by Chris Cannon
A low growl vibrated through Zavien’s chest before he pulled away.
“How’d you find me?” she asked.
“Medic Williams brought me to your room.”
She led him toward the sitting area and curled up next to him on the couch. “No. How’d you know I was at my grandfather’s estate?”
“I’ve checked for your whereabouts almost every night since I gave you the pen. When you didn’t return to school, I was worried.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “What happened here tonight? Why did Alec attack you?”
His fingernails grazed her scalp, and she cuddled closer. “It started with the explosion in the library.”
His body stiffened. “What explosion?”
She gave him a recap of the fabulous, fun time she’d had since landing on her grandparents’ doorstep.
“I don’t understand why Alec went after you.”
“He said he wanted to get back at my grandfather for something the Directorate did to him. Do you know anything about that?”
“I know his marriage petition was denied. He was offered another choice, which he refused. I’m not sure what happened to the girl he loved.”
“Maybe that was it.” Bryn sighed. “Whatever the reason, he wanted to make me a martyr for the Revisionists.”
“That son of a bitch.” Zavien placed his hand under her chin and held her gaze. “You know I had nothing to do with that. I would never let anyone hurt you.”
“I know.” She gave a halfhearted smile. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Zavien kissed her forehead. “I heard your grandfather say he was proud of you.”
“Better late than never. Right? The downside is now he thinks I should be allowed to marry. He wants the Sinclair line to continue.”
Zavien’s eyebrows drew together. “I want you to be happy.”
“You make me happy. I don’t want to worry about the future.” She grimaced. “Lillith and my grandmother have this crazy idea that Jaxon and I should marry.”
Zavien clamped his lips together like he was trying not to laugh.
“Go ahead.”
He laughed and then shook his head. ”You’d kill each other.”
“I’m aware of that fact.” She played with his hair. “My grandfather has a nickname for you.”
“He does?”
“He calls you a spiky-haired malcontent.”
“That would be a great name for a band.” The smile left his face. “What’s this?” He tugged on her necklace.
“Merrick gave it to me when yours was squished.”
“Plotting bastard,” he muttered. “Where’s mine?”
This was the second person to imply Merrick’s intentions weren’t honorable. She retrieved her original necklace and handed it to Zavien.
“It kept a piece of the door from slicing open my carotid artery.”
He studied the bent locket. “It certainly did. What about the key?”
“It doesn’t bother me to be separated from it. I must have drained the protection charm.”
Zavien produced a small bolt of lightning in his palm. He directed it at the edge of the locket, and it popped open.
“Impressive.”
He took out the key and handed it to her. Then he continued to zap the locket until the metal was soft enough to bend back into place. After he returned the key to its resting place, he reached over and unhooked her necklace. He pulled Merrick’s dragon charm off, tossed it over his shoulder, and put his locket back on.
“That’s much better.”
She snuggled against him. All was right in her world. Except her grandmother and Lillith were scheming to marry her off to Jaxon and the Fall Dance was next weekend, and she didn’t have a date.
Maybe she could solve one of those problems if she played her cards right. The other would have to wait.
“I’ve been thinking about the Fall Dance.”
Zavien’s muscles tensed.
“I understand if you aren’t comfortable taking me, but I want to go. Maybe I’ll call Valmont and ask him to escort me.”
A low growl sounded from his throat. “You’re trying to manipulate me.”
It took effort to keep an innocent expression on her face. “I have that pretty copper dress.”
He cursed and then kissed her.
She took that as a good sign.
When he came up for air, he said, “We’ll go to the dance with Clint and Ivy.”
Woo hoo!
Insistent knocking on the bedroom door interrupted her moment of joy. Muttering obscenities, she stalked to the door.
Merrick stood in the hall. “Can I assume Zavien is with you?”
“He is.”
“Good. Your grandfather thought he might try to leave before the trial.”
Goose bumps pebbled her arms. “What trial?”
“Tomorrow morning, Zavien will stand trial for Alec’s death.”
Chapter Thirty
“Zavien Blackthorn, how do you plead?”
It was nothing like the trials Bryn had witnessed on television. The Directorate members sat at a long, raised mahogany table, presiding over the court like gods. Where was the jury? Why didn’t Zavien have a lawyer?
While she was on the edge of her seat, literally, everyone else sat back, comfortable with the fact that the Directorate ruled with absolute authority. If they convicted Zavien of murder, there would be no appeal.
And she’d fry the entire lot of them where they sat.
Zavien stood before them, his face calm. “I did what was necessary for the greater good. Alec was attacking Jaxon and Lillith Westgate. He had to be stopped.”
“I don’t understand.” Ferrin feigned ignorance. “Alec was a member of the Revisionists. Isn’t that the group you recruit for on campus?”
Flames erupted in Bryn’s chest. The ungrateful bastard was trying to set Zavien up.
“Alec was one of our more radical members. I didn’t agree with his methods. It’s true that I recruit students to petition the Directorate for more individual rights, but I don’t condone violence. The Revisionists hope to promote change in a peaceful manner.”
Ferrin picked a speck of lint off his sleeve. “You’re saying Alec acted on his own. He wasn’t working in collusion with you or the other Revisionists members?”
“No. He wasn’t.” Fists clenched, Zavien stepped forward. “The fact that your wife and son are still alive should be proof of where my loyalties lie.”
The Directorate members muttered among themselves. Ferrin tilted his head and listened. “We’ve heard your testimony and come to the conclusion you acted appropriately given the circumstances. Please leave the chambers. We’ve further matters to discuss.”
Zavien stalked from the room without a glance in her direction. Would he be allowed to wait somewhere on her grandfather’s estate, or would he be escorted from the property? Could she sneak out after him without drawing attention to herself? Not likely. They’d parted company late last night, and she hadn’t been allowed to speak with him since.
“Bryn McKenna, please stand and approach the Directorate.”
What was this about? She looked to her grandmother for an explanation, but the woman maintained her usual stoic expression.
Taking a deep breath, she stood and walked to the front of the room. Moving toward Ferrin went against her instinct for survival.
“State your full name,” he said in a bored tone.
She fantasized about flipping him off. Instead, she spoke in a calm voice. “Bryn Marie McKenna.”
“Do you claim to be the legal descendant of the Sinclair line?”
“My mother is Sara Sinclair. Is that what you’re asking?” She watched with perverse joy as a muscle in Ferrin’s jaw twitched. The jerk was still angry over her mother running away to marry someone else nineteen years ago.
“Are you the descendant of Ephram and Marie Sinclair?” Ferrin asked.
She turned to her grandmother. �
�I didn’t know I was named after you.”
Her grandmother’s chin jutted out.
“Miss McKenna, we are in the middle of a proceeding.” Ferrin smacked his palm on the table. “Stick to answering the questions.”
“What’s this about? Am I on trial?”
“Unfortunately, no. We are in the process of legally recognizing you as the granddaughter of Ephram and Marie Sinclair. If you’d answer the questions, we could proceed.”
What did legal recognition mean?
“Answer the question, Miss McKenna.” Ferrin’s composure seemed to be slipping.
She couldn’t resist prodding him to see what would happen. “Wait. What question are you talking about?”
Ferrin clenched his teeth. “Are you the granddaughter of—”
“Yes,” she interrupted.
“Never interrupt the Speaker of the Directorate,” Ferrin bellowed, leaning over the table.
His anger washed over her like a tidal wave. “A list of rules might be helpful.”
“That’s it.” He pounded his fist on the table. “You’re officially recognized. Get out of my sight.”
Bryn scooted from the room and found Zavien waiting in the hall. She threw her arms around his neck. He wound his arms around her waist. Pulling her close, he brushed his lips across hers.
“Are we celebrating my freedom, or did you miss me this much?”
His breath feathered across her ear, sending a shiver down her spine and making it hard to think. “We’re celebrating your freedom and my official status as the granddaughter of Ephram and Marie Sinclair.”
One corner of his mouth turned up in the lopsided grin she loved. “I bet Ferrin choked on those words.”
“I believe they caused him great pain.”
The door from the meeting room swung open. Bryn and Zavien stepped apart as Jaxon, Lillith, and her grandmother joined them in the hall.
Merrick emerged behind them. “We’re taking a short recess, but the Directorate meeting will go on for a few more hours. Bryn, your grandmother wants to serve brunch, and then I’ll take you back to the Institute.”
“I’ve asked Abigail to set a table in the atrium.” Her grandmother set off down the hall at a quick pace. Lillith hurried to catch up with the older woman.
Bryn would rather return to school and spend time with Zavien and her friends, but arguing with her grandmother was a lost cause, so she followed along behind the two women, straining to hear what they discussed.
“Afraid they’re plotting to marry you off to Jaxon?” Zavien asked.
“That’s not funny.”
She spoke to Jaxon, who walked a few paces behind them. “Why don’t you talk to your mother?”
“What would you like me to say?”
“I don’t know. Tell her how much you care about your girlfriend.”
Jaxon snorted. “I’m not in the habit of lying to my mother.”
His comment brought her to a dead halt. “What does that mean?”
“I respect Rhianna.” He loosened his tie. “According to the Directorate, we have compatible lineage, and she was my father’s choice. It’s premature to say I care a great deal when I’ve just started spending time with her.”
Weird. “I thought you grew up together.”
“Walk and talk.” Zavien grabbed her elbow and pulled her along. “Your grandmother walks fast for an old woman.”
As they walked down the hall, a light several hundred yards away became brighter. The back wall was constructed entirely of glass. Potted plants lined the floor, leaving a narrow path for walking.
Her grandmother stood in an open area surrounded by blooming plants. The sweet fragrance of different flowers mingled in the air, creating an exotic perfume. White, wrought iron tables dotted the indoor courtyard. One of the tables was set with fine china. Napkins folded into swans sat on top of the plates.
She realized her grandmother was waiting for a response. “This is beautiful.”
“Thank you. Everyone please have a seat.”
Bryn sat and accepted the cup of coffee Zavien offered.
Abigail served plates of French toast with caramelized bananas. The luscious cinnamon, banana, and maple syrup smell made her mouth water. Before anyone could ask a question, she took a bite of French toast and savored the sweet cinnamon caramel combination.
“Bryn, how do you plan to comport yourself when you return to school?” Lillith asked.
So much for eating in peace. And what did comport mean? Not wanting Jaxon to realize she didn’t know the meaning of the word, she guessed. “If Jaxon annoys me, I’ll shoot fireballs at his head.”
Zavien chuckled.
Jaxon rolled his eyes. “I’ll avoid her. She’ll avoid me.”
“People will expect you to behave the way you always have,” her grandmother said.
Bryn sipped her coffee and considered the situation. “It’s not unreasonable to believe we’d return to school on better terms. Jaxon came here to prove he wasn’t behind the poisoning.”
Jaxon’s eyes narrowed. “I also did it to help you.”
“I saved your life. Don’t get snippy with me.”
His coffee cup hit the table with a smack. “I came to secure protection for your life. Might I add that my father was less than pleased with my choice?”
“Fine. The fact that you stood up to evil incarnate cancels out what I did for you.”
“My father is not evil.” Jaxon spoke through clenched teeth.
Unaffected by his temper, Bryn sat back and crossed her arms. “Well, he’s not warm and fuzzy.”
Frost shot from Jaxon’s nose as anger made him lose control. He glared at Bryn, unable to speak without shooting frozen flames.
“Temper, temper,” she teased.
He growled, rattling the plates on the table.
Lillith patted her son’s arm. “Calm down. You’ve both helped each other. When you return to school, your relationship should be less inflammatory. You two should learn to coexist. You never know what the future might bring.”
“When you return to school, try cold civility,” her grandmother said. “Some people live their entire lives that way. It’s manageable.”
It was also sad, discouraging, and pathetic.
Zavien cleared his throat. “I won’t be riding back with you. I need to fly back to school and see to the campers. We’re supposed to pack up at noon.”
Crap.
After Zavien excused himself, Lillith reached down beside her chair and picked up two shopping bags. She handed one to Jaxon and one to Bryn. “I took the liberty of replacing your book bags since they were damaged in the explosion.”
Bryn pushed away the memory of searing heat and flying debris raining down on her. She reached into the bag and pulled out a midnight-blue leather satchel. It felt like silk. She inhaled the new leather scent and ran her fingers over the silver stitching. It was beautiful.
“Thank you. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Try looking over here.” Jaxon did not sound pleased.
His satchel was the mirror image of hers except the stitching was black.
“Don’t you like it?” she asked.
“It’s an exceptional bag. However, it is one of a matched set.” He pointed at her new bag.
Bryn laughed in spite of the situation. “Lillith, did you buy us matching his and hers bags?”
“I found yours first, and I loved it. When I saw the matching bag with the masculine stitching, I had to buy it.”
Bryn hugged the bag to her chest. “I’m keeping mine. Do what you want with yours.”
“Thank you for the thoughtful gift, Mother.” Jaxon’s words dripped sarcasm.
“You’re welcome.” Lillith grinned. “I love giving people gifts. I’ve already started my Christmas shopping.”
“Speaking of the holidays, Bryn, I think you should join us for Christmas Eve dinner,” her grandmother said.
She almost spat out her French
toast. After swallowing, she said, “I’d love to, but I planned on going home.”
Her grandmother’s chin did that jutting out thing again.
“Maybe Mom and Dad could come here with me?” Bryn said. “We could all be together. Wouldn’t that be nice after all these years?”
She held her breath.
“I suppose I could speak to your grandfather about having all three of you for a brief visit.” Her gaze came up to meet Bryn’s. “If he says no, will you still come?”
It felt like she was walking a tightrope. “If he says no, then I would still come for a brief visit.”
Her grandmother nodded. Bryn went back to her French toast. If she could reunite her mom with her family, that would be a true Christmas miracle.
Merrick entered the room and joined them at the table. He passed Bryn and Jaxon a packet of papers. “Before we leave today, you’ll need to sign these.”
The first page reported that Alec died of an aneurysm while he was addressing the Directorate. Medic Williams and Bryn were credited with trying to save him.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s the official version of events.” Merrick poured himself a cup of coffee. “Alec’s death must be accounted for. If his friends knew he died at our hands, it would push them toward more acts of violence.”
Interesting how the Directorate could rewrite events to fit their needs. “What happens if I don’t sign?”
“As a lawyer for the Directorate, it’s my duty to inform you that Ferrin can reopen Zavien’s trial at any time unless you cooperate.”
“I like you better when you aren’t being a lawyer.” She read the entire document to make sure it didn’t implicate Zavien in any way. The last paragraph stated legal proceedings would begin against her and her parents if she divulged any information not listed in the official story. Scowling, she signed and passed it back to Merrick.
Damn Directorate.
Acknowledgments
There are several people to thank for making this book a reality. I should start at the beginning and thank my parents for teaching me that being normal is overrated. I’d like to thank my husband for his unwavering support even when it meant he had to watch monster movies alone. Thank you to Theresa Cole, Erin Molta, and Stacy Abrams for editing my dragons into shape and to Entangled Publishing for making my dream come true.