Leave it to Nolan to demand a fast track to the end of the conversation. “Just that I plan for it to be the four of us and Fallon at the actual execution. We’ll only publicize the fire.”
“You don’t want Cara or Larus there?” Nox asks, sounding surprised.
“He doesn’t want to risk them being hurt if Fallon implodes,” Nolan replies, his gaze on me despite answering Nox’s question. “They’re the seconds-in-command. You need them alive and well in case shit hits the fan. Right?”
I dip my chin in confirmation of his assessment. “That’s not to say I don’t value the three of you. I’ve chosen you to assist me for a reason.”
“Protection.” Nolan gestures at the phantoms as he says the word. “And you want me there because you know I’ll kill her if I have to.”
“Yes,” I admit, aware that he’s likely the only one of us who will be able to execute Fallon if needed.
Normally, I would take on the task myself. However, my mind will barely allow me to think of that consequence, making me concerned that I may hesitate.
While I’ll do everything in my power to protect my House, there’s something about Fallon that makes me want to break all my rules. She sets me off with every infuriating conversation, her subtle defiance easily dismantling a millennium of perfected calm.
To say she’s capable of getting under my skin is an understatement.
The woman is a conundrum I can’t decipher or tame, and she drives me crazy as a result.
Killing her is simply something I don’t want to contemplate, even if it’s an inevitability. So yes, that’s why I need Nolan. He’s the practical one. The stoic one. The one capable of carrying out every job handed to him regardless of emotional entanglements.
I may be the mercenary with the best aim in Gold and Garnet, but Nolan is the assassin with a fully focused mind. When he’s given a task, he sees it through, even when it hurts.
He nods once, his expression giving nothing away. “Understood. Anything else?”
“No,” I admit.
“Good. I need to stretch my wings.” The multicolored feathers appear behind him as he speaks, his plumes taking on a goldish hue in the low lighting of my living room. “You know how to reach me if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll see you in three days.”
He doesn’t wait for me to reply, just strolls over to my balcony doors, opens them, and steps outside to disappear into the night.
I run a hand over my face, exhaustion hitting me hard in the chest. Not even my drink can save my mood now.
“You’re right about her not deserving this fate.” My words are soft and meant for the phantoms, as they’ve both voiced this thought several times over the last year. “However, I learned long ago that it’s impossible to truly divert from our destinies. Sometimes we can run, but we’ll never get far. And Klas… he has to die.”
Just like Fallon will if her power proves unmanageable after the fated-mate bond is severed.
I shoot the rest of my bourbon into my throat, ignoring the fact that I had far more than a mouthful of it left, and slam the glass down on the end table.
“I don’t know how to make her more comfortable, but if you two think of anything, feel free to do whatever is needed.” I meet Nox’s gaze. “With the exception of taking her out of my quarters.”
“What is it you think she’s going to do?” Nox asks. “Play in a cemetery?”
“I honestly don’t know what she would do if we let her go,” I tell him. “Which is precisely the problem. She’s hiding something. And until we figure out what that is, she stays.”
“There’s also the issue of her ties to Klas and the fact her power is what he used to subdue the city,” Bane murmurs. “It’s not just about what Fallon may do when given freedom; it’s about what other House members may do to her, too.”
That last point seems to resonate with Nox, his blue eyes sparking with a flare of anger. “I can protect her.”
“Wecan protect her,” Bane corrects. “Ifshe allows it.”
Nox scowls and picks up the drink I poured him thirty minutes ago, the liquor mostly untouched. He growls something unintelligible under his breath and downs the contents in one swallow.
“I know you both care about her.”Hell, I do, too, for reasons I don’t understand.Not that I’ll admit that out loud. “She’s… Well, I don’t know how to describe her. Stubborn. A bit of a brat. Fails to comprehend authority.”
“Strong. Beautiful. Defiant.” Nox tosses the terms at me like arrows directly to the chest.
“She’s a survivor,” Bane adds, his tone wistful. “The woman has been through hell, yet she still faces every day with a renewed energy about her. She’ll carry that same energy with her into the execution. And she’ll survive.”
