Page 18 of The Mountain King
“Ma…” Persia hesitated. “What about bystanders? Everyone always comes to watch the airbus dock. And the vendors.”
“I know, but if we wait for him to get into position, we’ll be at a disadvantage. He’ll be returning with more men and more firearms.”
Serephone’s mouth thinned. “Warn everyone there might be fireworks. Tell vendors to come armed. Might be on our side. No one likes a trafficker.”
No. But no one had the nerve to organize an offensive, either. Everyone was afraid of the repercussions if it did turn out he was backed by a patron in Seattle. But the time for fear was over. It wasn’t just traveling working girls Ruthus snatched now. He was upgrading.
Kai sighed, feeling a moment of shame. She hadn’t cared—enough—about the missing saloon women before. She’d had her own daughters to see to, and no desire to get involved in a mess that would bring attention to them. Maybe if she had, maybe if they’d been less selfish, it wouldn’t have come to this.
“Spread the word, quietly,” she said. “Use the telegraph, don’t go into town unless you must. And don’t go alone and for Stones’ sake, sneak. Maddugh thinks he can keep us all wrapped in wool.”
Persia snorted.
* * *
She was walkingthrough the gardens again, attempting to ignore the itching in her fingers—some of the plants were just not well cared for at all, and Kailigh’s natural affinity for green things screamed at her to do something about it. She paused in front of a rose bush. It wasn’t like Maddugh would be upset by a little harmless gardening. She reached out a hand, sparks of energy flowing to her fingertips, and caressed a velvety petal.
A man coughed behind her. Kailigh jumped, whirling, a curse on her lips. “Steam and Stones, make some noise when you walk!” How the hell could anyone move that quietly? She hadn’t even sensed he was near.
Amnan regarded her, impassive. “Apologies. I forgot human women are easily frightened.”
Is that what the boy thought? She crossed her arms. “Yeah? Well, what’s your business, then?”
“My father asked me to make you aware of the arrangements for this evening.”
Arrangements? “And?”
“There will be a faire to honor you and your daughters. An introduction to our town, with vendors and dancing.”
“Piss poor timing.” She needed to go hunting, not chaperone her daughters at a dance. Ruthus was out there, and needed to be dealt with permanently.
His brow creased briefly. “I don’t know the term.”
“It means—never mind. So, he wants to parade us around, huh? Who’s invited?”
“It will be held in the town square, so anyone who would like to make your acquaintance, may do so.”
Of course. Her mood soured, a bit. “I wish I’d known his Lordship’s plans ahead of times. I would have packed the girls some nicer clothing.”
He shrugged. “That is nothing. I’ll have a woman of the house choose some dresses from the stores in town.”
Kailigh frowned. “I’d rather do it myself. I’m on a budget, and I know best what suits my girls.”
Amnan looked annoyed. “Your budget is irrelevant; the clothing will be a gift from my father. Tell the woman what you want and she will bring back several options. I’m sure there will be something suitable to choose from.”
He didn’t sound ready to budge, and she wanted to choose her battles anyway. “Fine. Will your Da be explaining to the townsfolk the consequences of being overeager to make the acquaintance of my girls?”
Forest eyes gleamed, with anger or humor she couldn’t quite tell. “None of my people would touch a woman against her will. But it will be made known you are all under the protection of my house. Any who offends you will be dealt with severely.”
Truth rang in his voice. Between the oath and her own faith in both her blades and those of her daughters, she was mollified.
“All right then.” Kailigh paused. “Just so you know—I would be happy if my daughters found good providers to wed. In time. So, I won’t stand in the way of any respectable male with a good living who presents himself properly. The girls may be a bit more resistant— they’re younger, and more idealistic about love and such things.” She snorted.
His brow rose. “And you, mistress? You count yourself too old for love?”
She waved a hand. “Love is a safe home to raise your children in, a father who doesn’t beat them, and food on the table three times a day. My babies are grown, so I have very little use for such things at my age.”
“Interesting.”
