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Sorry. It’s just … well, I’m at the villa. Did she hear a low growl again? How could he do a growl telepathically? But it made her smile.
She realized she’d been blocking his physical sensations, so she lowered her shields. Too fast, apparently, because she was overwhelmed by the feel of his bare feet on the wood floor of the villa, the muscles of his legs tight and tense, his body in partial arousal, his arms flexing and unflexing.
She even stumbled. Thorne caught her arm. “You okay?”
She looked up at him and felt a blush on her cheek. “Yes, of course,” she said quickly.
But he looked concerned so she added, “I’m getting used to the breh-hedden’s quick form of communication. Leto suddenly jumped inside my head, and he surprised me.”
Thorne smiled and let go of her arm. “I know. It can be jarring when you’re not used to it.”
“You can say that again.” Jarred was the least of what she felt.
To Leto, she sent, Heading to the landing platforms now, but this is a long walk.
Can’t wait.
Because she felt him shudder, she blocked him once more so she could finally breathe. But she walked faster.
He spoke the vows that moved my heart,
I turned and opened my robe.
He split the continents wide once more,
And took the spoils he had won.
—Grace of Albion, “The Convent Years,” from Collected Poems, Beatrice of Fourth
Chapter 14
Greaves arrived at the Illinois Two Seers Fortress, and, yes, the situation with Stannett seemed to be well in hand, at least for the present. The redheaded Militia Warrior clearly hadn’t spared her whip. Stannett had only his leathers on, and his upper torso was still cut up if not bleeding. But at least Stannett looked sobered.
Still, Greaves really needed to impress on his servant the critical nature of the hour that fast approached. He backhanded him and sent him flying across the room so that he landed hard against one of the black marble walls. Stannett crumpled to the floor.
Greaves strode to his position and looked down at him. “Do I need to explain to you what has happened while you were squirting all over yourself today?”
Stannett tried to blink, but he listed sideways. His eyes showed a lot of white.
“Do you wish for my assistance, master?” The female Militia Warrior’s voice soothed him.
“No, I thank you. And again, I value how much you were able to contribute in so short a span of time.”
He reached down to Stannett and placed a hand on the man’s thick hair. He shuddered slightly at the strange stiff texture. Despite his fury, he allowed the healing waves to flow. He needed Stannett’s brain functioning so that he could get back in the future streams and do his job.
In quick stages, Stannett pulled himself upright and began to focus his eyes. When he looked up at Greaves and flinched, Greaves removed his hand and stepped back.
He folded a document into his hand and waved it at Stannett. “Do you see this paper?”
Stannett nodded.
“Good. I’m going to show it to you, and I want you to absorb what you see.” He lowered the sheet to Stannett’s eyes. It was a printout of the obsidian triad photo, all three women in full-mount, displaying the unique flame pattern of their wings.
The Seer scanned it thoroughly. A frown between his brows grew deeper and heavier with each passing second.
“Over the past few hours, have you seen anything about this in the future streams?”
Stannett blinked several times, but the frown never left his face. He shook his head slowly, his chin sinking. “Marguerite and the teams she created are very powerful. No doubt they’ve been blocking the images.”
“Undoubtedly, which means I need you to try harder. This event is scheduled for tomorrow night, yet I’ve heard nothing of it from you and your bound Seers. How is this possible?”
“I humbly beg your forgiveness.”
“I’m not here to dispense absolution. I’m only here to try to get you to understand that we’re on the verge of a major battle. And let me remind you that if your failure causes my failure, it means that Marguerite, as the Supreme High Seer of Second Earth, will have your ass in a sling. Do you understand?”
Stannett finally met his gaze and some of the false humility he’d been showing disappeared. He even looked frightened.
“Good. You’re beginning to get the bigger picture.” There was only one real way of dealing with Stannett. If he didn’t understand exactly how he could be hurt, he would continue indulging his Seer joyride.
The Militia Warrior seemed to have succeeded in reining him in for the most part, but she didn’t have the power to know what he was doing in the future streams. Only Greaves could do that.
“And now, please select your next set of Seers extremely well. I want you to spend the night hunting for information about this event. My senses tell me that it’s not what it appears to be.”
“Yes, master,” Stannett said.
Satisfied, at least for the present, Greaves folded back to Geneva and paced his office from the desk to his black leather couch and back. One thing was clear: If Greaves survived this whole damn turn of events, he was going to have to get rid of Stannett and figure out some other way of getting the information he needed.
If he survived.
For the first time in centuries, he’d begun to doubt the outcome of the war. He stared down at the printout once more. Above the three women were the words OBSIDIAN FLAME SPECTACLE EVENT AT THE CAMELBACK PARADE GROUNDS, BY PRIVATE INVITATION ONLY. AIRING ON ALL MAJOR NETWORKS WORLDWIDE. CHECK YOUR LOCAL LISTINGS.
By the time his public relations department had alerted him to the news, the photo had gone viral. Obsidian flame was now being discussed in every corner of the globe.
So with one press release, his plans had been turned upside down.
He rubbed his chin, then his slick bald head. He rubbed his chin some more.
He couldn’t quite bring his emotions under control, but he understood them. He was close to panic because it was the smaller print at the bottom of the page that disturbed him the most: AN HONOR GUARD WILL ACCOMPANY THE REMARKABLE OBSIDIAN TRIAD. Honor guard was code for a military review. But of what magnitude, and what had prompted Endelle to put obsidian flame on display? Unless of course it was to try to woo back some of the High Administrators he’d already hooked on dying blood.
He wadded the paper into a ball, tossed it into the air, then aimed a controlled hand-blast at it. The paper ignited, exploding into a ball of flames. He watched it land on the black marble of the floor and burn to ashes.
