He sat forward. “Why wasn’t I brought in? I’m trained for that kind of thing. I could have been an asset.”
She held her hand up. “This was more of a diplomatic exercise than a military one.” She lifted the prepared letter. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t successful.”
“They didn’t bring Mariela home?”
Lola pushed her tongue against the tip of one fang until the pain made her eyes water. “I am very sorry to inform you that Mariela perished during the mission.”
The muscles in his neck tensed and his eyes seemed to grow slightly brighter, more liquid. “What do you… mean… perished?” His voice was throaty and rough.
“You know what I mean.” Even as she imagined Mariela really being gone, she bit down, tasting blood. The combination was enough to cause her eyes to well. She let the emotions fill her voice. “She was killed in the escape.” She held the letter out to him. “It’s all right here. You can keep this copy, if you like.”
He took the letter, folded it up without looking at it, and tucked it into his jacket. Then he stood, his body rigid with military stiffness. One nod to her and he turned sharply and walked out.
She waited until she heard the front door open and shut, and then she leaned back in her chair and nodded with satisfaction. That had gone so much easier than she’d anticipated. Now Mariela would be truly hers.
If she could just find out how to get ahold of the ancients Dominic claimed had taken Mariela. They would be harder to deal with than a crazy daywalker who lived in a church, but how much harder?
She flexed her hands into claws, wishing she had something to grab hold of. She had worked around Preacher; she would find a way to work around the ancients. Mariela would be hers soon. She could feel it in her bones.
Chrysabelle stood her ground as Fi came at her again. For the second time, Fi failed to flip her over. “Come on, Fi. You’ve got to bend your knees and use the power of your legs.”
Fi snorted out a breath. “I can’t do it! You’re way taller than me. You can’t expect me to hoist you over like that.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with height. It’s all about leverage, which is really important when you’re fighting an opponent who’s bigger than you.” Chrysabelle pursed her mouth, trying to think of how better to explain it. “Do you want to wait until Damian’s back? He and Amylia should be home soon, and then he and I can demonstrate. Or maybe Amylia could help. She’s closer to your size.” Damian and the new comarre had left with Velimai to get groceries just as Fi had arrived that morning. The excursion was Damian’s idea, part of his effort to learn to live on his own and help Amylia come to terms with the new life that had been thrust on her. Chrysabelle understood all that, but the idea that Damian might move away from her after she’d just found him only added to her stress.
Fi sighed and fussed with the belt of her gi. “Maybe I should just get a gun.”
“Unless the bullets are silver, it’s not going to do much good against a vampire or a varcolai.”
Fi frowned. “But at least I’ll have the satisfaction of tearing holes in something.”
Chrysabelle lifted a brow. “You’re in a fun mood today. How about we reschedule?”
“No, sorry.” Fi sat cross-legged on the floor, then lounged back on her hands. “We had one of those super- boring formal dinners last night to introduce Heaven’s brother Remo to everyone as the new council member.”
Chrysabelle sat beside her. “I take it you didn’t have a good time.”
She made an impolite noise. “Other than getting to know the police chief, it wasn’t exactly a laugh-fest. Having Remo there just made it worse.” She shuddered. “I do not like that guy. He gives me the creeps.” She came off her hands to lean forward. “He looks at me like he wants to skin me. Or eat me. Or both.” She grimaced. “I know he blames me for his sister’s death, but what can I do?”
Chrysabelle sat back. “If he bothers you that much, say something to Doc.”
Fi shook her head. “I don’t want to add to his stress.”
“Do you think Remo would actually hurt you? Does he have a history of violence?”
“No clue.”
Chrysabelle dipped her head to stare directly at Fi. “You’re the wife of the pride leader. You said you got to know the police chief. Do you think he could help you out? Get a little background on this guy?”
Fi’s jaw popped to one side and her eyes took on the distance of thought. “He did give me his card.”
Chrysabelle straightened the hem of her tunic. “Is Remo why you want to learn to fight? Because you think he’s going to try to get revenge for his sister’s death?”
“No. Maybe a little.” She sighed. “At first, I felt awful about what happened. That fight wasn’t supposed to end in anyone’s death. But Doc and his council guys kept telling me not to feel guilty, that challenges and fights are part of life in a pride, and as I healed up, I realized that what happened
Chrysabelle nodded. “I get that. And you should be proud. In your human form, you went up against a varcolai. A creature stronger and faster than any human could ever be, and you came out the winner.” She reached over and squeezed Fi’s leg. “Even I would have been scared in that situation.”
Fi perked up a little. “You would have?”
“Absolutely.”
Fi smiled and dug under her gi to pull out something dangling off the long, black cord. “I made this to remind myself of what I’d accomplished.” She held a little glass vial in her hand. Something shimmered inside it.
“What is it?”
“It’s sand from the arena. It was in my boots. Every time I get intimidated by my position as the pride leader’s wife, this reminds me that I’ve already proved myself worthy.”
Chrysabelle held the vial, turning it under the light. “It’s actually really pretty. I’ve never seen sand that looked so sparkly.” She let go of it. “I think it’s a great idea. It’s like your talisman.”
“Thanks.” Fi tucked it back into her training uniform. “I haven’t shown it to Doc. I’m afraid he’ll think it’s silly, that I should just automatically have confidence like he does.” She propped her elbows on her knees. “I think he forgets that I was just a regular old human college student when I was killed. I didn’t grow up on the streets like he did. I don’t know how to handle myself in a lot of these situations that seem to come so naturally to him. He was raised in the pride. It’s been his life except for the years Sinjin threw him out.” She leaned her head into her hand. “I’m rambling. I’m sorry. You have enough problems without me adding mine.”
Chrysabelle smiled, but the smile wasn’t wholehearted. “We all have problems.”
“What are you going to do about Mal?”
“Nothing. I have to move forward.” While she waited and watched and prayed she didn’t have to kill him.
“There’s always something you can do. Don’t you love him? He needs you.”
“I told you I did, but Fi, I don’t think you understand what happened.”
“I do. The fae sucked out all his love for you. I promise, I get it. Now answer the question. Do you love him? Not did you,
Chrysabelle struggled to keep her mind off the child she carried. “Yes. That’s the hardest part of moving forward.”
Fi’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t just stop being in love with someone.”
“I don’t see what choice I have.” Chrysabelle stood, ready to get back to work. As she came to her feet, the floor twisted beneath her. The world had suddenly gone off balance. She put her hand out, but found nothing to grab onto. She stumbled, going down on one knee. Her stomach revolted and her mouth watered. She doubled over and pointed to the corner of the room. “Trash can.”
“What?”
“Trash. Can.” She swallowed, trying to hold herself together. “Now.”
Fi scurried to get it, sliding back to Chrysabelle’s side just as her control left. She vomited into the metal bin. Relief settled in immediately. Fi stuck her hand on Chrysabelle’s forehead. “Are you sick? You don’t feel
