A moment later, somebody wrested him clear and dragged him into a bruising hug. He recognized Dom’s voice before Slay even glimpsed his face. “You could’ve let me know you were coming! I’m so glad you’re safe, the way we left things—”
“Can’t breathe,” he wheezed.
When Dom let go, he saw that his best friend looked a hell of a lot better than he had when he first came back from the seer’s retreat, no longer gaunt and haunted. And Slay wasn’t mad at him anymore. In fact, when he remembered how they’d fought, Slay figured that he should apologize. Now wasn’t the time, though; they could get a drink later.
Finally, he’d had enough of the crowded, impromptu welcome party. “We’ll talk more later, okay? We traveled light, so we need to buy some things.”
“Understood. Glad you’re back, brother.”
Don’t know if I’m staying—oh, right. Quickly he relayed the news about the election and passed on Chantisse’s message about wanting to sign the Pax Protocols.
Dom grinned when he finished. “Look at you, doing diplomacy.”
“Thanks, I hate it.” Raising his voice, he called, “Ro! Where are you?”
“I don’t want to intrude,” she said.
Despite looking in all directions, Slay couldn’t find her in the crowd, and he was about to start yelling when Dom gestured. People parted like magic to reveal Ro hanging back. Slay almost melted at her shy sweetness; he went straight to her side and wrapped an arm around her, guiding her away from the scrum without another look.
“Shall we? I was promised the endless excitement of watching you try on clothes.”
“That sounds fun to you?” she asked, seeming startled.
Slay smiled. “If you’re with me, it’ll be perfect.”
27.
Ro recalled the bombing of Ash Valley more than how pretty had it been before.
They’d rebuilt almost everything, and the shopping plaza looked as if it hadn’t been damaged much. She spun in a slow circle, marveling at the array of clothes—bright colors, an amazing variety of fabrics and style choices. There was so much to explore that she didn’t even know where to look first.
“See anything you like?” Slay asked.
“Lots of things. Where does it all come from?”
Slay seemed to know what she was worried about. “None of it’s from Golgerra.”
Rowena smiled. “I’m so glad. But I don’t want to—”
“Don’t worry about spending my money,” he cut in.
For Ro, it was like a holiday, trying on clothes while Slay sprawled in a chair near the fitting rooms, eyeing her up and down with lazy, heated appreciation. Honestly, the whole endeavor felt like foreplay, and she ended up with two bags of new clothes along with a collapsible pack to carry them in. It might not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but she’d never worn anything that she picked out before, never considered her favorite colors either.
“I like blue,” she said, pleating the fabric of the floaty dress she’d chosen to wear out of the store. It had a silvery pattern on the cloth, traceries of ivy or flower petals barely visible unless it caught the light and draped her body soft as a caress. She beamed as she twirled.
“You look fantastic,” Slay said with an appreciative gleam in his golden eyes.
“Thank you. I love it.”
“No need to thank me. This is the most fun I’ve had since before the war. Are we done?” He gestured toward the courtyard. “I’m curious to see what’s up at my place after all this time.”
Ro loved how Slay always took her hand; it seemed like instinct to him at this point. She squeezed his fingers and swung her arm as they stepped out of the shopping plaza, so different from the marketplaces in Golgerra. Here there were separate stores, everything shiny and glass instead of stone.
“I heard you were back.”
Ro surveyed the woman who had spoken, short and curvy with dark auburn hair and a lot of freckles. She seemed warm and friendly, but on second glance, there was definite tension in the way she held herself. In the undercity, Ro had learned to read the guards, determine their moods with one glimpse; it was a survival skill down there, but it often proved useful elsewhere. This woman’s expression—compressed mouth, a pinched line between her brows—suggested that she didn’t know how Slay would greet her.
“There’s no need for a news service,” he said with a half-smile. “Word of mouth works so damn fast.”
“Would’ve been even quicker if Joss wasn’t at Burnt Amber. Did you know? She’s mated to Callum McCrae now, if you can imagine.”
Slay stared, apparently rendered speechless for a few seconds. “Isn’t he a monk?”
“Used to be. Joss wants what she wants, you know how she is.” The woman shrugged, seeming equal measures amused and exasperated by the person they were discussing.
He let out of a soft chuckle and some of the tension dispersed, at least from Ro’s perspective. “Hell yeah I do. There’s no stopping her.”
“I’m glad you’re safe,” the woman said quietly. “We missed you.”
“Yeah?” Slay didn’t sound sure of that.
“Would it be awkward if we hugged?” she asked.
After a brief hesitation, he answered, “It would be weirder if we didn’t.”
Ro had an odd feeling as Slay wrapped his arms around this woman. Suddenly she remembered where she’d seen this lady. She had presided over various events with Dominic Asher, and if she was Dominic’s mate, that meant she was the person who’d broken Slay’s heart. Fortunately for Rowena’s peace of mind, Slay didn’t linger over the embrace.
When he stepped back, he pulled Rowena forward, settling the sting in her heart. “This is Rowena. You might’ve met her during the conclave. She was part of Alastor’s honor guard.”
“You’re on first name terms with the Golgoth prince now?” the woman asked.
“Alastor doesn’t use his title anymore,” Rowena said.
“This is Pru Bristow. Or is it Asher now?” Slay didn’t sound heartbroken, merely curious, but this whole encounter made Ro feel twitchy, like maybe she should lick him to establish that he was hers now.
He is, right?
“I did a hyphen. Nice to meet you,” Pru said.
Suddenly, Ro flashed on a moment of epiphany and she could’ve hugged Pru in gratitude. Words bubbled in her throat, dying to be spoken, but Slay responded first. “Evidently I should’ve introduced her as Pru Bristow-Asher.” In a softer tone he added, “My first love.”
I’ll be his last.
Rowena offered her hand and shook Pru’s with real appreciation. “Thank you for loving him. And…thank you for leaving him.”
The other woman blinked. Probably this wasn’t good etiquette, but she hadn’t learned manners in the undercity. Rather, she’d learned to survive all costs.
“Excuse me?” Pru said.
“I mean it. If you hadn’t, there wouldn’t be any space for me now. So thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
“No…problem?” Pru didn’t seem sure what her response ought to be here.