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"Not that part," she said, and rolled her eyes. "The part about keeping his hands to himself."
He glared at William, but remained mute.
"Jealousy isn't a good look on you, Pucky," William snapped, though he did power down, the lightning under his skin fading. "But then, what is? Or is this an act to keep me in line?" He spread his arms wide. "Well, no need. Consider me lined."
"I protect my investment," Puck snapped back.
Ugh. She'd once referred to herself as an investment, hadn't she? Silly little girl.
"You'll lose her soon enough," William said.
The color in her husband's face heightened. He grabbed hanks of his hair, razors cutting his palms, blood welling. Eyes squeezed shut, he grated, "What's happening...instincts...kill threat...can't, can't."
Kill William? Because he'd threatened Puck's marriage?
Softening, Gillian reached for Puck, intending to distract him with touch. But she needn't have bothered. The Ice Man returned. Of course. He straightened, his arms falling to his sides, his expression devoid of any emotion.
Disappointment struck, but she ignored it. What had she expected?
"Gillian!" a familiar voice squealed.
The patter of footsteps echoed...a stampede of them, actually, growing closer by the second. Both Puck and William braced for attack a split second before a gaggle of children circled her, shoving the guys out of the way.
Her heart nearly burst with love as she received smiles, hugs and kisses. These rescued children adored her, and the feeling was mutual.
One of their teachers called out, "All right, children. Enough. You've got a paper to write, and our queen has duties to oversee."
Amid groans of disappointment, Gillian promised to visit the school later on. Just like that, the groans were replaced by cheers. The children raced away.
William gazed at her with a quizzical expression. "Queen?"
She shrugged. "Tradition is strong in Amaranthia, aye? Though I've created a democracy, most Shawazons prefer the old ways, with a ruling class."
"After your--I can't bring myself to say the B-word." He shuddered. "I researched Puck and learned a few things about his homeland. Females are often forced to become fillies in a stable with hundreds of others. They are banned from the battlefield and punished if they dare learn to read or write." He spat the words at Puck, as if her husband should carry all the blame.
"That is changing," she said, her chest puffing up. "A few of my women have stables of their own, where men are like kept stallions. We war, and we learn whatever we want without reservation."
Frowning now, William massaged the back of his neck. "I should have trained you to fight when we first met."
"I wasn't ready," she admitted. Back then, any hint of violence had panicked her.
With his arms crisscrossed over his chest, his biceps bigger than her hopes and dreams, Puck stared her down. "Do you have a stable of stallions?"
"Dude. If only!" She suspected having a stable wasn't the same as dating in his mind.
William gaped at her, as if she'd just admitted to being pregnant with triplet demons. "You desire a stable?"
"Like you have any room to judge," she said, and humphed. "You've been with ninety-nine percent of the female population. Boy, you get around."
He reached for her again, only to catch himself, fist his hand, and drop his arm to his side. A flare of irritation in his eyes before he said, his voice low and husky, "Merely practice for you."
Oh, please. "How many times have you used that particular line?"
"When compared to the size of my hit it and quit it number, practically zero," he replied, only slightly abashed.
How many did "practically" equal? She motioned the guys forward, not daring to look Puck's way. He'd gone silent, which wasn't a good sign. The best predators watched and waited...
"Come on," she said. "Let's finish the tour." The sooner she got to Peanut, the better.
In the ensuing half hour, every woman who spotted Puck and William had one of three reactions. A fit of giggles, a blush, or a seductive wave. William waved back, even winked a time or twelve, but Puck pretended not to notice--or maybe he didn't notice. He remained focused on Gillian as she talked about the homes she'd helped build. How, after paying an architectural engineer and finding out what she'd needed, she and her clanswomen had spent decades digging with tools and magic until reaching a layer of compacted soil beneath the sand. They'd also dragged, carried, magically hauled or manufactured different-sized stones and metals to the campsite to create screw piles, gravel for concrete, and everything else they'd required.
A lot of hard work, a lot of time and energy, and a lot of trial and error, but totally worth it. They'd created secure homes with all the essentials: stove, storage, arsenal and space for a bed.
Because the Shawazons lived near a gorgeous, pristine lake, other clans constantly attacked, hoping to take over.
Hat tip to anyone who managed to do the impossible.
"I'm amazed," William said. "My delicate girl has--"
"Delicate?" Oh, but he'd raised her hackles with that little gem. He refused to see her another way, despite everything she'd shown him? Well, she'd have to teach him better. "Hold my daggers," she said to Puck.
William hurried to reassure her. "I merely complimented you. You've changed, strengthened. Stories of your exploits will be told long after you've gone."
Her stomach flip-flopped as realization settled in. He expected her to leave Amaranthia. No doubt Puck did as well, after he'd won the Connacht crown. As archaic as he was, he might cut the Shawazons from an all-clan alliance.
Tingles on the back of her neck. Heat racing down her spine. She dug her nails into her palms, drawing blood. Inhale, exhale. Hulking-out won't do anyone any good. Searching for calm...there. A well of confidence.
No one cut the Shawazons from an alliance!
"Do you expect me to leave Amaranthia when you become king?" she demanded.
He frowned at her. "Of course."
Knew it! "Too bad. Unlike you, I finish what I start." She would be staying, and she would remain queen. Her people would be protected, always.
You will not have a happy ending...
She tuned out the Oracles' prediction, even as her stomach performed another flip-flop.
Frown deepening, Puck tilted his head, his study of her intensifying. "What are you trying to tell me?"
He needed clarity? Fine. She'd spell it out. "If you try to disband the Shawazons when you unite the clans, I will find a way to dethrone you." Gillian was tempted to use the last of her magic, just to prove her strength. Something she would have done without hesitation as a pluc
ky two-hundred-year-old. But she was older now, wiser, and refused to waste the hard-won gift she'd acquired. She wielded magic for protection, defense and survival, not bragging rights.
She expected resistance. She'd threatened him, after all. But he softened. "Your clan will always have a place here, lass."
Really? "Okay. Yes. Thank you." Goodbye, indignation.
No, not goodbye. Not entirely. Like a parasite, indignation found a way inside William. He flicked the tip of his tongue against an incisor, as if he could taste the blood of his enemy--and liked it.
To divert him, she said, "I showed you mine, now you show me yours. What else did you do during my absence? And don't you dare tell me a gentleman never spills."
"Oh, I won't, poppet." His voice possessed a formal tone he'd never before used with her. "Even gentlemen spill with the proper incentive."
His meaning crystalized, and she blushed like a maiden of 216.
Puck sucked in a breath, as if he...what? Liked her blush? Or maybe he just wanted to murder William for flirting? Either way, meow. Won't look. Any heat would fade from his dark eyes with their glittering starbursts, and he would regard her with cold disinterest.
"Other than drinking myself into stupors and fighting beside my father in the underworld?" William sighed. "I threw man-tantrums, searched for you and considered all the ways to punish Puck."
Ha! Man-tantrums. The worst kind. And William's were even worse than most!
"So what's your favorite method?" Puck asked. He didn't sound curious or upset or even particularly intrigued.
"That's easy." William rubbed his hands together, all evil overlord. "Skinning you alive to make a flesh coat, then wearing it as I hack you to bits. Slowly. You'll become a cautionary tale. The moral? When someone hopes to experience the horrors of hell on Earth, mess with my woman."
Puck stiffened, his body language saying more than words. Basically: She's all mine, hands off, or get bent.
At least, that was what Gillian heard. And dang it, the possessiveness kinda sorta delighted her. Not that it would last. "I'm not yours, or anyone's," she told William. "You're my friend, but..."
William took her rejection in stride, saying, "You aren't mine today...but you will be. I'll make sure of it."
She almost asked, What about your curse?
And, Do you think I'm the one destined to slay you?
