Nezara closed her eyes for one second, like I’d given her a headache.
I would not take the words back.
Maisie was my mate. My body had known it from the first breath. My blood had known. Every instinct I had had been dragging me toward her since the day she stepped onto my land with fear in her eyes and my death sentence in her scent.
But she wasn’t a prize.
This wasn’t a thing I got to declare and claim and be done with.
I looked down at her. “If she wants me.”
Her lips parted. The corridor went silent.
“I want you,” she said.
My control almost broke right there.
Then her brow furrowed. “Wait. Mate? Kazan, what does that mean? Is that a real thing? Like a real, biological?—”
“Later,” Nezara said quickly.
Maisie’s fingers tightened in my shirt. “You’re going to explain everything.”
“Yes.” I would deny her nothing.
Nezara exhaled. “Good. Now please come inside before someone gives me a reason to retire.”
Maisie reached for my hand. I took it. Her fingers were small inside mine, but the second they locked there, the killing quieted. Not gone. It never went away. But quieter.
It was quiet enough that I could walk into the courtroom without counting how many steps it would take to reach the panel. I could look at the gallery and not think about bringing it down. When I saw the holo-projector at the front of the room, I didn’t immediately rip it out of the floor.
The vanguard followed us in.
They filled the back of the room, all horn and shoulder and silent threat. Remmen took a seat at the front because he was the mayor and knew how to pretend this was civilized. Lorkin remained standing with Zarcal and Korfas.
Nezara took her place with two other Agency officers and Pell.
Then the projector lit, and James appeared on the dais.
He was smaller than I had expected. Pale. Carefully dressed. His suit looked expensive and uncomfortable, and his hair was combed too neatly. He wore calm like armor, hands folded in front of him, expression patient and wounded.
I hated him on sight.
Not because he was handsome. He was, in a soft, polished sort of way. I hated him because Maisie went still beside me.
Not afraid exactly. Worse.
Remembering.
I tightened my hand around hers once. Not to hold her back. Just to remind her that I was there. She squeezed back.
One of the panel officers looked down at the record. “Mr. Pell, you filed the suspension?”
“Yes.”
“And Mr. James Varrick is recognized as the original claimant.” The officer turned toward the projection. “State your interest.”
James inclined his head. “Thank you. I want to begin by saying I bear Maisie no ill will.”
