Obsidian Flame

She wasn’t happy about being here, but her situation was profoundly more complex than his. For one thing, she’d gotten into it with Medichi’s woman a few weeks ago. They’d almost come to blows and would have if Endelle hadn’t intervened, pulled a brief stasis stunt, and caught Parisa up beneath her arm. Parisa loved Medichi with a breh-based passion now and Marguerite’s flirtation with Antony had not been well received. Understatement.



For another thing, socializing gave Marguerite the scratch. He was hoping Alison would show up sooner rather than later to maybe take charge of Marguerite since he had business to take care of with his men in the next hour or so, like essentially how to disrupt a military review spectacle.



He stood near the large central table, the one with the seven-foot-tall floral arrangement and the living magnolia flowers. The estate had a formal garden, a large pool, a guest house, an olive grove and press, as well as a vineyard and winery.



Medichi had bucks. He owned several massive public gardens that apparently brought in sufficient revenue to support several estates this size.



Thorne glanced down at Marguerite. He took her hand and asked, “You ready to do this?”



“Sure. Why not?”



“Thorne, you’re here.”



Alison’s voice brought him turning around to face the north wing, which housed a number of communal rooms including the kitchen. She held a tray in her hands that supported several reddish drinks in martini glasses. Cosmos. Inside, he started to relax. Alison would have done this, would have made sure that Marguerite had her favorite drink at hand.



Maybe everything would be okay.



She set the tray down on the central foyer table and took his free hand. “I am so glad you’re back.” In a lower voice, she added, “You gave us a scare.”



“I know. Sorry about that. But I’m here now.”



“Yes, you are.”



She took a glass from the tray and handed it to Marguerite. “I’ve heard you prefer these. I hope I made them right.”



“Thank you.” She took a sip but wrinkled her nose.



“I knew it,” Alison cried. “I got the recipe wrong.”



“Actually, that’s not it.” She put her hand to her stomach. “I just haven’t been myself lately.”



Alison nodded. “Well, that happens when you go through hell.”



Thorne watched Marguerite grin. Alison took the drink back but continued, “So how are you? From everything Thorne has told me, you’re squat in the middle of it right now.”



He felt Marguerite’s hand tense within his.



Marguerite didn’t say anything for a long moment, just seemed to search Alison’s eyes. She finally released a sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to say. I’m just really confused about everything that’s going on. You’ve heard about the hidden colony, right?”



“Shocked. We’re just shocked. Three thousand years. Inconceivable. I think it’s knocked Endelle a little out of stride as well.”



Thorne saw movement in the room opposite and Kerrick appeared, supporting baby Helena over his left shoulder and carrying a diaper bag in his free hand. The baby wore a halter in case she mounted her wings.



“Thorne, you made it.”



“Hell, yeah.”



Alison turned and took the baby from Kerrick. Thorne eyed the brother for a long moment then thought, What the hell. He moved into him and the men embraced. Dammit, it had only been a few weeks, but it felt like centuries. But then the brothers had been battling together for a long time. Being apart, even for short stretches, well, it just felt weird.



Thorne released him and once more turned to Marguerite. “I don’t know that you ever met Marguerite.”



“Don’t think I have. Nice to meet you. Heard you were in that shithole of a Convent in Prescott Two.”



Marguerite laughed. “I like you, Kerrick. And shithole is exactly right. If that building wasn’t made of stone, I’d say burn it to the ground.”



Kerrick smiled. “I never could understand the mind of the religious zealot.” He glanced at Thorne. “Even Grace. I mean I always knew that she had a more pronounced spiritual side than most.” He frowned suddenly. “I heard Leto will be here tonight as well.”



Thorne nodded. “In a bit. He’s in rough shape. Hasn’t taken … dying blood in a while. I wanted a chance to talk to everyone first. Grace is with him.”



Kerrick’s voice dropped. “Alison said it’s the breh-hedden.”



“It is.” He shook his head. “Jesus. Leto.”



The room got quiet.



Marguerite said, “Grace will adjust. I mean, the breh-hedden’s pleasant enough if you like a jackhammer to the center of your brain.”



Both men busted up. “Exactly,” Kerrick said.



Even Alison’s head wagged back and forth. “It is pretty bad,” she looked up at Kerrick, “at least in the beginning. But it’s amazing, too.” He slid his arm around her back and hugged her. He even leaned down and kissed her full on the lips. Helena had her head on Alison’s shoulder.



The moment was so tender, so full of what the future could be between himself and Marguerite, that Thorne’s muscles twitched. When Kerrick drew upright once more, Thorne really needed to move things in a different direction because dammit his chest hurt. “So, is everyone here?”



“Yep. I think Luken and Zach are in the pool room. Zach and Santiago are still feuding, but I guess you know about that. I tried to talk sense to them but it’s just not my thing. Everyone else is in the living room.” He jerked his head in the opposite direction.



“Okay, what the hell is this feud about that it wasn’t resolved in about fifteen minutes over a couple a beers?”



Kerrick’s smile was lopsided. “Well, if you must know, it’s about you.”



Oh, great.



Kerrick’s smile broadened. “But I’ll let them tell you all about it when they’re in the same room and you can, I don’t know, slam their heads together a couple of times. I know I wanted to.” He grimaced. “But thanks for putting Luken in charge. I tried to fill your shoes for a couple of weeks and about lost my mind. I don’t have that skill set or even a tenth of your patience. Luken has done a helluva lot better since he took over yesterday.”



* * *



Marguerite watched Alison with her baby. Alison swayed from side to side. There was something mesmerizing about her, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint, except that there seemed to be an almost visible connection between her and Kerrick.



Alison was at least six feet, very blond. She wore a black headband that held her long hair away from her face and down her back. She had on a sleek black strapless dress. Kerrick’s hand naturally went to her back and shoulder, touching her often, very tender.



The baby, a little over three months, wore a halter. Thorne said this was typical since she often spontaneously mounted her wings, which were supposed to be a very pale blue, iridescent, almost fairy-like. According to the doctors, and oral tradition, her wings would likely change shape and the iridescence would disappear with age. Because Helena was an anomaly, Marguerite had a secret hope that she’d mount her wings tonight. Apparently, what you saw was the intricate mesh superstructure with just a thin layer of fine downy feathers. She thought it sounded beautiful.



The baby had soft skin with touchable rolls, and Alison’s fingers ran in a soothing line up and down the middle of the baby’s back. Maybe it kept her calm so she didn’t mount her wings.



But Helena wiggled a lot and kept turning her head, almost craning her neck in Marguerite’s direction. She hoped liked hell Alison wasn’t one of those mothers who foisted their infants onto other women with the words like, You’ll love holding her.



Like hell she would.



Marguerite was not especially fond of children. And babies gave her the willies. Without thinking she stepped closer to Thorne, and his arm found her shoulders. He and Kerrick were talking about the hidden colony’s inadequate Militia Warrior setup.



Alison moved quite suddenly, crossing between the men, which caused a kind of social sucking movement that brought the warriors standing right next to each other. They kept talking as though nothing had happened.



Unfortunately, Alison turned in such a way that now Marguerite was eyeball-to-eyeball with the baby. Great.



“I’m sorry,” Alison said. “I can see that babies aren’t your thing, but she’s been craning to get a look at you. Is that all right? I can take her into another room if you like.”



Marguerite met Alison’s concerned gaze. Well, put like that, how could she do anything but say, “Of course it’s all right. But, yeah, I’m not exactly baby-friendly.”



“I think you have to be around them, at least that’s my theory. Before my sister had her baby I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic. I mean I always wanted children of my own, but I so get not giving a rat’s … I mean, not caring much about others.” She lowered her voice. “We’re trying to watch the language. It’s a challenge.”



She glanced at Kerrick then back.



No shit—she was bonded to a warrior. They talked like she talked, all salt with a little pepper thrown in.



Marguerite was surprised at how Helena stared at her. “Does she always do this?”



“No. That’s what’s so strange about it. She seems taken with you. Maybe it’s your short hair, which I love by the way. I’ve been thinking about lopping mine off but apparently my warrior won’t have it.”



“I didn’t exactly give Thorne a choice but he seems okay with it.”



Helena strained in Marguerite’s direction and reached out with her hand toward her. Alison got a funny look on her face. Her brow grew pinched. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She’s going to mount. I can always feel it. Her whole body gets tense—and look at her back muscles.”



Even the men stopped talking. Marguerite moved so that she could see the baby’s back. Yep, the muscles had thickened and the small apertures were weeping.