it’s a place to start.”
“Good. Why did you participate in the dance tonight?”
“To impress the youngsters so they’ll try harder.”
“That’s not the only reason. Rule danced, too, and neither of you usually does.”
His mouth curved up a fraction. “You’re perceptive. It’s annoying at times. Very well. I also sent a message. I’m not speaking to my brother, but I fully support my Lu Nuncio. It was best everyone understood that.”
So his problem with Rule was personal, not a “good of the clan” thing. “You think they’ll get that message from the dance?”
His eyebrows lifted about a millimeter. “Of course.”
Hmm . “Well, it made for a fantastic show. But how in the world did you end it that way? Even if you’re strong enough to just stop Cullen one-handed, it seems like you’d break a few bones—his, yours, both.”
“For someone who isn’t combat-trained, Seabourne’s a—”
Half the mage lights bobbing overhead went out.
Benedict’s head whipped up. Without a gesture or word or a single damned clue what was wrong, he took off running.
When Benedict moved, people got out of his way. Fast. She couldn’t come close to keeping up, but by putting everything she had into her sprint she managed to catch the openings in the crowd he created.
People called out. The music died. She lost the Benedict-driven opening and was faced with a wall of bare backs. She resorted to shoving. This crowd wouldn’t care about her badge, and she had to get through.
Rule was ahead. She felt him. Something had happened, something had gone wrong—
“Nokolai!” Isen’s deep voice bellowed. “If you are not a guard, sit down! Now!”
All over the field, they dropped. Men and women alike—even children—they all sat on the grass as their Rho had commanded. No questions, no hesitation.
Except Lily. She was Nokolai and technically not a guard, but it didn’t occur to her to sit. Not when the way was suddenly clear. Not when she could see over the heads of those in front of her.
Several hadn’t dropped to the ground. Guards. Benedict, of course, wasn’t sitting. He stood beside Isen, his eyes busy and his Glock in his hand. But he had nothing to shoot.
And Rule. He wasn’t standing, but kneeling, kneeling next to a man stretched out in the grass. At first all she saw of that man were the legs, bare like most legs tonight. The rest of him was hidden by Cynna’s crimson-clad back, bent over him, and by the woman kneeling beside her, whom Lily recognized by the hair—long, dusty gray mixed with brown, a frizzy, flya way mane trailing to her waist.
Nettie, the clan’s healer.
Lily’s feet carried her two more steps at an angle, and she saw the rest. Saw Cullen Seabourne’s body lying peacefully in the grass, his still, empty face staring up at the starry sky.
SIX
“YOU are not dead,” Cynna was saying fiercely, her hands digging into Cullen’s shoulders. “You are not. You are not dead. Dammit, Cullen, you—”
“I’ve got him,” Nettie said crisply. She’d flattened her hands on Cullen’s chest. “Cynna, get back. You’re leaking. It interferes.”
Lily couldn’t feel her feet. She was standing, so they must still be there at the end of her legs, but she couldn’t feel them. Her last breath had pulled something bad inside her, unreality spreading like poison through her body, paralyzing her. No , she wanted to say along with Cynna. No, he can’t be dead. Cullen can’t be—
Cullen’s chest quivered. It lifted, ever so slightly, then fell. His eyelids drifted closed.
Lily sucked in a breath, too. This one dispelled the poison and she hurried to Cynna. “Come on, Cynna. Move back. Let Nettie work. You’re right. You’re right, he isn’t dead, but you have to move back.”
He wasn’t dead now . Seconds ago, he had been. Or at least he hadn’t been breathing. An atavistic shiver threw goose bumps along Lily’s arms. She pulled on Cynna, who allowed it,
“Good. Why did you participate in the dance tonight?”
“To impress the youngsters so they’ll try harder.”
“That’s not the only reason. Rule danced, too, and neither of you usually does.”
His mouth curved up a fraction. “You’re perceptive. It’s annoying at times. Very well. I also sent a message. I’m not speaking to my brother, but I fully support my Lu Nuncio. It was best everyone understood that.”
So his problem with Rule was personal, not a “good of the clan” thing. “You think they’ll get that message from the dance?”
His eyebrows lifted about a millimeter. “Of course.”
Hmm . “Well, it made for a fantastic show. But how in the world did you end it that way? Even if you’re strong enough to just stop Cullen one-handed, it seems like you’d break a few bones—his, yours, both.”
“For someone who isn’t combat-trained, Seabourne’s a—”
Half the mage lights bobbing overhead went out.
Benedict’s head whipped up. Without a gesture or word or a single damned clue what was wrong, he took off running.
When Benedict moved, people got out of his way. Fast. She couldn’t come close to keeping up, but by putting everything she had into her sprint she managed to catch the openings in the crowd he created.
People called out. The music died. She lost the Benedict-driven opening and was faced with a wall of bare backs. She resorted to shoving. This crowd wouldn’t care about her badge, and she had to get through.
Rule was ahead. She felt him. Something had happened, something had gone wrong—
“Nokolai!” Isen’s deep voice bellowed. “If you are not a guard, sit down! Now!”
All over the field, they dropped. Men and women alike—even children—they all sat on the grass as their Rho had commanded. No questions, no hesitation.
Except Lily. She was Nokolai and technically not a guard, but it didn’t occur to her to sit. Not when the way was suddenly clear. Not when she could see over the heads of those in front of her.
Several hadn’t dropped to the ground. Guards. Benedict, of course, wasn’t sitting. He stood beside Isen, his eyes busy and his Glock in his hand. But he had nothing to shoot.
And Rule. He wasn’t standing, but kneeling, kneeling next to a man stretched out in the grass. At first all she saw of that man were the legs, bare like most legs tonight. The rest of him was hidden by Cynna’s crimson-clad back, bent over him, and by the woman kneeling beside her, whom Lily recognized by the hair—long, dusty gray mixed with brown, a frizzy, flya way mane trailing to her waist.
Nettie, the clan’s healer.
Lily’s feet carried her two more steps at an angle, and she saw the rest. Saw Cullen Seabourne’s body lying peacefully in the grass, his still, empty face staring up at the starry sky.
SIX
“YOU are not dead,” Cynna was saying fiercely, her hands digging into Cullen’s shoulders. “You are not. You are not dead. Dammit, Cullen, you—”
“I’ve got him,” Nettie said crisply. She’d flattened her hands on Cullen’s chest. “Cynna, get back. You’re leaking. It interferes.”
Lily couldn’t feel her feet. She was standing, so they must still be there at the end of her legs, but she couldn’t feel them. Her last breath had pulled something bad inside her, unreality spreading like poison through her body, paralyzing her. No , she wanted to say along with Cynna. No, he can’t be dead. Cullen can’t be—
Cullen’s chest quivered. It lifted, ever so slightly, then fell. His eyelids drifted closed.
Lily sucked in a breath, too. This one dispelled the poison and she hurried to Cynna. “Come on, Cynna. Move back. Let Nettie work. You’re right. You’re right, he isn’t dead, but you have to move back.”
He wasn’t dead now . Seconds ago, he had been. Or at least he hadn’t been breathing. An atavistic shiver threw goose bumps along Lily’s arms. She pulled on Cynna, who allowed it,
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