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We hold one another and let our grief run its course. A short time later, a maid arrives with tea.
There is comfort in doing ordinary things: stirring the pot, pouring the tea, and adding a little honey and milk.
“Is it true?” she asks. “About Aston and Lor?”
I nod. “They snatched me,” I say. My smile is small but filled with joy. “It was a bumpy start—I kicked Aston in the balls.”
She chuckles. “Goodness!”
“I didn’t know it was him… And then I went into heat.”
“You’re mated?” she asks.
“I am.” My smile fades. “Only I don’t know what will happen now.”
“You want to be with them,” she says. Not a question, for her face tells me she already knows.
“I do.” I nod enthusiastically, my hand shifting to my belly.
Her eyes follow the movement. “No? Already?!”
“Yes.” Then we were both crying all over again, this time with happy tears.
“Your papa would be so proud. He spoke of both men often in his letters. Saying what fine young men they were. He wouldn’t have picked them as his lieutenants otherwise.” She takes my hands in hers. “The captain explained that he received intel from Lor and Aston regarding Marshal’s family. He said the evidence was incomplete but enough for him to be tasked with an investigation on the king's behalf, which, through necessity, was done in secret. Aston and Lor knew you were in danger, and I believe that is why they snatched you as they did. And then you went into heat. Well, that tells me it was meant to be.”
My mates have been looking out for me all this time. Perhaps I should be chagrined by their highhanded ways and that I wasn’t consulted in this.
I don’t correct my mother’s presumptions about their virtue. My mates definitely sought to protect me and bring to justice those behind my father’s death.
I also believe they fully intended to mate me and get me with child.
I ask myself how I feel about that.
My answer? I wouldn’t change a thing, even though my future rests on a knife edge and on the ruling of my king.
ChapterSixteen
Lor
Five clans: Baxter, Ralston, Halket, Llyon, and even the Darouch have roused themselves at the news a mate has been taken. Then there are the Blackrock and Crescent Moon Packs, who have thrown down their support.
We make camp in the cover of the trees as those joining us travel from far and wide. By tomorrow, the last of them will arrive, and a veritable army will converge on the capital of Pershore.
I am in Alfred’s tent. On the table before us is a map of the city. Together with the leaders from those clans and packs present, we are going over the plans when the tent flap is suddenly thrust open, and a warrior thrusts his way in.
“The centaurs are here!”
“Centaurs?” Alfred raises his head from his study of the map. “What centaurs? What the fuck do those bastards want?”
“Lord Axton received news from the shifters,” the warrior says. “He has rallied his herd to our support. I suggested he pitch his camp to the south.”
“Do centaurs camp?” Alfred asks me, like I might have a fucking clue.
“No idea. But they have human parts. I assume they get cold.”
Another warrior suddenly bursts into the tent, barreling into the first who has yet to leave. “Sire, we have apprehended a spy out in the forest
“Unhand me, brute!” The voice, muffled by the tent wall between us, is ripe with outrage… and unmistakably feminine.
