Page 123 of The Seeker
“Explain yourself,” Meera said.
“No,” Rhys added, “explain what you mean about Bozidar knowing we’re here. Explain why this is all happeningnow, Vasu! What have you done?”
“Me? Nothing. What makes you think this is my fault?” He turned to Meera. “Bozidar knows about Havre Hélène. He’s known for years.”
“So why—”
“He can’t be bothered.” Vasu waved a careless hand. “Or… the wards are too strong. Or he knows you’d kill too many of his sons before he could do anything. Something like that.” The angel sat on the library table and swung his legs back and forth. “This table is sturdy.”
“He knows the haven is here?” Meera felt her stomach drop. The singers. The children. The hidden ones.
“Why now, Vasu?” Rhys wouldn’t let up. “If he couldn’t be bothered before, why now?”
“Maybe… he likes parties.” The angel grinned.
Meera’s mind was spinning. “Rhys, what are we going to do? He knows we’re here.”
Rhys didn’t answer, but Meera saw him having a wordless conversation with Damien and Sari. There were raised eyebrows, frowns, and head shakes.
“You have a veritable army coming to your mating ceremony,” Damien muttered. “It could work.”
Rhys said, “If he’s coming anyway—”
“He wouldn’t be able to resist.” Damien shook his head. “I see your point, but I can’t be a part of this decision. It’s not my haven to protect. What you’re thinking carries a lot of risk.”
Meera tried not to lose her temper. She hated being left out of the conversation. “Tell me what you’re talking about.”
“There are warriors in this haven,” Rhys said quietly. “Legendary heroes.”
Sari let out a long breath. “Wow. That is… bold.”
Meera knew enough about how Rhys’s mind worked to imagine what he was thinking. “You’re suggesting we somehow tell Bozidar that the Painted Wolf—the last warrior of the Uwachi Toma—is here and… what? Use her as bait?”
“I could tell him,” Vasu said. “I’d be happy to tell him.”
Meera rounded on Vasu. “Is this why you’ve been poking your nose in all this? Because you’ve been wanting to draw Bozidar into a fight?”
“Bozidar is a vile, ugly creature with a self-inflated sense of his own importance,” Vasu said. “He engenders no love anywhere, not even among his allies. They are squabbling, petty, power-hungry sycophants with no higher purpose than the satisfaction of their own squalid appetites.”
Roch said, “So… he’s an angel.”
The Fallen grew several feet, his presence filling the room as power poured off him. “Are you comparingmeto Bozidar? My people once worshipped me as agod. Do you know who I am?”
Well, Meera thought,this has the potential to get very ugly.
“I know who you are,” Rhys said. “You’re a Fallen with vendettas and no army. How did Bozidar offend you, Vasu? What made you decide to use Meera and her family for your own twisted purposes?”
“She was mine before she was yours, scribe.”
“I don’tbelongto either of you, so stop fighting.” Meera stepped between Rhys and Vasu. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
The room was silent. Not even the angel spoke.
It didn’t matter. Meera looked at Vasu with no illusions. She knew he wasn’t her ally or protector. That role belonged to the man at her back who was fighting for her at that very moment. Rhys was her ally. Rhys was her protector.
Vasu was… Vasu. It was entirely probable that herreshonwas correct. Vasu had drawn this attention. Vasu had caused this conflict.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. The angel was coming and he had Havre Hélène in his sights. “Vasu, am I correct that you think you can draw Bozidar to the haven? You and he are clearly not friends.”
