Carlos scowled. “Then go already.”
“Do you want me to swing by later and fill you in?”
The peace offering got an irritable shrug. “Dez will make sure we know what he wants us to.”
“But Cara—”
“You said she was fine. I’ll take your word on it.”
Anger kicked anew. “Don’t you care about her at all?”
Carlos looked away, throat working, and his voice was rough when he said, “Of course I do, damn you. She’s all I have left of Essie.” He picked up the tray and headed for the door, shooting over his shoulder, “But if you don’t save the world, it won’t matter what I care about.”
The door closed behind him with a definitive-sounding thunk, making that a hell of an exit line. Or it would’ve been if he hadn’t been talking about Cara.
She deserved a father who would’ve gone for his throat at the first hint of their fooling around, and not because of bigotry; a lover who would’ve taken her old man down for being a cold bastard when it came to her; family members who would’ve banded together rather than scattering to sulk in their own corners when things got bad. She deserved… Oh, shit.
He stood there a moment, staring at the door as he got it. He freaking got it.
She needed someone on her side, someone with an official don’t fuck with me title and the weight of the king behind him. And he could be that guy, though not in the way he most wanted. No, he wasn’t going to be her lover.… He was going to take Dez up on his job offer. It would piss her off, granted, but it would put him in a position to protect her not only from her enemies, but from herself. And right now that had to be his first and foremost priority.… Because despite all the signs pointing to the value of a quick and painless exit, and all the complications that were bound to come from his sticking way too close to her, he wasn’t going to walk away from her this time.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When the door behind Cara opened and boots sounded on the tiled foyer of the royal suite, she gritted her teeth. First, because she had been on the cusp of getting Dez to agree to her strategy and now the moment was lost. And second, because she knew who it was right away, not just because she, Dez, and Reese had been waiting for him, but because the air changed, sending heated currents coursing over her skin and raising the fine hairs on the back of her neck.
She hesitated a moment, then turned, playing it casual and hoping to hell that the king and his mate didn’t see her flush like an idiot teen.
Sven was wearing jeans, boots, and a battered T-shirt, and should’ve looked like the beach bum he’d been when she first tracked him down to bring him back with her to Skywatch. But the clothes were where the resemblance ended. His body was bigger, his swagger tougher, and his eyes homed in on hers immediately, locking there for a moment and gaining a silent question, as if he wanted to ask whether she was okay, or maybe how much she had told the king.
She sent him a small nod, not even sure what she was really trying to convey other than acknowledgment. She was okay on some levels, far from it on others, and her and Dez’s conversation wasn’t really his business. She had her own relationship with the Nightkeepers’ leader, her own agenda, and neither of those things had anything to do with her and Sven.
“Sorry it took me so long to get here,” he said to Dez and Reese as he crossed the room. “I needed a few minutes with Carlos.”
Cara stiffened. She had tried to find her father last night and again this morning, but he hadn’t been in his quarters, the greenhouse, or any of his usual haunts. Had he been avoiding her? Ire gathered, even though by the time she had awakened from five hours of restless dozing, she had all but talked herself out of asking his advice. She knew what he would say, after all: Don’t overreach; be proud of your heritage; don’t try to be something you’re not.
Well, screw that. She would decide what she was and wasn’t going to do, and right now, she was doing her damnedest to keep the winikin on her side in the aftermath of last night’s blowout. And Sven was interrupting.
Deep breath, she told herself as he took a wide wingback chair opposite hers, putting the ornately carved coffee table between them. Wait it out. Dez hadn’t exactly agreed to her requests… but he hadn’t outright denied them, either. He’d seemed on board with still letting the winikin lead their own fighting teams. As for the other… well, he hadn’t turned her down yet. Once Sven’s debriefing was over and they could get back to—
“We were just discussing what should be done with Zane and Lora,” the king said, startling her. “Your thoughts?”
Sitting up straight, she shot a look at Sven, who didn’t seem nearly as surprised as he ought to have been. Instead, he just scowled like he’d bitten into something rotten. “Why is it even under discussion?”
Of course he would see it that way—treason was one of the few things punishable by death under Nightkeeper law, and he’d always hated Zane. Even though she knew some of that stemmed from Sven’s wanting to protect her, irritation sparked and grew, and she snapped, “Because not all of us are so comfortable with—” She bit off the word “death,” knowing that was a too-low blow. “Sorry. Shit.”
He ignored her apology as if it didn’t matter either way, though she had seen him flinch. “What’s your answer, then? Imprisonment? Why should we waste manpower keeping tabs on those two, not to mention running the risk of looking like we’re tossing out the writs left and right, and pretty much doing whatever we damn well please?”
That should’ve seemed ironic, coming from him. Instead it was an indication of just how serious things had gotten all of a sudden. She could feel time slipping away from them, could feel the balance among the winikin threatening to skew too far away from center. Leaning in, she said urgently, “This isn’t about you, or even about the writs. It’s about needing the winikin to come together as a valid fighting force, and fast. Sasha managed to heal up the two who got hurt last night, but there’s already some serious rumbling going on, and lots of people pissed off, both because of what Zane and Lora did, and how their capture went down.” She didn’t blame him for that, though; there had been plenty of people involved in the plan, including her, so the failure was shared. If anything, the winikin would blame her for not seeing the Nightkeepers’ grandstanding for what it was. Gods knew she blamed herself for it. Now she needed to regain their trust as best she could. “The way I see it, my best chance for getting them to rally behind me is if I get some concessions from the king, ones that they care about, and that make them feel like they’ve got some say in their own destinies.”
She expected Sven to argue that this wasn’t a democracy and they all had to follow the damn leader. Instead, he simmered down and nodded, if slowly. “Okay, I get that. But I don’t see how Zane and Lora play into it. Don’t tell me you want to do some sort of a trial with the winikin version of a kangaroo court?”
His tacit acceptance probably shouldn’t have surprised her, and it definitely shouldn’t have warmed her. Because it did both, there was an edge to her tone when she said, “A trial would waste time that we don’t have, and I think it would stir up more questions than answers.” She shook her head. “No, I want to have Rabbit reprogram them and then send them home.”
There was a beat of silence and a flash of disbelief before he said, “You’re fucking kidding me.” He stared blankly at her for a long moment, then turned to Dez and Reese. “You’re not seriously considering this, are you?”
The king and queen, who sat together on the couch in jeans and sweatshirts with their heads tilted together, had been quietly observing the exchange. So quietly, in fact, that Cara got a sudden chill of premonition that there was something else going on here, that they hadn’t been waiting just to get Sven’s full version of what had happened during the bar fight. They seemed to be waiting to be convinced. But of what?
Heart thumping, she put in, “Obviously, we would only do it if Rabbit thought it was safe. He’s going to be the one questioning them. He’ll know if he can block their memories strongly enough to make it work.”
Sven shook his head, dividing his attention between her and the royal couple. “Use Rabbit to question them? Absolutely. But don’t let them go. What if the blocks fail? What if somebody recognizes their marks and tracks
