and why did Thorne have to be barking orders at this time of night? Besides, with Parisa tucked under his arm, he’d started getting a certain idea about just what they should be doing next … to celebrate their hard-won victory.
So, shit.
“Thorne wants us at the Cave.”
“Why?”
“Endelle’s there. Apparently she has some kind of announcement to make.”
Parisa pulled away from him and looked around the rotunda. “She’s not here?”
“I know, I know. But that’s Endelle for you.”
The heat of an argument
Brings truth rushing to the surface.
—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
Chapter 20
“What do you mean there are twenty-one more facilities like the one we just raided?” Thorne’s voice held a dangerous edge.
Parisa stared at him then shifted her gaze back to Endelle. The woman’s hair seemed strange, as though she’d been in a wind tunnel. She didn’t seem to care.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Why the f**k are you arguing with me. Let’s just say that my source is irrefutable and if any of you are guessing who it is don’t say the name out loud and for shit’s sake shield that thought.”
Parisa didn’t know who they were talking about. She glanced at Antony, who stood beside her. He met her gaze but shook his head. Maybe he would tell her later or maybe it just wasn’t important.
“I want to take charge of this,” Parisa said. She took a step forward almost without realizing that she’d just done either of these things: spoken aloud or moved toward Madame Endelle.
“You?” Endelle cried. Her upper lip curled.
“Why not?” Parisa returned. She planted her own hands on her hips so that she mirrored Her Supremeness. She still wore her makeshift version of battle gear, the buckled female weapons harness, the dagger with the ruby embedded in the hilt, black cargo pants. She could even mount her wings if she needed to.
Endelle looked her up and down. “You playing at warrior or what?”
“Yeah. I am. And in case you don’t know, I’m entering the Female Militia Warrior Training Camps as soon as possible.”
Endelle laughed. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Why the f**k not?” Parisa cried. She had mimicked Endelle’s speech pattern without even thinking about it.
For the first time, Endelle narrowed her gaze. “You’re serious.”
“I’m serious.”
“Why?” She glanced around at the men. When her gaze landed on Antony, she added, “You may want to think twice. Your man doesn’t look very happy about this decision.”
“He’ll get over it or he won’t,” Parisa responded. No, Antony wasn’t happy about it, but right now she didn’t care.
Parisa had a mission.
“Tough words, ascender. But this won’t be a fancy book-reading in an air-conditioned back room. Are you sure you’ve got the guts for it?”
“Truth? I don’t know, but I know it’s the path I want to follow.”
“What the hell happened in New Zealand anyway?” Endelle shifted her gaze to Thorne.
Parisa could see that there was an exchange. She knew Endelle shared a mind-link with Thorne though whether he could share images with her, Parisa didn’t know.
Endelle turned wide eyes back to Parisa. “You stuck Rith with your blade? More than once?”
Parisa’s cheeks grew warm. “I confess I lost control and did more damage to the cot he fell on than to the man. Rith dematerialized. But all the more reason I should enter a training program. I have a lot to learn.”
“Huh.” She glanced around. “Well, I guess nothing needs to be decided right this minute. Let me give it some thought, ascender.”
“Of course.” Parisa stood with her left arm slung behind her back, the way she had seen Antony stand when addressing Madame Endelle. It was a warrior pose.
Endelle looked her up and down once more. Her brows rose as she said, “Well, damn, ascender. Damn.”
***
Medichi was just about ready to bust two pairs of balls.
Kerrick and Marcus stood in identical stances—arms folded across chests, grins spread over both faces as they stared back at him. Under different circumstances it would have been welcomed that both of them understood right now what he was going through. But those smiles made him want to clock them both. If they’d been closer, the hell he would have restrained the impulse.
He was just pissed off with a capital P.
Goddammit.
Parisa needed to be taught a lesson. A big one. He resented everything about her attitude right now, that she was going to take charge of finding the remaining D&R slaves, that she was going to become a warrior, that she was heading to the Female Militia Warrior Training Camps to train for battle. As though he had no say in the matter, as though he wasn’t important to her, as though he could eat shit and die for all she cared. This wasn’t a relationship. This was every man for himself—or woman in this case.
Inaccessible? Try moved-to-outer-space-and-good-luck, ass**le!
What the hell was she thinking, training camps? The women there were butch as hell. They’d eat her alive.
“Medichi,” Thorne cried. “Listen up!” Medichi blinked at him and ignored the way Marcus elbowed Kerrick and their f**king grins broadened.
“Yes, boss,” he said. He glanced around. Where the hell had Endelle gone?
“Take Parisa back to the villa. You’re still on guardian duty until Endelle says otherwise. Given the fact that Rith still seems to be captivated by our latest ascender, we’re keeping her on emergency level. Got it?”
Even though Medichi wanted to argue, he said, “Got it.”
“Good.” His gaze skated over the rest of the group. “Well done, ass**les. Let’s have a drink and a toast, then we’ll get the hell out of here. Time to take out more pretty-boys.”
Medichi’s thighs, heavy with muscle, shimmied. His arms ached from holding himself together. His throat was tight for all the words he’d jammed down to keep from spewing everywhere. He didn’t want to yell at Parisa, but boy did she have a tongue-lashing coming.
