Others approached to speak to Maura and Vott, but their stories blurred together for Becka, whose migraine continued to throb. They were all pleasantries and superficial comments and nothing which felt meaningful to the investigation into Tesse’s death.
When she had heard a few dozen tales of offerings and gifts, gorged herself on long-lost childhood delicacies, and had perhaps had a glass too many of fairy wine, Becka excused herself from the table.
Considering her headache, she’d need more hot pepper sauce if she had any hope of sleeping tonight.
Chapter 10
Becka slipped out of the dining hall and stumbled down the corridors toward her room. A pair of guards going the other way passed by her, not particularly paying her much attention. Considering her youth, where she’d walked down this hall countless times, even so many years ago, Becka could still walk it with her eyes shut. Fingers brushing against the wall, she reveled in the fond memory and laughed out loud.
A deep male laugh behind her echoed her mirth.
Becka stopped and spun to face Lagan, whose disarming smile and intense gaze was a look she had become familiar with.
“Apologies, Becka. I did not mean to surprise you.”
Becka giggled and was astonished to hear the giddy sound exit her mouth. How much wine had she had to drink?
“It’s fine,” she replied.
“Oh my, you appear to be wearing most of a cat,” he said. “Is there any left on the poor animal?”
She laughed, again. “Oh, he got into something, as cats do. He’s fine now, just has to live with a naked tail for a few days,” she explained. Lagan frowned at her, but then shrugged as he resumed his smile. “Are you looking for your guest quarters?”
HIs intense gaze didn’t waver as he stepped in near to her. “No, I saw you at the family table and decided to seek you out.”
Becka cocked her head to the side. “Why?”
He answered with a sensual smile, as his gaze traveled down her face, neck, and across the bare skin of her shoulders. “I wondered if, with you being back in fae territory, if you might be open to a liaison during your interlude here.”
A sinking sensation tugged at her stomach. Being reminded of her potential usefulness as a breeder soured her mood. “No thanks. I’m not interested in having Rowan babies.”
He took a step back, a flash of anger in his gaze. “We each have certain responsibilities to our people.”
“I’m not even one of you anymore. Besides, I’ve seen the birth rate studies. The chances of a non-gifted having a gifted child are remote at best. It’s why we’re exiled; so we don’t dilute the magical lineage.”
“And yet, not impossible. You must prefer fae lovers, so what’s the harm?”
She smelled the musky scent of a shifter a moment before he emerged from an arched doorway about ten feet down the hall to their left. Although she’d expected her father’s hired guards to be present in addition to the fae guards, having the stout shifter appear in relatively close quarters definitely sobered her mood.
“The lady said she wasn’t interested,” the wolf shifter said, his voice rumbling on the edge of a growl.
Lagan looked at the shifter, open disdain pinching his features. “Oh, I heard. But I am allowed to be appalled over her lack of interest in her own kind.” He turned back to Becka. “I will take my leave, then. Feel free to contact me if you change your mind.”
Becka didn’t bother to reply, and Lagan spun on his heel and stormed off down the hallway.
“My pardon, my Lady,” the shifter said. “Do you remember me?”
“I think so. It’s Barric. Barric Douglas, right?” She remembered him as a shifter her father had in his employ. Oh my, didn’t he appear as fit as ever?
His swaggery smile ran all the way from the creases of his steely blue eyes to his wolfish grin. “Name’s Brent, actually. Barric is my dad. I took over Duke Vott’s protection details when my dad retired a few years ago.”
Becka shook her head. “Apologies for my confusion, but you’re the spitting image of your father. Well, at least how he looked a decade ago.”
“No offense taken. It happens all of the time.”
“Does Vott keep you pretty busy?”
He took a deep breath, seeming to catch the smell of something interesting. “He does, although not year round. I cycle my time back and forth between Rowan and the Enclave.”
“Sounds interesting,” Becka replied. A Shifter Enclave would be a curious place to visit. She made a mental note to add it to her journal.
“I was actually in the city earlier today. I doubt you were aware, but I was the one Duke Vott sent to escort you here. I only now returned.”
“Oh shoot, that’s right.” She had to focus a little extra to remember the details. “Vott said he’d sent a shifter. I didn’t know it was you.”
“I understand you got waylaid by an Enforcer before I arrived. Did he give you any trouble?”
Becka waved her hand. “Oh, Quinn? Pshaw. He’s more or less a liar but he’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got him handled.”
Brent frowned, and Becka wondered if Brent had heard about Quinn’s reputation problems.
“I’ve heard about him. Duke Vott mentioned he’d been insisting on protective duties. If you’d like, I can petition the Enforcers to replace Quinn. It’d be a mere formality and I bet you’d feel more comfortable with someone you and your family know and trust.”
Her stomach soured. There was that phrase again. Your family. It spoke to a collective blindness within all of the guilds; that a world of experience besides their own didn’t exist. Somehow Becka was simultaneously family and also an outcast. As if the two could ever truly coexist within her personal reality.
Becka dug in her mental heels, as inebriated as they were. “You know what Brent? It’s
