“Raff!” she called, as he closed the door in her face.
Magda was lounging in his favorite chair when he stepped into the sitting room. Few people saw his inner sanctum, and many would be surprised at how shabby it was: worn sofa and chairs, the brown fabric pilled and unraveling at the seams. The paintings on the wall were terrible, all originals by his grandfather, who had styled himself as an artist, usually to lure potential lovers to his bedchamber.
Raff came from a long line of rogues.
“You’re leaving,” Magda said.
She was the chief of security at Ash Valley, and she’d chosen to come with him to Pine Ridge—he’d hoped it meant the start of a wondrously entertaining liaison—but the woman was formidable and intrinsically gifted at shutting him down. Instead, she spent most of her time digging through his video files, searching his drone records for a clue related to their second’s disappearance. Mags had been friends with Slay for a long time, so she wouldn’t give up on him easily, though Raff privately thought the bastard had absconded the minute his backdoor deal with Talfayen went south. He wasn’t dumb enough to say it out loud. His stomach still remembered the impact of Magda’s fist from the last time he pissed her off.
“You can tell that from the way I’m putting clothes in a bag? Marvelous. I see why they put you in charge of security.”
“You’re such an ass,” she said without rancor.
“Guilty. I suspect you already have your own sources inside Pine Ridge, however, and are merely testing whether I’ll be honest. I will be that, my dear Magda, even if other promises are unwise.”
Magda merely growled.
“Right. Well, I’m taking an honor guard to Daruvar to discuss the possibility of a marital alliance with Princess Thalia.”
“Why is she a princess when her father’s title was ‘Lord’?” Magda asked.
That was unexpected curiosity, but Raff answered anyway. “She means to be queen, to resurrect the defunct royal line.”
“Then it’s a self-assigned title,” Magda said, curling her lip.
“I suspect that’s the case with any monarch. They start calling themselves king or queen, and then they defend against all opposition. If they’re strong enough to defeat all challengers, the claim becomes the truth.”
She shot him an unreadable look. “I’m glad the Animari did away with such antiquated bullshit. It’s asinine to believe that competent leadership is a quality that runs through bloodlines.”
“But…once a family takes power, it’s still rare for it to shift, even in our culture,” Raff said gently. “A Pineda has led Pine Ridge since my great grandfather’s day, and I believe it’s much the same for the Ashers who lead—”
“I got it, shut up already,” Mags muttered.
His point made, it seemed wise to change the subject. “You haven’t told me what you’ve found, if anything, but it’s time to make a choice. You can stay here with my blessing, accompany me to Daruvar, or return to Ash Valley.”
“That’s convenient. The trail points toward the Eldritch, and I’d like to dig around in their ranks, if they’ll let me.”
“Then I’ll appoint you as my personal bodyguard, an attaché sent courtesy of Ash Valley. There should be no problem.”
“Does this mean you won’t be pursuing me any longer?” It was impossible to tell how she felt about that, but Raff suspected her chief emotion was relief.
Magda had proven to be a mountain he couldn’t climb, not with wit, barbs, or charm. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t responded to anyone’s overtures in Pine Ridge, which rendered her an intriguing question mark. What would the person be like who could get through her iron walls? Raff reckoned they’d need to be either a barbarian or a thief, capable of knocking down defenses or scaling them swiftly.
“Are you disappointed?” he teased.
She almost smiled; he glimpsed the spark of it in her dark eyes, but her mouth didn’t move. “Tough shit, you’ll never know.”
He laughed as he fastened his travel bag. “In all seriousness, I doubt the good princess and I will have the sort of relationship that requires fidelity.”
With a grim sort of resignation, he could picture the formality and the endless talking, culminating in agreements and provisions, rights and responsibilities, ending in a tepid night of consummation, whereupon they would largely live their own lives apart from occasions of state. Most probably, this marriage was a good fit for him, as he’d always been easily…distracted, prone to chasing one person while another slept peacefully in his bed. Not that he ever promised anything more.
Ruefully, he touched the scar that skated over his cheekbone down into his beard. The woman had used a specially treated blade, or the wound would have healed too fast to leave a mark, a perk of Animari accelerated metabolism. As it was, it took doctors two weeks to figure out why the wound was infected and why it wouldn’t close. By the time they solved the mystery, Raff had a permanent souvenir that resulted from his reputation. Ironic, since he hadn’t even been guilty that time.
“That seems…sad,” Mags said finally.
“What does?”
“That you’ll never know what it’s like to have a true mate. Won’t you be lonely?’
He already was. It was why he was always searching for the next warm body, because nobody ever touched his heart. Raff was starting to doubt he even had one.
He forced a smile. “Going soft on me, Mags? I’ll meet you out front. We’re moving in an hour.”
2.
“Still no response from the wolves?” Thalia demanded.
Lileth shook her head. “Not yet.”
Slamming her palm against the door would’ve been extremely satisfying, but Thalia controlled her temper. One did not acquire a reputation as an ice queen without
