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Because Griffin needed Margetta to leave, he spoke at the same time as Fulton. “Yes, Mistress.”
Margetta levitated swiftly up to a balcony on the third floor where she had her private quarters with Gustave.
When she disappeared inside, Fulton grabbed Griffin by the throat. “This isn’t finished. Margetta may have bought your bullshit, but I don’t. Sandra doesn’t sleep with anyone and if she did, she wouldn’t choose your pansy-ass.”
Fulton had been after her for a long time.
Griffin stared back at Fulton. If he had to, he’d kill Fulton. Right now, he let the mastyr huff and puff until he finally released Griffin and strolled back to the sparring lines.
Griffin stayed stuck in one place for a few more seconds. As his gaze again slid to the fortress, he knew one thing: He had to find a way to escape from the fortress with Sandra and he had to do it before Margetta forced an Invictus bond on Sandra.
~ ~ ~
The news that Margetta was planning a bonding ceremony within the next few hours, worked in Sandra’s mind like a virus. Each minute that passed filled her head with more and more of the Invictus horror. She knew what the pairs became, how changed the Realm-folk were once they’d entered the terrible bond. Each embraced battling with a maniacal fervor.
She didn’t want to become that kind of woman.
She had few calm moments as she went about her post-midnight duties. Mostly, she stayed in the kitchen doing whatever Yvonne needed her to do. But her movements were agitated and more than once she dropped a pot or pan and finally shattered a glass bowl on the stone floor.
The housekeeper stopped her mid-stride and grabbed both her arms. She then yelled at her dish-scrubbers to get out.
Once she was alone with Sandra, she held her gaze and spoke quietly. “What’s wrong? What’s happened? Tell me, because I’ve never seen you like this before.”
Sandra’s voice caught on a sob. She didn’t want to burden Yvonne, but she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’m to be bonded in a few hours. Margetta has picked out a wraith for me.”
The troll’s three forehead ridges tightened. “Oh, no. I’ve feared this night would come and with the war heating up I’m not surprised. But my sweet Sandra, no. No, no, no, no.”
Sandra was considerably taller than the troll, who squeezed both her arms tight.
Yvonne then released her and looked around. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”
She left the kitchen and when she returned, she had a stool in her hands. Setting it on the floor near Sandra, she waved her forward. “Help me up here.”
Sandra held the troll’s hand as she assisted her in climbing up on the stool, though Sandra had no idea why she wanted it in the middle of the kitchen and not even close to one of the cupboards.
But when she was standing on it and facing Sandra, she gestured for Sandra to come close.
In this position, Sandra actually met the troll’s gaze eye-to-eye. “What is it?”
“Sandra, you’ve been as dear to me as my own daughter, Eva. And I would do anything I could to keep this from happening to you. I’m so sorry. Now come here.”
When the housekeeper opened her arms, Sandra finally understood. She practically fell on the woman and had to work to keep the troll balanced on the stool. But when Yvonne was steady, she held Sandra close, wrapping her up in her short, troll arms, the hug exactly what Sandra needed.
Nothing had felt better to her in a long, long time.
Except being with Griffin.
But how was she to keep the bonding nightmare from happening?
When Yvonne released her, Sandra helped her get down from the stool, returning it herself to the nearest pantry. While there, she remained smelling the unique food-stuff redolence, a sort of combination of flours, dried beans, and cookies in canisters.
For some reason, the scent calmed her and she could think. Yvonne’s comforting embrace had helped as well to settle her mind.
Her thoughts turned to the war and to all the slaves who’d died in the fortress over the decades. She’d grieved for every death and each time promised herself that if she ever had the chance to make a difference she would take it, no matter the consequences.
An otherworld serenity came over Sandra, an acceptance that she might not survive the night. Somehow, that acceptance began to shape itself into a profound resolution to do whatever she had to do to assist Regan in leaving the Ancient Fae’s fortress, even if it meant stealing the guard’s key to the tower cell.
She closed her eyes and after bidding wisdom from the Goddess, she held her hands palms up and let her mind flow in ways it perhaps never had before.
