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“I am to be taken captive by hunters, and yet there is nothing I can do to guarantee my safe return. I feel trapped and helpless awaiting my fate with no productive outlet.”
“Like a mouse in a trap.” He nodded understandingly. “But I don’t think you’re looking at it the right way.”
“What do you mean?”
“You aren’t trapped. Fuck what the council are doing. The Fafnir thing for us is personal. The hunters are a serious threat to you. We aren’t going to lie down and think of England. We are fucking powerful bastards. Weapons. We’re a catapult. We’re waiting for the moment the string is cut and we are thrown over the gates to cause serious destruction. We are the bad thing about to happen to them. So, you’ll train—we’ll all train—so that when the time comes, we know what we are capable of. Knowing your strength is half the battle.”
Train? Train what? How to heal? How to dreamwalk? My power is neither defensive nor attacking.The only way I would get an attack power is if Baelen and I consummated our bond and I could use his power over blood threads.
But I couldn’t lay all my thoughts at Charlie’s feet. Instead, I asked, “How much of that have you drunk?”
“Why? Was I slurring?” He frowned. “I thought that was a great pep talk.”
I laughed. “It was. Thank you, Charlie. I’ll try not to remember our strength.”
“Our strength.”
I paused before saying, “This conversation doesn’t get back to Clawdia. I don’t want her to worry about me.”
Charlie’s brows pulled together. “Are you sure? You’re already in the doghouse for not mentioning that Baelen might be in trouble.”
“It’s another thing she can’t do anything to fix. Worrying is useless, and she’s already had such a terrible time the past few weeks.”
He shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”
“This has been the best night ever!” Clawdia exclaimed as she stumbled toward us and threw her arms around my neck.
I brushed her hair back from her face, and she nuzzled into my hand. Her eyes were unfocused, and her makeup, faded, but her smile was so big and bright it made my heart lurch. “I think it’s time we get you back to the cabin,” I told her.
Charlie stared at her, assessing her state too. “Water. Lots of water.”
She pouted. “I don’t want to leave yet.”
“The party is over, Clawdia,” Charlie lied.
But Clawdia was so drunk she didn’t notice. “No. Come on. Please. I want to stay. It’s still a party if we stay.”
“I didn’t want to do this, but you leave us no choice.” Charlie sighed. “Zaide, get her.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not your servant to be bossed around.” But I picked her up and cradled her anyway as Charlie pushed through the crowd, making way for us as we walked back to our cabin. Clawdia’s eyes closed the moment her head rested on my shoulder, and I chuckled.She is going to have such a sore head in the morning.
“Like you’re not loving the excuse to have her all over you,” Charlie chuckled.
“Jealous?” I smirked as I walked past Charlie, who held the door open to our cabin.
Clawdia groaned and tried to roll out of my hands. “I don’t … feel well.”
“Oh, God,” Charlie said, and I hurried to the bathroom.
I placed her on the edge of the bath, and she swayed. “What’s wrong with me? Why is everything spinning so much?”
“Who let her drink this much?” I mumbled.
She bolted, her eyes suddenly wide as she pushed me out of the way and lunged for the toilet. The room was quickly filled with the sound of retching and the vile smell of vomit.
Charlie cringed as her body heaved. “She was having a good time.”
I shook my head. Pulling her hair back with one hand and rubbing soothing circles on her back with the other, I said, “It’s all fun and games until the sausage rolls are regurgitated.” Her heaves turned to sobs. “There, there, Little Cat. You’ll feel better once it’s all up.”
