Page 48 of Guardians of the Assassins
But she sucked it up and pulled up her big girl panties.
It was her they wanted.
She had to trust the fae would honor the rules of hospitality and not try to kill them.
She turned toward Atlas and Caedmon. “Let’s do this.”
They each grabbed a hold of her arm, like they expected her to change her mind. Her skin tingled at the contact, the intensity of their touch distracting her so much that her worries vanished as they hauled her all the way up the stairs.
A knock on the door sent her heart thudding against her ribs, the ominous sound ringing in her ears, and she glanced over her shoulder, even as the guys pulled her down the hall.
She dug in her feet, but they shoved her into the war room before she could tell them that splitting up was a horrible idea. Before she could open her mouth, she was distracted by the sight in front of her.
The war room had been transformed back into the ballroom once more, the space long and narrow. Most of the weapons had been removed so only the older ones remained, put on display like status symbols. An ancient long table sat in the middle of the room, big enough to seat thirty people.
Three chairs were on either side of the table—a larger, ornate one stood in the center, while two smaller, plain ones sat on either side. Directly behind the chairs on opposite sides of the room were two benches that rested against the wall, each with two metal wolves standing guard like bookends.
The wolves didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
To anyone who looked at them, they were nothing more than statues. The magic that clung to them was so light, she wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been looking for it.
Like her magic had infected them to a level that they were now sentient.
Just like the house.
Vines and plants decorated the room, climbing up the walls and stretching across the ceiling. The vegetation completely covered the second entrance to the room—an escape hatch, if needed. The beautiful foliage was breathtaking, not something a human would ever be able to duplicate. The riot of colors drew her gaze, and she’d swear the flowers were actually blooming even as she watched.
The room looked like something from another world.
As Caedmon led her toward the far side of the room, she chanced a glance at Atlas trailing behind them. “When did you have time to do this? It’s spectacular. Your abilities are incredible.”
The dark umber in his green eyes softened, a pleased smile curling his lips. His chin lifted as he preened under the praise, and damned if it wasn’t the most adorable thing that she’d ever seen.
Caedmon pulled out the middle chair, indicating she should sit. She tucked her dress behind her legs and settled herself carefully. “Who sits in the other two chairs?”
“The leader will sit in the middle.” Caedmon gently tucked the chair closer to the table. “The other two chairs are reserved for people of importance, depending on who they decide to bring, usually a mate or an advisor.”
Before they could say more, both men straightened and turned toward the door. Even the slightest hint of emotions melted away, and she realized just how much they had relaxed around her since she’d first met them. They came to stand behind her, each moving in unison as they lifted a hand to rest on the corner posts of the chair.
A claim of possession.
She just wasn’t sure if they were claiming her or if they were showing their guests that they belonged to her. Either was fine…even though her only claim to Caedmon was through the pack. The thought made the mark on her arm itch, and she rubbed the spot distractedly.
When the door opened, she deflated slightly when Arthur, Mistress McKay, and MacGregor scurried into the room. Mistress McKay was stunning, dressed in a gorgeous vintage evening gown of pure silver. The simple design had a dark silver underdress with a metallic, glittery tulle overlay. The tulle sleeves draped down to her elbows, while the tulle outer skirt seemed to float around her like a cloud.
MacGregor was dressed more formally than she’d ever seen, matching Mistress McKay with a silver shirt and darker metallic tie. He looked dapper, dressed in black pressed pants and vest, but that was the only thing tamed. His bushy white eyebrows dominated his face, his stark white hair looked like he’d stuck his hand in a socket. Wrinkles creased his face, his expression severe, but his sharp, faded blue eyes held an intelligence that eased the tight knot in her chest.
Like his presence alone would make everything okay.
Arthur stood behind him, and once again, she’d completely forgotten about his presence.
What the fucking hell?!
He dazzled, wearing a dark maroon suit with a black shirt and black tie, his form trim and fit. A silver pocket watch and chain with a tie clip finished off the outfit.
And damned if he didn’t look even younger, almost jovial as he surveyed the room.
Like he was having the time of his life.
