Cara's Twelve by Chantel Seabrook

greeted warmly by both. As expected, Theo and Arwel hovered behind him. The two men were never far from Edmund's side and attended to him with a reverence that Cara found disturbing. She wasn't the only one who was suspicious of Edmund and his henchmen. She had witnessed the uneasy conversations and skeptical looks from the other men. Edmund was dangerous enough alone, and Cara shivered inwardly at the thought of their combined ambitions.
    He had kept his distance since the assault, but she had caught him on numerous occasions watching her from the shadows, always with the same dark look and arrogant smile that made her flesh crawl.
    She had kept silent about her confrontation with Edmund. Other than Maeve, Reyn was the only one she trusted enough to tell, and at the moment, he had more important matters to worry about. Once they had secured Maeve's safety, she would figure out what to do about him.
    “Looks like our lone wolf is in one of his finer moods tonight,” Helfrich chuckled, nodding towards the back of the room.
    Cara scanned the crowd, and saw Tahdaon sitting, his back to the wall, arms crossed as he sneered at a servant that offered to fill his cup. Tahdaon scowled and said something that Cara assumed held a hint of threat, since the young man blanched and scurried away.
    Cara let out an exasperated breath.
    There were times when she had caught him watching her, but unlike Edmund's predatorial gaze, Tahdaon looked more like a wounded animal plotting his escape. Even now, he sat alone, blue eyes sober and watchful. She had tried to approach him, talk to him, but each time he had answered her questions with silence.
    Tahdaon's eyes darted suspiciously around the room until his gaze locked on hers. She swallowed hard at the pain and anger she saw etched on his face. Smiling, she nodded in acknowledgment, hoping to see something other than hostility in return. For a split second, his eyes softened, but he quickly looked away and his face was once again a mask of stoicism.
    She shook her head and sighed.
When will you see I am not your enemy?
She was probably fooling herself thinking she could crack through his icy exterior. The walls he had built around himself were impenetrable, and he was unwavering in his hostility.
    “The northerners have their reasons for being resentful,” Helfrich remarked. “But this one seems to have a personal grudge towards all of us.”
    Cara nodded in agreement. He had purposely ostracized himself from the other men, and his surly demeanor had done little to help his popularity.
    He was as imposing and lethal as any man she had ever met, and yet she didn't fear him.
    “Be patient with him Helfrich. He's angry, not dangerous.”
    Helfrich didn't look convinced.
    Cara gasped in surprise as Cush grabbed her by the waist and swung her around. “Dance with me Cara.”
    He was drunk. She could smell it on his breath. Efnisien, or Efy as the men had started calling him, had done his best over the past five days to corrupt the young Cuch with copious amounts of wine and spirits.
    From the corner of her eye, she saw the Queen watching with a disapproving frown.
    Cara took Cuch's hand and conceded with a laugh, “One dance.”
    He gave her a lopsided grin that never failed to charm her, and she allowed him to lead her around the room in a high energy jig that left her breathless. His brow was moist with perspiration and his eyes were glazed from drink, but Cara admitted that even despite his intoxicated state, he was still a good dancer.
    She allowed herself to enjoy the moment.
    As the music ended Cush led her back to Helfrich.
    “You're an imp, Cush,” Cara said still laughing.
    “Just don't tell my father,” he slurred, stumbling into her. Helfrich caught him before he could knock her over. Cush didn't seem to notice that Helfrich had placed himself as a shield between them as he continued his intoxicated rant. “I can't wait for you to meet my family. My mother's going to love