Page 50 of Guardians of the Assassins
And they weren’t happy.
Maybe they didn’t want to kill her before today, though she still suspected she was the true target, but that would change when she refused to let Caedmon go without a fight. She absently rubbed her arm at the possessive thought.
The fae had cast him aside over a millennia ago, sentencing him to a life in literal hell ever since. She’d saved him from that life and refused to let the very people who put him there get their hands on him again.
She very much feared he wouldn’t survive whatever they had planned for him next.
And that was completely unacceptable.
Not trusting the fae an inch, Morgan quickly began cataloging them as she would an adversary, trying to judge the biggest threat that needed to be eliminated first.
Their hair was a blinding silver, pulled back from their faces in a series of braids Morgan suspected meant rank or standing or something, but her knowledge and training regarding elves was seriously lacking. She cursed herself for not being better prepared.
They usually policed their own kind, few very rarely ever leaving Faerie.
Though they were supposed to turn over all their weapons at the door, she didn’t doubt that they’d held onto a few blades. Magic practically shimmered off them in waves, and she wasn’t sure if it was done as a show of power or if they just had so much that it couldn’t be contained.
She was betting it was a combination of the two.
The necklace around her neck warmed, then the metal spun and twisted, forming what felt like a tiny coat of arms with a fierce, snarling wolf in the center.
Morgan took that as a sign not to let down her guard.
It was letting her know that they weren’t alone.
The woman stepped forward, her imperial bearing making her look like she had something shoved up her ass. “I am Aoibh, high fae of the light from the House of Bláthnaid.”
She said it like her name meant something, like Morgan should know her.
The fae were created from hundreds of different species, the elves just a subset of it. Elves considered themselves superior to other races, more dominant.
Morgan was done with the bullshit and not so slight insults.
Maybe it was time they learned not everyone would bow down and kiss their asses.
“Well, I guess no introductions are needed, right?” Morgan flashed her an unrepentant smile, beyond furious that she would treat Atlas with such disrespect. “Nothing says welcome to the family more than your in-laws trying to murder you, I guess.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CAEDMON
Asigh came from behind Morgan, which could’ve come from any one of her men.
Unfortunately, her hunch didn’t pay off, the elves remaining impassive instead of confessing they were behind the deed.
Aoibh’s eyes flicked toward the silver crown woven into her hair. Surprise registered on her face for the first time, then her furious gaze swung toward Atlas, and a grimace of distaste twisting her features as she looked at him for the first time. “What did you do?”
The first thing out of her mouth wasn’t congratulations but an accusation.
Morgan barely resisted the urge to deck the bitch.
“I wish I could say that it’s good to see you again, Mother, but that would be a lie.” Atlas gave her a mocking smirk. “Our mating has been blessed by Faerie. No one can cast it asunder without Faerie demanding its price. Don’t you want to congratulate us?”
Even though it wasn’t directed at her, Morgan cringed at his mocking, icy tone.
He had reverted back to the cold-hearted prick thatshe’d first met.
That was until his hand came to rest on the small of her back.
