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All the speculation, however, wouldn’t change what he needed to do next.
He turned to Stone and clapped him on the shoulder. “If you have ideas about how we should move forward, I want to hear them.”
“I’ve been thinking of nothing else.”
“Is it time to contact the queen? Hell, from what I’ve heard, Rosamunde has her land shrouded in a similar kind of shielding mist.”
Stone frowned. “Actually, I spoke with her earlier.”
“You called her?”
“She called me. She’s had a premonition Margetta is building to something big.”
It wasn’t so long ago that Mastyr Quinlan had discovered the queen living in a shielded land between the borders of Grochaire Realm and Walvashorr. She was over a thousand years old and had essentially been in hiding for most of that time. A few rumors were rife she was related to Margetta, but nothing had been proven. Ian had once asked Davido if he knew of a kinship between Rosamunde and Margetta, but the ancient troll had avoided answering the question.
“Will Rosamunde get involved?” Ian asked. “If she can create a similar shielding mist to Margetta’s, maybe she could bust through this one near the gorge. Will you at least ask?”
At that, Stone’s nostrils flared. The brother was angry.
“What?”
“I already did. The queen refused.”
“I don’t understand,” Ian said. “Why?”
“Basically, she’s convinced this isn’t her battle, otherwise she would have jumped in sooner, as in centuries ago. She said it’s a fae thing and she’s not to be involved.”
Ian knew better than to question Rosamunde’s decision. The fae of the Nine Realms had to answer to their highest calling first and sometimes that meant counter-intuitive decision-making.
“Ian?” Regan’s voice had him turning in her direction, Stone as well. She stood on the porch, her striped satchel in hand, but she wore a different set of clothes. The battle-stained lot had been covered in blood. She now wore a long, violet sweater and jeans, though she’d put on her ankle boots again.
Her thick, light brown hair was parted in the middle and hung in a mass around her shoulders. It appeared to be damp. No doubt she’d needed to shower after the battle with the wraith.
His heart felt strangely compressed as he looked at her and desire rose once more.
“Ready when you are,” she said.
“Give me a sec?”
“Absolutely.” She set the satchel down on the front step and nodded.
His forearms felt heated, and looking down, he saw the tattoos were glowing. Regan’s appearance had activated the tattoos. The problem was, they also made him acutely aware that Stone was a mastyr vampire and would crave Regan the way Ian did. Ben, as well.
He backed away from both Guardsmen, glancing from one to the other.
“Holy shit,” Stone muttered. “They’re alive, aren’t they?”
“Part of my skin now.” Against his rational mind, Ian’s battle vibration fired up and his fangs thrummed in his gums. Despite the protection the tattoos offered, on a primal level he was preparing to defend Regan against other potential contenders.
Because Stone was the more powerful of the two mastyrs, he held Stone’s gaze, his shoulders hunched, but Stone only smiled. “I think the blood tattoos are working for you, because I’m not feeling a thing toward Regan.”
“Me, neither,” Ben added.
Still, Ian’s words came out on a growl as he shifted his gaze once more between the men. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Stone took a step back and tossed up both hands in a gesture of surrender as did Ben.
Ian forced himself to calm down. He couldn’t believe how fast he’d been ready to do battle with Stone again. Ben as well, if needed.
