Max gasped, feeling the betrayal like a literal slice to the gut.
“No!” she whispered. Spinning on her heel, she tried to flee but wasn’t fast enough. Strong hands grabbed her and she felt herself being lifted off her feet.
“Now, now, where do you think you’re going, hmm?” The silky voice in her ear should have been sexy. It should have sent shivers down her spine for an entirely different reason. But as it was, it sent her heart pounding in alarm. If her man was in on this horror, then all hope was truly lost.
Ryker had been a frantic mess when they had appeared back in the guest bedroom as if nothing had ever happened. Her entire Order had been there, talking out loud as well as in her head and she realised they must have been trying to communicate with her for some time. They had explained that she had just gone blank, like she was under hypnosis or something the moment she touched the tarnished brand on Caspian’s arm. No matter what they did, they were unable to snap her out of it. But when she had started to gasp for breath, Ryker had planted his lips directly on hers and forced his own breath into her body. Somehow, Ryker had unknowingly mirrored what Emmanuel was doing to her in the abyss and had merged his soul with hers, just long enough to ride to the rescue. Cali had deemed the entire episode incredibly romantic.
Hours of swearing, hugs, tears, and arguments had followed. But in the end, Max had got her way; the party at Dave’s hotel was still going ahead. The strategists of the group had proposed that the ruined brand on Caspian’s arm was some kind of Trojan horse. The moment she touched it, it had acted as a conduit directly to Emmanuel. Everybody was pissed and scared that such a thing was possible, but Max had calmly told them all that she simply wouldn’t go around touching scorched brands anymore. Problem solved. Her Order hadn’t been quite as practically-minded but had eventually acquiesced to her demands of the party continuing.
And now she knew why; they had planted their own trap for her.
“Ryker? Baby? Put me down, huh?” She asked sweetly, forcing a stiff smile past her lips. The man of her dreams merely smiled back, her fear obviously having no effect on him – probably because his heart was nothing but a cold slab of stone in his chest, she fumed internally.
“Sure, baby. I’ll put you down,” he promised her.
Her feet hit the floor and she dodged low, hoping to trick the second pair of masculine arms coming directly at her. She was too late. Axel knew her moves too well and was easily able to scoop her up, forcing her further into the brightly lit room with the device of torture perched evilly in the corner. Not even bothering to pretend anymore, she shrieked and bawled out her rage. The animalistic sounds of fury were met with loud guffaws and Max felt all hope slipping away. But she wasn’t going down without a fight. She was a street rat. Street rats fought to the death.
Arms that were slenderer but no less strong, gripped her tightly and continued her forward progression into the room. “Lark. Put me down this instant!” she demanded.
“Or what?” Lark cackled.
“Or I’ll poof you out of existence, you rotten cretin!” She shrieked, garnering the attention of the entire room. Lark merely laughed again, that was until she grabbed his nipple and gave a solid twist of her wrist.
“Shit!” He yelled. “Bloody hell, woman! Here, you take her.”
Max found herself engulfed in arms so large they made her feel positively dainty. And dainty was something she never felt. Looking up into eyes of amber, she gasped, “Et tu, Brute? Bey, how could you?”
Even Beyden didn’t have the grace to look repentant, “Now, Max. You’ve really brought this on yourself.”
“What?! How can you say that? What I have ever done to deserve this kind of betrayal? This treason? This perfidy? This –”
“This karaoke?” Diana finished her tirade with an eye roll, yanking her out of Beyden’s arms and pushing her into the room.
Max gasped, digging her heels into the hardwood floor, only to have Diana continue to drag her around like she was some kind of toy instead of a terrifyingly powerful goddess. “You said the ‘K’ word!” She covered her ears with her hands, “Not the ‘K’ word. Anything but that!” Max wailed.
Diana huffed, coming to a halt as the rest of her Order spread out around her like vultures waiting to pick at her carcass. “Beyden’s right. You brought this on yourself. If you didn’t make such a big deal out of it, we wouldn’t want to press the issue.”
“Di’s right,” Cali said, looking all pretty and pregnant. Max hated her. “You know if you have some kind of scab we’re going to want to pick at it. We’re a little sick like that.” She grinned.
Max narrowed her eyes at her blonde friend, really wishing she could punch her between her blue eyes but knowing it would be really inappropriate given she was growing the most perfect little bundle of joy in the world. Cali grinned and patted her rounded tummy as if hearing Max’s thoughts.
“You know, you won’t always be gestating,” Max reminded her.
Cali laughed, “Two and a half more months.”
More like one more month, Max thought, but didn’t say so out loud.
“Come on, Max. It was your idea to have this party. And what better way to celebrate than with good food, good drink, good company, and good music?” Beyden asked, trying to sound sensible.
“Come on, can you really blame us for being curious? The way you talk about karaoke –” Axel said.
“What? I never talk about the ‘K’ word! Once! I have mentioned it once, voluntarily! The other times you all have brought it up.” Max pointed out.
“Exactly!” Darius pointed at her. “You always harp on about things but not this. It’s most interesting.”
“You too, Darius?” She groaned. She was sunk. She knew it. But if she was going down, she was dragging the whole miserable bunch of them with her. “What you’ve done here – it’s disgusting. I’m pretty sure I won’t ever forgive any of you. But if you insist, then –”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Look, you don’t have to play with the big, bad machine okay? Come and sit down. You’re driving me nuts. You all act like a bunch of juveniles,” Ivy muttered, steering her towards a table in the corner.
Max wanted so badly to pout but figured the big, bad ranger would believe that was even more juvenile. Still, she made sure to sit facing the monstrosity – she knew better than to turn her back on those things.
Two hours later and Max could admit, she had all but forgotten about the evil voice-machine perched like a gargoyle in the corner. She had made the rounds, chatting and comforting everyone there. She could hardly stop smiling because everywhere she looked, she saw chadens and wardens and paladins, all talking and laughing. Everyone was relaxed and having a good time. There had been some awkwardness in the beginning, but Knox and his fun-loving sons had quickly smoothed it all over as if they were professional party planners or something. There had also been a few tears as many chadens had been reunited with loved ones.
Max sighed, watching a dozen couples slow-dance in the middle of the ballroom in the dingy hotel. They weren’t all romantic couples of course, but fathers and daughters, brothers and sisters, friends and family.
“It’s a pretty sight,” Blu offered, coming up beside her.
“It is,” she agreed.
“To think what all these good men have gone through for so long. I must say, I’m not sure I will ever get over the guilt.”
Max placed a comforting hand on the warden’s arm, “Blu, you didn’t know.”
“I didn’t want to know. None of us did. In the beginning, we all pushed hard for a solution to the chades but when none was immediately forthcoming, we just put it in the too-hard basket. Most of us anyway,” Blu amended, nodding his head in the direction of Mordecai where he stood like a silent, Scottish sentry in the corner. “Mordecai volunteered to work with the rangers. He was always trying to find answers, always working for a solution, even when the entire council had dismissed the chades.”
Max didn’t answer and she knew Blu didn’t expect one. She knew the time was coming when she was going to have to confront Mordecai and his relationship to her. But it wasn’t going to be tonight. “Dance?” she asked Blu.
Blu bowed, “My lady, I would love to. But I’m afraid I have a previous engagement with an equally fiery female.”
She saw his gaze directed across the room to a certain bitchy fire warden. “You and Cinder?” She gasped, truly surprised, “Oh Blu …”
He chuckled, patting her on the knee in a fatherly fashion. “Now, don’t be that way young miss. I know you two didn’t get off to the best of starts and her family has caused you some strife. But she’s not that bad.”
She pinned him with a droll look, “Some strife? One of her grandsons tried to set me on fire and the other one is taking up arms against me because he thinks I’m a usurper.”
“Well, we don’t all have the privilege of choosing our family like you did,” he pointed out. “You should give her a chance. People can surprise you. Besides,” Blu quickly continued, “She got your loyalty brand before I did.”
Max exhaled loudly, completely shocked, “What?”
Blu laughed at the incredulous look on her face, “Didn’t think she had one, huh? Do you really think anyone could step foot inside these doors if they weren’t loyal to you?” He chuckled again, “You should have seen her. She kept trying to scrub it off in the shower.”
Now that made Max laugh. At least until she started picturing Blu and Cinder in the shower together. Max shuddered – gross! Blu gave her a final pat on the shoulder before winking rather salaciously in Cinder’s direction. Max was relieved to see genuine affection in the older woman’s gaze as she smiled back. That was until she saw Max watching her, then her face morphed into her typical scowl. Max grinned at her, giving her a pinky wave. Maybe all Cinder needs is a little extra fibre in her diet or something, she thought, deciding to give her some leeway for Blu’s benefit.
“Did I hear my woman asking another man to dance?” A rough voice asked from behind her, as a muscular arm wrapped around her waist.
Max tilted her head back and smiled at Ryker, “Well, I know not to ask you. You don’t dance.” She poked him in the stomach.
Ryker didn’t snipe back as she expected, instead she found herself wrapped in the circle of his arms as he swayed her back and forth to the music. Max’s jaw dropped open, “Dude! I thought you didn’t dance!” Expecting a joking reply but hearing only silence, Max looked up. Only to have the breath stall in her lungs from the look of love shining in Ryker’s eyes.
“Max,” he whispered, leaning forward infinitesimally slowly.
Max swore time stood still as she waited for Ryker’s lips to touch her own. This, she thought. This is what she was fighting for. Whenever doubts crept in. Whenever she began to feel like she was making a huge mistake, this is what she would force herself to remember. This moment right here, where her man held her in his arms like a precious, yet unbreakable jewel and he kissed her like no other person existed in the whole universe. This moment when her man – who hated to dance – whirled her around the dancefloor to Daryl Braithwaite’s Horses in front of all their friends and family. Yes, she would need that moment, she knew. Because that one chance she had told Axel about was now down to about a quarter of that, so she was going to take all the moments she could get. Speaking of which …
She dragged an unprotesting Ryker off the dancefloor and headed in the direction of Satan’s toy. She hissed at the black machine with all the deceptively happily-coloured buttons, and began scrolling through the playlist.
“Um, babe? What are you doing?” Ryker asked her.
Max rolled her eyes when she heard Ryker barking through the Order link that their liege was having some kind of aneurysm, resulting in the other six idiots rushing over to her.
“What’s going on?” Darius demanded.
Max ignored them all, making her selection and picking up the microphone, “My turn,” was all she said.
“What? After all that drama about karaoke being the work of the devil and practically clawing your way out of here when you saw the machine earlier – now you want a turn?” Beyden was incredulous.
“If ya can’t beat ‘em …” Max shrugged, trying to keep things light even though she knew this was an important moment.
Ryker laughed for a minute before he saw her face, “Wait, you’re serious? You’re going to sing?”
“Deadly serious,” Max promised.
“But you can’t sing,” Ryker protested.
Max raised a dark brow, “Oh, can’t I?”
As if sensing a trap, Ryker looked around at his fellow knights, “Ah, can you?”
Max shrugged, fiddling with buttons that didn’t really need to be fiddled with. But she was nervous and the disbelieving looks of her Order was making it worse. There was one future she had seen a long time ago that she was trying to bring to fruition. If she could make one future happen, then maybe she could do it again.
“You hate singing, Max,” Dex pointed out, gently.
Max raised her lips in derision at her old stalker-slash-friend, “No. I hate karaoke. It is the leading cause of the bastardisation of every classic song ever written. I swear, I felt Louis Armstrong roll over in his grave when you mangled What a Wonderful World earlier.”
The look of affronted outrage on Dex’s face was satisfying to see, as well as Cali’s head bopping up and down in agreement. “Okay. You’re all crimping my style. Get lost.”
Max gave them all a not-so-gentle shove and pressed play before she could think any more about what she was doing. Still, she spared a look in Ivy’s direction, giving the woman a small nod. She saw Ivy frown at her for a moment before she glanced down. Max saw the moment realisation struck, just as the first bars of the song loaded on the screen.
***
Ivy didn’t need to look down to examine the hand holding hers. Nor did she need to look up to know it would be emerald eyes peering down at her, shining nothing but love in her direction. Months and months ago, Max had shown her this. Had shown her a potential future where someone cherished her – cranky, repressed, and stoic, her. Max had shown her a large, outdated and poorly kept room with dirty glass doors that housed dozens of bodies who were men once more. Ivy looked around, taking in all the men who were once wardens, then chades, and were now chadens, made whole and well by the odd creature singing in front of them. This was the culmination of Ivy’s life’s work. She had always believed in the redemption of the chades. And now their redemption – and hers – was here. Ivy shook her head, hand squeezing Lark’s as she listened with shocked awe to her Goddess.
‘I’ll be, I’ll be your family,
When your times get hard.
And I’ll see, I’ll see you next to me.
When the road gets dark.’
Max was singing Boyce Avenue’s Family and Ivy couldn’t think of a more fitting song. “Did you know she could sing?” Ivy asked no-one in particular.
All she received were gaping mouths, blank looks, and shaking heads. “Well, she sings like an angel,” Ivy admitted, softly.
“No,” the male voice corrected her. “She sings like a Goddess.”
Ivy listened, entranced as Max sang about broken roads, beating hearts, and promises, and couldn’t help thinking that Mordecai was right.