Page 31 of The Seeker
What on earth? It was clear Maarut and Patiala weren’t overprotective of Meera if they let her live in New Orleans on her own. Why did Meera’s mother care whom she worked with?
“Do you at least know where Meera lives?”
The scent of Maarut’s magic changed and an aggressive note filled the courtyard. He was no longer smiling. “Why do you ask?”
“Because the scribes at the house here have no idea. I have no idea. I’d like to be sure at leastsomeoneknows where she is living if there’s a threat. She seems to have no sense of self-preservation at all.”
Maarut’s magic dropped back to an easy tenor. “You are… not what I expected. It’s certainly not obvious what she was thinking, but this may work after all.”
“You’re being cryptic on purpose now.”
“I know.” Maarut gestured to Rhys’s face. “I quite enjoy that tic you get near your eye. It’s amusing.”
“Maarut—”
“Don’t worry. I know where Meera lives because I listen to her. But trust me, despite what her mother and you think, she has more of a sense of self-preservation than anyone you know. And plenty of ways to protect herself. Goodbye.”
The scribe’s magic eased to almost nothing. The essence of it dissipated, and the humans wandered back to the courtyard as Maarut left by the garden gate.
“You’re right,”Rhys said to Zep the following night. “Meera’s father is… how did you put it? A scary fucker.”
“Right?” Zep laughed. “I nearly pissed my pants the first time I met the man.”
They were walking down Bourbon Street, but despite the hubbub and confusion, neither of them had sensed any Grigori. They’d caught the scent of sandalwood on one corner, but it had simply been a smoke shop, not any supernatural predators.
“You know,” Zep continued, “I thought a warrior who’d follow his mate into a haven would be…”
“What?”
“I don’t know.” Zep shrugged. “A little softer? Wanting to hide away like that, abandon your house, you’d have to be a little softer, right?”
“Not if you had a mate or children to protect.”You immature idiot.
Zep said, “I guess.”
Rhys tried not to overreact. He’d run into Zep’s attitude before, the idea that living in the scribe houses and fighting Grigori was somehow more important than guarding women and children.
“If I were running from Grigori and felt targeted as the Irina did,” Rhys said, “I have a feeling I’d feel very safe with a scribe like Maarut protecting my haven. And trust me, Irina warriors are plenty scary on their own. We have more than one living in the Istanbul scribe house.”
“I heard that.” Zep smiled. “I’d like to see a few more here. See a few more kickass ladies.”
I’m sure you would.
“And Meera’s dad? He’s all right. If I had a daughter, I’d be protective too.”
Rhys stopped dead in his tracks on the sidewalk. A tourist bumped into his shoulder and cursed under his breath, but Rhys didn’t move.
“If the heir of Anamitra speaks, the whole world listens. But I am speaking of my daughter.”
Gabriel’s fist, hewasan idiot. Maarut hadn’t visited him the previous day because he’d been asking questions about the heir of Anamitra. He’d been questioning the man who was spending time with hisdaughter.
“I know where Meera lives because I listen to her.”
He listened to his daughter, the woman behind the legacy. The woman who loved color and music and life beyond fortress walls. Rhys thought about where he’d run into Meera and where she’d found him. Thought about tiny clues she’d dropped and directions she looked when she wasn’t paying attention to who was watching her.
Then he smiled. “Zep, you don’t need me here do you?”
Zep shrugged. “Not if you’ve got things to do.”
