She gave me a wan smile and then stopped, her eyes on me when she lifted her head, full of pain. “I adore you.”
“Rightbackatcha,” I said, waggling my eyebrows at her before I let her go, took two steps down and bent forward.
“What’s happening right now?”
“I think you’re gonna pass out, so I’d rather have you on my back than over my shoulder.”
“You can’t carry me.”
“You weigh nothing,” I said flatly. “The heat from my back will help you, and you can talk in my ear if you don’t faint.”
“Why would I argue?”
“Well, your ass is gonna be out for anyone to see once we finally get where we’re going.”
“And you’re going to have my lady parts on your bare skin.”
“Ewww.”
“Please don’t make me laugh; I don’t have the energy.”
Once she was draped over my back, arms over my shoulders, legs wrapped around my waist, I got us moving. I told her that, interestingly enough, whoever was currently trying to kill me was not the first.
“Who else was trying to kill you?” she asked irritably. “And why didn’t you tell me? My God, man, you should come with a warning label.”
She wasn’t wrong.
As I climbed, I told her about Niko Gann and how he’d tried to kill me in New Orleans.
“I wonder if him trying to kill you has anything to do with who’s trying to kill you now.”
“Maybe I should talk to him.”
“He’s here?”
“Yeah. He was brought to stand trial. The king’s supposed to decide what to do with him. Maybe once we’re warm, we can pay him a visit?”
“We?”
“Well, we’re detectives now, aren’t we?”
She grunted.
“No?”
“I just want a warm shower and blood and to sleep for a week.”
I couldn’t fault her plan; except I could really go for a roast beef sandwich, of all things.
There was a fork, and we went right, which to me didn’t make sense, but after more stairs, we literally hit a wall.
“What now?”
She slid down off my back and felt around for a few moments before she pushed, and then, because nothing happened, had me push and put my shoulder into it, and a panel of stone turned and we emerged on the ledge of an outdoor pool. It was so odd. On one side of the panel was ancient stone; on the other was mosaic tile inlaid with what Nerilla said was 24-karat gold.
Once we were through, I pushed it back, and it lined up seamlessly. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, there was no way to find that entrance.
Walking around the pool, we reached the marble floor and both stood there, under the moon and stars, soaking up the warm sea air.
“Oh thank God,” I gasped, the change in temperature putting goose bumps over every square inch of my body.
Nerilla fell into me, wrapped her arms around my waist, and I held her plastered to my chest as I checked my phone that, gloriously, had a signal.
“Jason!” Tiago barked into the phone. “Where––”
“We’re in the king’s grotto?” I said in question, and Nerilla nodded into my chest. “Yeah, we’re in the king’s grotto by his very frou-frou pool. Could you come here, and bring Hadrian and blankets?”
“What?”
“And one of those bottles of blood for Nerilla.”
“Jason,” he rasped, “what happened?”
“Could you hurry?”
“Yes,” he whispered, and I could tell he was scared. “I will be right there, my consort.”
And maybe he was more than scared, since he’d never used my title before.
When I hung up the phone, I hugged Nerilla. “Are we safe here? Can anybody else follow us through that opening?”
“This is sacred ground,” she told me. “Anyone who isn’t royal, or invited by a royal, is dead if they’re found here.”
“That’s great,” I stated, walking us over to an enormous marble bench, having Nerilla sit on my lap instead of putting her bare ass on the stone. “So we can just sit here.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “we can just––”
And really, it was very thoughtful of her to wait until right then to faint dead away.
I must have dozed, because the lights, so many of them, turning on at once, startled me awake. The area that had been, only a bit ago, shadowed and dark, calm, serene, and warm, was suddenly flooded by what seemed like the sun.
Varic was there, the first one I saw, rushing across the open area, stopping a few feet away, staring, eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, looking utterly stricken.
I reached for him.
He was there fast, sitting down beside me on the bench, taking my face in his hands so tenderly, as though I were breakable. His face held only pain, and it wasn’t smoothing out, still tightened in warring emotions I couldn’t read.
“I’m okay,” I told him.
“Oh,” Tiago barely got out, there close, holding a heavy blanket.
“Take her,” Varic commanded under his breath.
Hadrian was near, and he bent toward me, but I tucked Nerilla closer. “Who’s gonna watch over her?” I asked Varic. “Even though we figured it out, and we’re pretty sure that she was used as bait to get to me, somebody could still try and hurt her.”
Hadrian cleared his throat, and when I turned to look at him, Varic’s hands fell away, and I saw another man beside him, just as big as Hadrian, just as heavily muscled, standing there looking like he was having a hard time keeping it together.
“This is Jarah,” Hadrian told me, his voice softer, lower than I’d ever heard it before, taking a breath, swallowing, his eyes, I noticed, looking like he was about to cry, which made absolutely no sense at all. “He is hendr of the household of––”
“Her champion, right?” I asked, smiling up at him, and then turning to Jarah. “Are you her champion, her guardian?”
“I am,” he said gruffly, “though I have failed miserably in my duties this night.”
“Oh no, don’t beat yourself up; it would have been hard to prevent,” I explained to him, trying to lower my voice, hearing that it was louder than I wanted and that I was talking faster than normal. “It happened so fast. I mean, one second we were almost back to the ballroom, and the next, some guys grabbed her and took her through a door. It was nuts.” I exhaled, liking the look of him, how strong he was. He’d make sure nothing happened to her. “That area where the thralls are is scary as hell.”
Tiago gasped from behind me, Hadrian jerked like he’d been hit, and the look on Jarah’s face—revulsion and fear, both at the same time—was hard to see.
I turned to Varic, and his eyes were closed, not moving, still, like a statue. The only thing that let me know he was alive were his slow, steady in-and-out breaths. In through his nose, out through his nose, over and over.
“My consort.”
I turned my attention back to Jarah.
He cleared his throat, took a shallow breath, and then his lips parted as a slight tremble ran through his powerful frame. “Was the princess––”