Page 49 of Gemini Hunted
“Nonetheless, the ally in question is certainly real. She’s one of my brightest and most resourceful students, as well as Zara’s loyal friend.” Lucius too looks concerned about the sex demon in our bed, and he is also taking careful note of the tension between V and Ronin.
Still, Lucius never misses an opportunity to offer instruction. “Her name is Mallory McSnicker.”
All this time, Ash has quietly been murmuring to Zephyr near the window, weaving his own personal tapestry of magicaround the highly strung Dark Fae, and generally making patient and incremental progress toward persuading a reluctant Zephyr to relinquish his swords without bloodshed.
Now the Seelie Prince starts like someone pricked that impressive tattooed hide of his with a blow dart.
My suspicious gaze veers immediately to the demon. The infernal creature is crawling happily under the duvet and energetically plumping the pillows. In fact, he is giving every appearance of settling in to sleep in my sovereign’s bed.
For the moment, at least, he is not deviling Zephyr—or Ash.
I am replaying the last few moments in my mind when the realization surfaces.
For some reason, the normally calm and unflappable Ash started like a bee-stung stallion the moment he heard Mallory’s name.
Nor is he the only one who is behaving strangely.
For the past several minutes, Vasili has been staring suspiciously at Zephyr’s discarded riding cloak, which is wadded on the chair near the balcony. At first I was not certain why, but my dragonish senses are keen.
Clearly, Vasili too has spotted a small shape inside Zephyr’s cloak…
Squirming.
Now, with an impatient huff, V shifts suddenly into motion, glides forward, and gives the wadded cloak an irritable twitch.
A small feline head, tufted ears quivering over a furry white brow, pokes into view.
“What is that?!”Vasili leaps straight into the air like a cat himself and levitates near the ceiling (a power which is part of his terrible witchcraft) in bristling alarm.
“Oh, Goddess. With all this havoc, I nearly forgot.” Zephyr sighs. He eyes V’s levitating form. One corner of the Unseelie’s mouth twitches. “I found this soaked little scrap cowering inthe church belfry. Apparently she’s the last of her litter. Half-starved and soaked to the skin, the poor wretch.”
Zephyr glances toward Zara, that covert half-smile still lurking. “I seem to recall you once mentioned, my bride, that you wished for a kitten? Consider this a bridal gift.”
“Oh my God, akitten!” Zara rushes forward, her face transformed, to crouch beside the white kitten. Eagerly she frees the bedraggled creature and gathers it into her careful arms. “Oh, Zephyr, she’s so sweet! And so tiny. I think we should definitely feed her right away. Maybe she can manage a little of that fresh tuna from the galley…”
It is very true that, for many months, Zara has been longing for a kitten. The rest of us, well, we have all been willing—
Except for Vasili.
Now Lucius hurries off to the galley to fetch the tuna and Ronin rushes to bring Zara a warm dry towel, while Ash offers helpful advice and agrees, in his amiable way, with every cooing endearment and compliment Zara lavishes upon the blinking kitten. The tiny creature stares bashfully up at Zara—who is clearly her new mother—through wide green eyes shining with trust.
The Unseelie King watches the entire commotion unfold with a small satisfied smile lurking on his feral face.
“Well,” I say to the room with a shrug of resignation, “at least his gifts to her are improving, no? This one is better than the severed head of his enemy, which he gave to her last week.”
“Yo, that was a brother of mine,” Mordred reminds the room lazily, buried to the chin in the comfortable nest of pillows and blankets he has created in our bed. “Total dickhead, though. Deserved to lose his head if you ask me. So I ain’t holding a grudge, just in case anyone’s wondering.”
Vasili, who has been vocal about despising all felines, floats warily down from the ceiling. The full focus of his suspiciousgaze is now riveted on the kitten, which Zara is carefully drying and wrapping in the warm towel for a cuddle.
Already, our queen’s face is soft with love. In contrast, V’s pretty face is etched and eloquent with horror.
The kitten mews.
Our sovereign croons.
White to the lips, Vasili mutters, “Oh,fuck.”
Chapter Eleven
