by Ann Aguirre
Dr. Wyeth didn’t look pleased about testing on a live subject, but Thalia nodded when he silently asked permission. The nurse injected two different drugs, and the second one brought result.
“Hurry,” Dr. Wyeth said.
The nurse fumbled the injector module in her haste but eventually got the medicine into Raff’s body. By this point, Thalia felt like she was watching from above, distant from the blood spatter and the stained gauze, the tubing that piped Tavros’s life into Raff. His vitals were stabilizing, slowly, but they had to figure out what to do about the toxins. The medical staff started arguing amongst themselves, and she could hardly blame them.
“We don’t have time to develop a treatment plan, an antidote, or a cure,” she finally snapped.
Likely thinking she meant to let him die, Magda went for her throat, but Thalia dodged and acted as if the big cat hadn’t moved. “He’s taken enough from Tavros. Connect him to the IC machine now, dialysis mode. It won’t be quick, but it should clean up his blood. Animari natural resilience ought to do the rest.”
Dr. Wyeth stared at her. “That…is brilliant. You heard the queen. Move!”
Confident now that they were on familiar ground, the medical team worked efficiently as Thalia let herself lean against the wall, more weakness than she’d normally show. She’d almost lost her prospective mate before the marriage talks began. This had to be some kind of record.
“Sorry. I misunderstood.”
Glancing up, Thalia found Magda beside her, offering an unexpected apology. She shrugged. “It was a stressful situation.”
“But you saved him…and I’m the one who agreed to protect him. I should have stayed close.”
Thalia shook her head. “There’s no gain in debating who is to blame. I could argue that it’s all my fault for not guarding my lands better.”
Janek joined the conversation then. “Perhaps it’s because I’m old, but I’ve lost my patience for this sort of thing. The blame always rests with the one who did harm, not those who failed to prevent it.”
“Wise words,” Lileth said. “If only these young fools would heed them.”
Thalia laughed quietly over being called young. She had nearly three hundred years behind her, twice the average lifespan of the Animari. Which meant the youngest wolf was hardly more than a baby, yet he’d freely given his blood to save his lord. She had a lot to learn about these people.
The wolves were all clad in robes, and they must be cold, yet they didn’t budge a foot from Raff’s bedside. Skylett and Bibi seemed quietly anguished, casting anxious glances at Magda, as if the tiger woman could heal him through sheer force of will.
Maybe she can.
The infirmary was cold and uninviting, like the rest of Daruvar. Now that Raff was out of danger and the IC machine was working to tip the balance, the environment had to improve. With bare stone walls and blood stains on the floor, this looked like a place where people routinely died in agony.
She made a swift decision. “Get a portable heater in here and call for domestic staff. I need a meal for our guests and some chairs they can use to wait.”
Thalia understood that it would be pointless to try and shoo anyone out. It spoke volumes that Raff was loved so well by his pack. In passing, Thalia wondered who would mourn her so passionately. Gavriel, certainly, and Lileth…. But had she inspired such devotion in her people?
Perhaps not.
Therefore, since the wolves loved him too much to leave him alone, the infirmary must become a waiting room as well. In short order, her will was accomplished, and Bibi bowed deeply in gratitude over the food and hot, sweet tea. She joined them for the haphazard meal, eating only enough to keep the shakes from setting in.
A queen is calm and gracious, under all circumstances. Thalia had been reading and memorizing passages from that old etiquette book for as long as she could remember, and there was a truism for every event. She had been trying to meet the standards of that long-dead ancestor for most of her life.
Odd, it was only that adage that kept her from crying.
Raff woke with a pleasant hum in his head.
A few seconds later, the sound resolved as distinct from him, emitted from machinery attached to his body. His eyelids weighed several kilos each, but he lifted them with heroic effort, the room swimming into focus.
Six meters away, his people dozed against the backs of their chairs. Magda had curled up on the floor in tiger form, and nearest to him—how unexpected. Thalia had pulled a cot up beside his bed and lay curled on her side, facing him. It seemed to be the middle of the night.
Must’ve been out for a while.
His shoulder still hurt like hell, and the rest of his body didn’t feel much better. As he studied her sleeping face, her eyes flickered open, instantly alert. She slept like a soldier, he thought, and not one who watched battles from the wall. No, more like a seasoned veteran who recognized that danger often crept in during the night.
“You’re awake,” she said, smiling.
Thalia sat up and leaned forward, touching her fingers to his forehead.
She was probably checking for fever, but it felt more like a gesture of possession, as if she was about to etch some arcane sigil on his brow and his thoughts might never be his own again. Raff half-smiled at that fancy, relishing the cool feel of her skin against his. The Eldritch didn’t burn as hot as the Animari, and he wondered whether it was possible to warm her from head to toe.
Maybe he even wanted to try.
Those were probably the meds. Seemed like they had given him some good shit.
“What happened?”
It was an open-ended question, meant to let her say whatever she wished. He lacked the energy to ask more, but he didn’t need to. She summarized everything he’d missed succinctly, starting with the attack and ending with the treatment for beryllium poisoning.
Sounds like I owe Tavros and Thalia my life.
“Do you have any idea what House Manwaring’s true objective was? To kill me, kill you, stop the wedding…?” His voice sounded hoarse.
Before answering, she set a straw to his lips. He sipped and cool water trickled into his parched throat. Raff wouldn’t have guessed that the Eldritch princess would be such a capable attendant. At Ash Valley, she had seemed so much more imperious. Perhaps it meant something that he hadn’t been delegated, but he couldn’t fathom what.
“As yet, I’m not sure what they hoped to accomplish. Gavriel is in the field. If they’ve left other agents nearby, he will find them and extract more information.”
Extract. Such a clean, clinical word for the terrible things the Noxblade would do in her name. Raff sighed.
“You said this before, and you were right. We don’t have time to be proper about this, so let’s start these marital talks, Lady Silver.”
“Right now?” Thalia set the cup on his bedside table, eyes wide.
Objectively speaking, she was a fucking mess. Her platinum hair had long since escaped its precise confinement, and it frothed around her weary face in a fine, bright nimbus. Likewise, her clothes were wrinkled, and she had an imprint on one cheek, from resting it on the crook of her arm. A sensible man would back out of this arrangement, as the cost had already been prohibitive, but the benefits he’d noted before still applied, and he’d be damned if he allowed anyone to drive him from his chosen path.
Be they wolf or Eldritch, let the opposition burn and be damned.
“Right now,” he affirmed.
“We should have witnesses…and scribes to take down our terms.”
“Record what we say here and now, have it transcribed later. Is that good enough?”
Her gaze met his, for once uncertain. Somewhere in the long hours between midnight and dawn, she’d lost her queenly bearing. At this instant, Thalia was just a woman carrying more weight than it seemed her shoulders could hold. He remembered Gavriel’s words about how long she’d been fighting alone.
“Yes, very well.” She dug her
phone out of a hidden pocket and activated the audio log feature. “You set your requirements first, Lord Wolf. If I have anything to add afterward, I’ll say so.”
I’m really doing this.
This was so far from customary courtship rites that a pang went through him. None who had come before had ever weighed what a mate could give the pack against what needed to be given. Such businesslike acumen made a mockery of what should be all joy and tenderness. Those feelings might have built in time, but that was in short supply, and he had to choose.
“I don’t expect fidelity,” he said softly. “Since we are not marrying for love. I will expect you to attend all formal occasions at my side and to spend at least three months out of the year at Pine Ridge. I will need a portion of your soldiers assigned to our borders as a sign of good faith. In exchange, I’ll send you more drones to help you patrol your territories. We’ll also help you consolidate your hold on Eldritch lands in exchange for aid against Tycho’s forces later.”
“That’s fair.” Her voice was faint, eyes flat and steady. “I agree. I will require reciprocation on all points, including three months at Daruvar or wherever I am posted. Depending on how the war turns, we may live the rest of the year at our discretion, separately if the situation requires.”
Raff already felt like shit, and for some reason, all of that just made it worse. “Understood. But don’t hesitate to send word if I’m needed. Whether we’re together or not, you will be my wife.”
“I’m offering you the title of consort,” Thalia went on, as if he hadn’t spoken.
That pissed him off, too.
“I don’t even fucking want to be king of the Eldritch,” he muttered.
“That is another reason you’re a desirable choice. If I wed an Eldritch, I’d have to worry about their ambition my whole life long. At least with you, there should be some peace of mind.”
“I can’t say anyone’s ever claimed that about me before.”
“Color me unsurprised. One last question, then—do you expect an heir of me?”
He hadn’t thought that far ahead. How damn ridiculous. “I don’t really know how that works among the Eldritch. Animari women choose when they get pregnant, so—”
“That must be nice.” Her tone was wistful. “We rely on science for such matters. In all honesty, it’s not easy for Eldritch women to conceive due to our long lifespans. It’s best done while we’re young, as aging decreases the chances even more.”
There were probably technical explanations about declining sperm counts and decaying ovum, but Raff had no interest in any of that. If he wanted an heir, he could find someone in the pack to carry his genes forward, preferably a woman who didn’t care about his complicated marital status.
Fuck all of this and fuck Talfayen who ruined the conclave, and fuck Tycho Vega especially. I just wanted to drink and hunt and—
Thalia was staring at him like he’d stabbed her with his silence. He scrambled for the right words, a task made tougher by his addled mind and persistent pain.
“I don’t expect that, but if it happens, I’ll welcome our child and be the best father I can.”
“Then let’s move on to my final request. I’d like to frame this marriage like a contract with the terms put in writing and with an expiration date. Ten years should be more than long enough to accomplish what we need together. Oh, and if we finish sooner, there should be an option for early mutual dissolution. Either way, you’ll still be young enough to follow your heart, afterward.”
“What about you?” Raff asked.
Thalia only smiled, a bittersweet expression that didn’t lighten her eyes. “I’ve never been free to do that. Nor will I ever be.”
7.
Two days after the attack, Raff had rallied more than Thalia would’ve thought possible.
She’d seen some of that Animari resilience in the aftermath of the attack on Ash Valley, but it was still a relief. For the last forty-eight hours, she had coordinated the war effort from his bedside. Now that he was ambulatory, she could relax a bit.
“Message for you, Your Highness.” A young page cut into her reverie, offering a handheld with a deep bow.
The communication was already queued up, so she plugged in her headset and hit play. Ruark Gilbraith’s pale, narrow face appeared on screen. Thalia had never liked or trusted him; he tended to take credit for things he hadn’t achieved and eliminate rivals who might dispute those claims. Not quite a Tycho Vega, but the seeds were there, along with excess arrogance and avarice.
“Good day, Lady Talfayen.” That was a slight straightaway, tacit refusal to acknowledge her royal claim. “It has reached my ears that you are experiencing some difficulty uniting the other houses. By now, House Manwaring will have declared against you. I will give you one opportunity to make good the promise your father made to mine.”
She set her jaw, glaring at the message unit. I’ll marry you when all the seas freeze, and I can walk across them.
“If you choose to break our old bonds of allyship, I will take it…poorly. Manwaring will come to me, and I’ve already sent enticements to House Vesavis. I doubt your little resistance can stand against the collective might of all three houses. I will give you one day to decide, so choose wisely, lest you drive your own people to extinction through delusions of grandeur. You are no queen, but you could be my consort. Think well.”
A cold shudder crawled down her spine, and she controlled the urge to fling the comm pad against the far wall. For long moments, she controlled her breathing along with the fury racing like wildfire in her veins. Sometimes she wanted to scream until her throat ached, until she couldn’t breathe for the uncontained fervor.
“Bad news?” Raff asked quietly.
She hadn’t realized he was awake. This morning, he looked much better, good color in his cheeks, eyes bright as chips of golden agate framed by truly disarming dark lashes. His skin was burnished brown against the pale gauze wrapping his shoulder. His restless hands tapped endlessly against the white sheets, as if he were searching for something. With a whimsy quite unlike her, Thalia wondered what that might be.
“More of a nuisance.” She hesitated. Ordinarily, she would delete the message and share the worry with no one, but for the duration of their marital contract, her enemies would become his, so he should be fully informed. “See for yourself.”
At the end of the playback, Raff tossed the unit onto the foot of his bed. “What an ass. Should I kill him?”
That casual tone almost made her laugh, but the wolf lord’s expression suggested that he might not be joking. “Are you serious?”
“He’s threatening you. I have a zero-tolerance policy for aggression against my own.”
“Am I, though?”
“What?”
“Your own.”
“We’ve come to terms. Unless you change your mind, yes. That means if you say the word, he’s done.”
Thalia tried not to show the ripple of pleasure she felt at that simple statement. “You make yourself sound like a sword in my hand. I aim, you strike.”
“That’s not a bad description, Lady Silver. Your grasp of the big picture is likely better than mine. My old man called me a hotheaded fool more than once, and…” Here, his words trailed off, his eyes going distant.
“And?” she prompted, curious what might make him look so.
“I only lead Pine Ridge because my older brother died young.”
“I thought rulership wasn’t dynastic among your people.”
Raff shrugged. “We say it’s not, but it takes some damn serious incompetence to get passed over, once a family takes power.”
“We always strive to keep what we hold. This is true among my people, too.”
“Then maybe you know how much it sucks having a legacy to live up to.”
Thalia considered. “Not as such. I’d already destroyed all my father’s hopes for me, long before he turned traitor.”
“Can’t have been easy.” Such a g
entle tone, as if he cared.
She couldn’t let herself get pulled into his charm. From what she’d seen at Ash Valley, Raff offered that same warmth indiscriminately. To him, women were like a field of wildflowers waiting for the sun. It would be a severe tactical error to mistake his charisma for personal interest.
Time to change the subject.
“While you were sleeping, the clerk brought the transcription of our conditions. Would you like to look them over?”
“I trust you,” he said at once.
That…was odd. He didn’t even want to glance at the documents? Mentally, Thalia shrugged.
“Then we just need to sign and get ready for the ceremony. Under the circumstances, it seems best to hold a simple wedding and then get down to business.”
Raff smiled. “The business of crushing your enemies?”
“I wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but…yes.” Even to her own ears, she sounded prim. “If the doctor allows it, I think you can leave the infirmary this afternoon. You must have preparations to make.”
“I do feel like I’m growing moss,” he admitted with a roguish grin. “But…not sure what you mean by preparations?”
“There’s no one you want to invite from Pine Ridge?”
“I wish Korin could be here, but she shouldn’t leave the hold while I’m away, unless it’s an absolute emergency.”
“Korin is your second. Is she…special to you?” Thalia couldn’t believe she’d asked the question. It just sort of popped out.
How humiliating.
Raff cocked his head, all wolfish curiosity. “What does that mean?”
“Never mind.”
“Korin’s my second. I’m not sure how else to explain who she is to me, so I’ll say this. When I was a pup, my father dragged her in and said, ‘this girl will save your ass someday, boy. She’s as clever as you are stupid, so keep her close.’”
That information was both blunt and startling. She hadn’t much liked her own father, but even so, he had never denigrated her. Well. Not until she stood against him. After that, they stopped talking entirely and he had her confined to Riverwind under heavy guard ‘until she saw reason’. She had heard of the things he said about her, however.