Slowly, I turn.
“I expect you at dinner,” he says, using his Dad voice.
“Yes, of course.”
And like mice fleeing from a sinking ship, the three traitors I call teammates attempt to make a hasty exit.
“Wait,” Dad says, his tone commanding. “I expect you all at dinner. Is that understood?”
Jonathan and Eric exchange a look, but Gray nods. “We’d be honored, sir.”
5
As if this day couldn’t get any better, who should I run into on our way out of the guild but my dear friend Maisy.
Finn’s fiancée’s eyes widen when she sees me, and she glances to the left and then right, so eager to escape she looks like a cartoon chipmunk. But she’s not a chipmunk; she’s an Owl—a gifted alchemist. She’s also the legitimate daughter of an upstanding lord and the perfect wife material for our future grand duke.
When she realizes she can’t escape, she pastes a bright, fake smile on her face and nervously shoves a strand of shiny auburn hair behind her ear. “Madeline!”
“Maisy,” I deadpan.
“It’s so good to see you…” She steps forward like she’s going to hug me. When she realizes I’m not meeting her, she falters for a second and then drops her arms, trying to act casual. “This must be your team!”
Her eyes flutter over the men and then widen.
That’s right, Maisy. I work with three wicked-hot knight marshals. Don’t feel too bad for me, sweet pea.
“Hello, Gray,” she says when she finally turns to our team leader.
I glance between them, wondering how exactly they know each other. As if reading my mind, Gray quietly says to me, “Family dinners.”
Oh, that makes sense. Except Finn never invited me to a family dinner. Sure, we’ve eaten together hundreds of times, but it was always at my house or just the two of us. Guess that shows how much I meant to him.
The thought makes me feel about a hundred times worse. All I want to do is go home, take a two-hour long bath, and sleep until next week. Two out of three of those things are possible.
“So…” she says, wringing her hands. “How have you been?”
“You mean other than being part of a job that led to humans discovering shadow creature remains and a wildfire that’s sweeping Western Colorado? I’m fine.”
Her smiles freezes on her face, and so help me…I feel bad. For Maisy.
What is up with that?
I relax marginally, mostly because I’m completely worn-out and this aloof thing takes a lot of effort. “I’m good, Maisy. Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Oh.” She blinks several times, looking acutely uncomfortable. “Thank you.”
“I’m sure you’re busy with wedding preparations—spring will sneak up before you know it,” I say, fighting for an ounce of civility. I can be the bigger person. I can. And even if I can’t, I went to finishing school just so I could learn how to fake it. “We won’t keep you.”
I begin to walk past her, but then she goes and blurts out, “December.”
And I come to an abrupt stop. If I were a car, I’d leave tire marks on the road. “You’ve moved the wedding to December?”
She purses her lips and nods.
“As in less than eight weeks away?”
“Six,” she whispers. “We’ve moved it up a bit.”
From late May to mid-December—I’ll say they moved it up.
“But…you just sent out the invitations. For May.”
“I know.” Her smile flutters with nerves. “But it’ll be fine. I’ll send out corrections at the end of the week.”
“Right.”
I feel a little panicky. I guess the evil queen part of me was hoping she and Finn would have a big fight and call off the whole thing, and justice would be served. Sort of. But six weeks? That doesn’t leave a lot of time. I mean, I have full confidence Finn will do something to muck it up, but the clock is ticking.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” I say as I’m questioning her sanity. Finn might as well be a prince. Their wedding is expected to be monumental.
“Though there is the duke’s heart attack to think about as well.” Maisy presses a hand to her forehead and blinks continually, fighting honest-to-goodness tears.
“What heart attack?” Gray interrupts.
She looks at him, blue eyes swimming. “You didn’t hear? Several nights ago, after…” She blanches, looking between us like she wishes she’d thought about her words more carefully. She swallows and begins again. “His Grace received some news, and he began having chest pains. One of his nurses found him on the floor. He’s currently in one of our hospitals in Denver, but they don’t expect him to hold out much longer. He has hours…maybe days. There’s nothing the healers can do for him at this point.”
Oh my sweet tea. We’re the news. My shadow minions killed the Grand Duke.
As I hyperventilate, several tears roll down Maisy’s cheek. The men shift beside me, ready to dart. They can take down a troll, but a crying woman they barely know? Nope, not happening.
Maisy dabs at her eyes, trying to laugh it off. “It’s just a lot.”
“I’m sure it will work out,” I hedge, feeling…stuff. Stuff I don’t want to feel.
But Maisy’s been my friend since, well…I can’t remember a time when Maisy wasn’t my friend. Our parents are close, and we’ve always gone to the same schools. We’ve even been on vacation together.
That’s why it hurt so much when I found out she’d been sneaking around with Finn.
“We’re leaving for Denver now,” she says, glancing toward the closed meeting doors. “Just as soon as Finn is finished.”
I nod numbly. Not only did my minions cause the duke’s heart attack, but what if our mandatory meeting keeps Finn from saying goodbye? All kinds of guilt swirls around in my stomach.
“No one told me,” Gray breathes.
I turn to him, realizing the duke is his uncle as well. “Gray…”
He rubs a palm over his forehead, looking stricken. When he drops his hand, he asks Maisy, “May I catch a ride to Denver with you?”
She looks surprised but nods quickly. “Of course. You’re welcome to ride with us.”
I look away, feeling like I’m left out of something I was never truly a part of.
Gray turns to Eric and Jonathan. “You two are on Madeline duty.”
They nod, but Maisy looks perplexed. “Madeline duty?”
“She’s acquired a pixie stalker,” Eric explains.
Maisy’s mouth falls open, and then her face twists with indignant anger—and it appears to be on my behalf. “What was Finn thinking putting you in this apprenticeship! Madeline, I am so sorr—”
“It’s fine.” I force a smile. “I’m fine.”
And let’s be honest. What’s Gray more concerned about? Trent finding me…or me going rogue?
Maisy steps forward, her eyes almost pleading with me. “Maybe when I get back, we could get coffee? Talk?”
My first impulse is to press my palm to her forehead and push her away. But do I do that? No, I do not. However, she must be able to tell that I want to because the darn Owl purses her lips, grasps hold of my arm, and pulls me to the side.
“I’ve been an awful friend,” she whispers. “And the only reason I haven’t come crawling back sooner is because I hate myself for how I handled this. I should have been honest with you in the beginning, and Madeline, I am so, so sorry.”
I look away, not ready for this on top of everything else.
“Please, Mads. I miss you.” Her eyes get misty again, and her pretty face crumples. “So much.”
For the love of—
“Fine. We’ll get coffee,” I say in a huff.
She nods like a Bobblehead doll. “Yes? Oh, that’s wonderful—”
I point a finger at her. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I have not forgiven you yet.”
“Yet?” she parrots, her face lighting with hope.
/> Growling, I shoo her away. “Go. Get to Denver. Take care of Finn.”
Giving me a great big watery smile, she pulls me into a hug. I stand here, arms at my side, staring at the ceiling. It needs repainted.
I don’t wait for Maisy to disappear into the meeting room to leave. I turn as soon as she lets me go, feeling a pesky seed of warmth in my chest. I want to squash it, smother it, light it on fire…but it’s persistent, and as much as I loathe it…it feels kind of good.
Gray tugs me back before I make it even five steps, and before I realize what he’s doing, I’m wrapped in his arms, pressed against his very fine chest.
“Aw, princess,” he says into my hair. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I mumble against his thin, soft, yummy-smelling T-shirt.
“That I doubted you.”
Slowly, I angle my head up, frowning as I meet his eyes.
A slow, crooked grin spreads across his face. “You’re far too soft to be evil queen material.”
Even though Maisy was quiet, of course he heard our conversation.
“I’m a doormat.”
“You have a sweet heart,” he says, giving me an extra squeeze.
“That was probably the sappiest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”
He laughs and lets me go. I step away and find Eric grinning at us like the big puppy he is. “Are you guys good now?”
“We’re good,” Gray confirms. “Though when I get back, we will need to have a chat with Maddie about her choice of pets. The gremlin cat is bad enough. I am not a fan of these new strays she’s adopted.”
Eric grins, and I laugh a little even though his flippant reference to the shadow creatures makes me uneasy. I’d rather not talk about them at all.
Instead of joining us, Jonathan studies an ancient tapestry depicting a great winged dragon standing on top of a mountain and surveying its kingdom. It’s a Draconem piece, the line of royalty. Seems to me, a little gray fox in the dragon’s place wouldn’t look quite as majestic.
Jonathan glances over. “Are you ready to go, Madeline?”
Did it bother him that I was just so close to Gray? He seems all right, but maybe it affected him just a little? Is that why he broke away from the group?
Or is that me indulging in wishful thinking again?
“I’m ready,” I tell him. “Rafe will be wondering what’s taking so long.”
We say our goodbyes to Gray, and then Eric, Jonathan, and I walk to the Hummer.
“So what’s with this mandatory dinner tonight, Maddie?” Eric asks.
“Maybe my parents want to meet the team?” I say hopefully, already nervous. But my father and mother are the type of people who enjoy entertaining, especially my friends. Maisy was a common fixture at our table, and once Finn took the position as head of Magical Law and Enforcement it wasn’t uncommon for him to join us two or even three times a week.
But there was something ominous about this request. It was less an invitation and more a decree.
“I don’t think so.” Jonathan pulls onto the main road. “He didn’t buy our story.”
Eric makes a thoughtful noise. “We told the truth…more or less.”
“I think the problem is the truth we omitted,” I say softly. I don’t like the idea of lying to my parents. What am I going to do if they straight-up call us on our bluff?
If they learn what I really am…I could lose my family. I could lose my life.
Jonathan glances back and gives me an easy smile, his signature look. It’s nothing like the knowing, far more intimate looks I received when we were pretending to be married in Redstone. “It’s going to be all right. I promise.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask.
“Are you serious?” he says with a grin as he gestures to Eric. “We’re crazy charming. Parents love us.”
“Hmmm,” I hum, laughing under my breath. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“And what about Rafe? You know he’ll come.”
Jonathan makes an exaggerated grimace. “We’ll just have to tell him not to talk.”
6
We arrive at Eric and Jonathan’s condo at just after three. We’ve been here the last several days, dreading the meeting with the guild. I’ve only been here one other time, the night before we left for Redstone.
It seems like forever ago. Even though the team was only at the mansion for a long weekend, so much has changed. Unable to help myself, I glance at Jonathan.
It’s not like we were dating, I remind myself. We only shared a couple days—yes, they were a couple amazing days. But it’s too soon to whisper love, even to myself.
With time, we could have been something, though. Something brilliant. But Jonathan is also the least able to protect himself against the darkness that likes to plague me. The man’s a Griffon.
Yes, but a Griffon with a gun, a not-so-helpful inner voice reminds me.
Wrestling with indecision, I follow Eric and Jonathan through the glass doors and into the elevator.
Avon is a ski town but not quite as ridiculous as Aspen or Vail. We’re surrounded by mountains, get heaps of snow every winter, and don’t usually top eighty-five degrees in the summer months. It’s an alpine paradise in a pristine valley, and because the real estate is limited—and many people only flock here during the snowy months—condominiums are popular.
Jonathan and Eric live in an older one that’s been well taken care of. It’s not as ritzy as the newer buildings, but it’s still nice.
Gray insisted we stay together for the time being, probably because he doesn’t want me taking off on my own and summoning monsters in the dead of night—after all, you must be careful like that when you’re harboring an evil queen.
Jonathan graciously gave me his room and has been sleeping on a cot in the living room. If you think sleeping in his bed is helping with my turmoil, you would be wrong. The high thread count sheets are exquisitely soft, and they smell like his laundry detergent. Every night, I imagine him there, his head on the pillow next to mine, and it’s driving me mad. Considering the guilt I’m harboring over Redstone as well, I think it’s no surprise it’s been impossible to sleep.
Rafe’s on the couch when we walk in the door, working on his laptop. Behind him is a wall of windows that lets in all kinds of light. There’s a large gas fireplace too—a massive stone focal point—almost a prerequisite in a ski town condo. Charles lounges on a blanket on the hearth. He stretches when we come inside, letting out a welcoming mew when he sees Eric. Now that the cat has had a “sleepover” with the Bunny, I doubt the ornery feline will want to go home. As much as I like Eric, eventually, it would be nice to get my cat back.
I roll my eyes at the thought.
After I change out of my meeting attire and into jeans and a sweater, I take a seat next to Rafe.
“How did it go?” my knight asks.
“All right, I suppose. Brad’s a bit angry,” I say absently, not wanting to talk about it.
“He’ll get over it.” Rafe glances at me and then looks back at his screen. “Look at how many Hummers Jonathan has gone through, and he’s moved on.”
Jonathan grunts from the open kitchen, very much still sore about all the vehicles he’s had trashed while on the job.
“Oh, here.” Rafe hands me a pink box.
I stare at it, surprised, and then look back at him. “You bought me a phone?”
“You need a replacement. The man at the store was able to transfer your data from the cloud.”
“How did you manage that? That’s confidential—” I begin, and then I stop abruptly.
He raises a single brow, waiting for it to click. Oh…right. Fox. He just persuaded the sales associate to help him.
“Thank you,” I say, opening the lid. Not only did he buy me a phone, but it’s rose gold—very feminine and pretty much perfect. I smile when I think of Rafe requesting it in the store. He’s more of a silver or black kind of guy.
Rafe closes his laptop. “I thought they were in New Zealand.”
“Apparently they’re home.”
He nods slowly. Like me, he’s probably wondering if their trip was called short because of what I shall now refer to as The Incident.
“What are you doing?” I ask, motioning to the laptop.
He eyes me, and I can feel his indecision—which is freaky as all get-out.
Finally, he answers, “I’m researching clipeum medallions.”
“Then why do you look like a kid with his hand caught in a candy jar?”
He turns his dark blue eyes on me. They’re narrowed with wry amusement, and for a moment, I remember what he was like before he became my knight—when we first met at that casino in Tahoe. There was something dangerous about him, something that screamed Fox. Something a bit forbidden.
In the last few months, he’s become such a stoic protector, it’s easy to forget that Rafe is a rogue at heart. But something about the way he’s looking at me now—the angle of his dark brows, the crook of his lips—triggers the memory of that first night when he saved me from a mobster Fox, stole my phone, and started calling me Lexie. (Don’t ask.)
Rafe is handsome, but not like Gray, who’s the Hollywood superhero, let-me-take-off-my-shirt-and-wow-you-with-my-sculpted-physique, man’s man type. Nor is he as put-together and exotically attractive as Jonathan or as boy-next-door-who-grew-up-to-be-a-drool-worthy-Viking as Eric. He’s tall and strong, yes, but with sharper angles, moody eyes, and a cool shade of skin that contrasts with his dark hair. And there is something dangerous about him still, something impulsive, perhaps even irresponsible.
It makes me wonder how different a dynamic we might have if the title Obsidian weren’t hanging over our heads.
My knight leans a smidgen closer, acting like he doesn’t want Jonathan or Eric to overhear what he’s about to say. While doing so, the scent of his aftershave drifts over me. It’s different than the cologne Jonathan wears, less spice and crisper high notes. It makes me think of mountain air, cold streams, and nights under the stars—not that I’ve personally spent a night under the stars, mind you. I have not, and I have no desire to try it. Because of bugs. And bears. And despite the irony considering my magic, I’m still more of a night light kind of girl.
Knights of Obsidian Page 4