God Save the Queen

CHAPTER 13

THE PURE AND SIMPLE TRUTH IS RARELY PURE AND NEVER SIMPLEFor a moment I hoped I was in heaven – or wherever it is my kind go when death calls. I wanted to wake to peace and warmth in a place where trying to suss out what I was didn’t get people killed, and I didn’t get shot by mental-arse humans.

Instead I opened my eyes and discovered that I was in hospital. The flimsy little gown they’d put me in had tiny pink piggies on it. My first thought was that I had to have been in bad shape to be admitted. My second, I’m ashamed to admit, was whether or not they’d let me take the nightie home with me.

“It’s about f*cking time,” growled a voice to my right.

I turned my head with a smile. Vex rose from a chair beside my bed. He was still in his evening clothes, though his cravat hung loose about his neck. He looked tired, drawn and terribly gorgeous.

“Heaven’s better than I imagined,” I told him, my voice a rasp. I took back what I’d thought earlier about him contemplating killing me. There was no faking how wrecked he looked at that moment. It was as comforting as it was terrifying.

“Don’t even joke,” he chastised me, taking a cup of water from the nightstand and holding it for me to take a sip. “You scared the f*cking fur out of me tonight. If it wasn’t for the gobs …” He stopped, expression grim.

I had a fuzzy memory of the prince finding me. I thought I was going to be served on toast. “If it wasn’t for the gobs, what?”

He shook his head. “They saved you. I don’t know how they did it, but they kept you from dying with a fifty-calibre silver bullet in your chest, and tetracycline in your system.”

“Halvies aren’t frail, Vex.”

“Your heart stopped.” His face was ashen now. “I was there. Your heart stopped and there was so much blood. The prince took you and made your heart beat again.”

I stared at him. “You were there?” Wrong detail to get hung up on, but I didn’t want to think about how close I’d come to dying. And I didn’t want to think about the debt I now owed the prince.

“Aye.” His expression told me it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss.

I swallowed, and tasted something unfamiliar in the back of my throat – like a memory on my tongue. My stomach clenched, not because it was unpleasant, but because I had an awful feeling I knew just how the goblin prince had saved me.

“What were you thinking, going after the shooter alone?” demanded Vex, so angry I could practically feel the heat of it on my cheeks.

“My job,” I replied, shifting against the pillows. I winced – the entire left side of my torso felt like it had been pounded, ripped apart and set on fire, which I supposed it had. “Why did you chase after me?”

“If the situation were reversed, wouldn’t you run after me?”

He had a point, but I was the one trained for this sort of thing. “You could have been hurt.”

His rugged features twisted in annoyance. “Please. If I hadn’t followed you, you wouldn’t be here. The prince wouldn’t have given you to anyone else.”

“Why not?” The tunnel had to have been swimming with halvies by that time.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Xandra, you were shot from behind.”

Fang me and chew the wound. “I was shot by an RG? But I’d be certain the bullet had been silver. You’ve got to be joking.” When I saw that he wasn’t, “Who? Which bastard fired without being certain I was clear?”

Vex shrugged. “They don’t know. No one’s owned up to firing before they had a visual on the bastard, and once they did, they put more holes in him than a f*cking lace doily.”

I ignored his antiquated comparison. “No one admitted to it?” No, I suppose no one would want that on their record, or the suspension that would come with it.

He took my hand in one of his. His fingers were so warm I almost sighed in bliss. Thank God for whatever meds they’d pumped into me, because right now I was just relaxed enough that hysteria couldn’t take hold.

He looked me dead in the eye, and made sure I was paying attention before he spoke. “I don’t think it was an accident.”

It was ludicrous. Ridiculous. Paranoid. And if it wasn’t for Simon’s death – murder – I would have laughed it off as impossible. But my life had been turned upside bloody down the past few weeks and I’d be mental to say anything was impossible at this point. A fortnight ago I would have claimed my mother being alive was impossible.

“Xandra?”

I glanced up. Vex wore a slightly pained expression. “What is it?”

“I think you just broke one of my fingers.”

I immediately let go, staring at his hand in horror as I eased my grip. I’d left white marks on his skin, and his left ring finger was bent at a strange angle.

“Bloody hell,” I whispered. “Vex, I’m so sorry.”

He popped the bone back in place with little more than a grimace. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.” His grey gaze locked with mine once again, but there was something in his eyes I couldn’t name. “I didn’t know halvies were so strong.”

“I didn’t either,” I replied. In fact I was certain I shouldn’t have been able to hurt a were like that. Human bones were different; they were brittle compared to an aristo’s. “Vex, what the ruddy hell is wrong with me?”

He took my hand again – brave man. “I don’t know, but we’ll find out.”

Since I’d first started to “forget” to take my supplements I’d noticed more and more changes. Humans hadn’t smelled like food before that. Everything felt … sharper.

Now I fancied I could hear nurses talking at their station, their voices low. I could smell the stale scent of piss from a long-ago patient beneath layers of cleaning fluids and disinfectants used in this room. And from where I lay, I could look up at Vex and count the dark individual lengths of his eyelashes.

The blood I was uncomfortably certain the prince had given me could account for some of that, but I’d noticed changes before tonight. What if the supplements that were supposed to keep me healthy, dampen those vampiric urges, suppressed the parts of me that were unusual? Ophelia had told me as much. What if I, like Vex’s son, leaned more toward an aristo genetic code than normal? It would explain my reaction to tetracycline.

“You’re going to be all right,” Vex told me. Coming from him it really did sound like a promise rather than a trite remark to make me feel better.

I pulled off a weak smile. “I suppose if I was well and truly buggered I would have found out long before this, wouldn’t I?”

His eyes sparkled. “Before you reached the advanced age of two and twenty? I expect so.”

“You must think I’m such a child.” I couldn’t even say it was the drugs talking, because those were pretty much gone. I suppose I was feeling a little sorry for myself, as well as sore.

“Yes,” he agreed with a mocking frown. “Because pain makes most people behave in a mature and rational manner.”

I flushed. I’m such an idiot at times. “You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t.” He leaned down and kissed me. Even his lips seemed incredibly warm. “I think you’re adorable – in a completely mature and aged way.”

It hurt to laugh, but I needed the release. I was still chuckling – and groaning – when the nurse came in.

“Time for your medicine,” she remarked, holding up a needle. If that was for pain, I was glad of it. I’d never hurt like this before, and rest would only help me heal faster.

As though reading my thoughts, Vex gave my hand another squeeze. “I’m going to go. You get some rest and I’ll be back later.”

“Good,” I said. He kissed me again, nodded at the nurse and left.

The nurse smiled at me. “He’s a fine one.”

“Mm,” I agreed. “I think so.”

She came closer and slipped the tip of the needle into the small port on the IV attached to my arm. That was when I noticed the salt-water blue peeking out from beneath her green hair. I looked past the glasses on her nose and the dark hue of her skin. The glasses were just that – plain glass – and the warm honey tone of her skin was purely cosmetic. She was also wearing coloured contact lenses, but her nose was almost exactly like mine.

I grabbed her by the front of her uniform and hauled her against the rail along the side of my bed, my battered insides screaming in protest.

“What the f*ck are you doing here?” I demanded around clenched teeth.

Ophelia pushed against my fist. “Let go of me, freak. I’m here to help you. This needle has Prometheus Protein in it.”

I could feel her heart hammering against my fist. She was afraid – maybe of me, or maybe of getting caught, but it was enough for me to let her go.

“Why would I need your help?” I asked, suspicious, peevish as she depressed the plunger. By injecting me with the protein responsible for the aristo mutation, she would essentially jack my body into healing itself. The hospital staff had probably given me a watered-down version – the legal dose – already, but a concentrated shot would only make me heal all the faster.

Though there was a chance it would also make the differences in me that much more pronounced.

“Because you’re not safe here,” she hissed, casting a glance towards the door. Then she turned to me with a shake of her head. “I still can’t believe you’re shagging the alpha.”

“Why?” She didn’t have to sound so freaking surprised. “Did you think your liege had better taste in women?”

“No, I thought it went against your vampire-loving sensibilities.” She wiped the now empty syringe with the edge of my sheet and tossed it in the sharps bin. No prints. Clever. “What’s your precious Churchill have to say about it?”

“My personal life is no more Church’s business than it is yours,” I retorted, though she had struck a nerve. Everyone, even the general populace, seemed to have an opinion on my private concerns.

“I wonder what Vex sees in you?” she mused with a smirk. “I suppose it’s your feral nature.”

I glared at her. “F*ck off.”

My back ached and itched – the shot she’d given me was working already, forcing my battered body to repair itself. “What is it to you anyway? Jealous?”

The mockery in her eyes faded. “He’s a good man. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

I met her gaze. If I could beat her senseless with my eyes I would, but she was sincere in her concern for Vex. She’d probably known Duncan. “Neither do I.”

“Then we don’t have a problem.” Her smile was mockingly sweet. “Word from our human connections is that tonight’s attack on Victoria was a hired hit.”

“And?” I asked, knowing from the gleam in her eye that there was more.

She lowered her head to whisper near my ear. “Hired by an aristo.”

I froze. I think my heart might have stopped for a second. I turned my head so that we were practically nose to nose. “You believe this?”

“I do. They wouldn’t have told us at all, except the assassin was killed. And you got shot.”

I snorted. “As if they care what happens to a stinking halvie.”

Was that pity in her blue eyes? “There was only one intended target, Xandra, and it wasn’t you. That you put yourself in front of that bullet makes you honourable, whether human, halvie or aristo.”

Her words caught me so far off guard, the only expression I could muster was a scowl. “I did my job, that’s it.”

A teasing glint brightened her eyes. “Look at you, all humble and annoyed. You’ll be famous when the morning rags come out.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I supposed taking a bullet for one’s sovereign was newsworthy. Fang me. I was not looking forward to this.

“Good PR for the RGs,” Ophelia remarked. “Mayhap you’ll get a promotion.”

My heart jumped at the thought. “Is there something else you wanted to say?”

The light in her eyes died. “Mum was terrified when we heard the news.”

Throat clenched, I clung to my surliness. “So distraught she had to come see me for herself.”

My sister’s face tightened. “I had to stop her from doing that very thing, brat.”

I shifted against the pillows, wincing as the healing muscle and tissue inside me protested against the movement. My gaze locked with hers, and I saw nothing but honesty – indignant at that – reflected back. “Why? She hasn’t seen me for years, and you don’t even know me.”

She looked affronted. “You’re my sister.”

Something else we had in common: a sense of familial loyalty that was as knobbed up as it was commendable. I wasn’t about to throw out my arms and spout poetry about the love of sisters, but I was touched.

“Thank you,” I said, some of the fight draining out of me. “You can tell her that I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You were shot – twice. Once by someone on your own side. Xandra, you’re truly not safe here.”

“As safe as I am anywhere else. Whoever shot me knows me. I wouldn’t even begin to guess who to suspect.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Her stare bored into mine. “Maybe you should think on that. I have something for you.” She reached into her pocket. When she brought her hand out, she offered her closed fist to me. Slowly, her fingers unfurled. In her palm was a spent slug wrapped in tissue. It was silver, with bits of dried blood on it.

“It’s the one they took out of you,” she explained. “The one that wasn’t from the human’s weapon.”

“You stole it?” I could have slapped her. And maybe hugged her. “Albert’s fangs, woman! It’s evidence!”

“Evidence that someone tried to steal not thirty seconds after I grabbed it. I had to hide in a cupboard to keep from being seen.”

I took the metal from her, careful not to touch it with my bare skin. As it was, the tissue was little protection. My thumb and forefinger began to sting. “How do you know he was after this?”

“Because when he discovered the bullet wasn’t there, he made a call to someone telling them it was gone. The person on the other end was not impressed.”

I set the bullet on my lap, where layers of sheet and clothing would protect me from it. What had I landed myself in? “Did you recognise the voice?”

She shook her head, her expression rueful. “It was familiar, but I haven’t run with London’s respectable crowd for a long time. Most of my life’s been spent in Scotland.”

I knew that. I stared at the squashed bullet. It was a relatively small thing, yet it had done so much damage. “Still, the human was apparently shot by every RG in pursuit. Even if I found a match, there’d be no way to prove whose gun fired it.”

Ophelia arched a brow. In that moment it was almost like looking in a mirror – except for the fact that she had made her skin so dark. “I reckon you’ve got a real puzzle in front of you then. Oh, I have something else for you as well. From Dede.”

I glanced at the door, making sure there was no one there, listening to our damning conversation. “What?”

She pulled an envelope from inside her “borrowed” uniform. “Here.”

I opened the flap and pulled out several photographs – the kind taken with an Ensign “immediate” camera. The first showed Lord Ainsley and his wife.

“Did Dede take these?” I demanded, glancing up. It was one thing for her to be a traitor, but another thing altogether for her to risk herself for a bastard who never loved her.

Ophelia jerked her chin towards the photos. “Look at the next one.”

I did, and the image captured made my heart skip a beat. There was Ainsley, Lady Ainsley and their son. He was a little boy of approximately four or five years of age, with shaggy blond hair and green eyes.

“Fang me,” I whispered. There could be no denying the kid’s parentage; he had his father’s hair, but he had his mother’s green eyes. He looked just like her.

Dede.

They released me at dusk. I was well on my way to recovery, had taken full advantage of the blood bank – intravenously, of course – and had made myself enough of a pain in the staff’s collective arse that they were happy to see me go. No one even questioned my rapid recovery thanks to Ophelia.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about her risking herself to steal a bullet and bring me those photographs. I had an easier time thinking of her as an enemy, or at least a nuisance. Thinking of her as an actual sister would complicate things. Family, I’d been told, was my biggest weakness. Ophelia was enough like me to play on that.

Avery and Emma came to fetch me. Vex had called to see how I fared and to say that he’d come round later. I needed to think of what to do, not only with the pictures, but with the disfigured lump of metal that was also in the bag with my belongings.

I didn’t know anyone other than Val who might be able to test the bullet, check its markings and all that. Did I want to involve him? The Yard already had my blood on Simon. If Val was caught doing ballistic tests on the bullet that shot me – a bullet stolen from the hospital before it could even be sent to the laboratory – he could get into a lot of trouble.

Ophelia wouldn’t have given it to me if she knew anyone capable of doing such tests. I had yet to hear from my mother about their own tests on my blood. Either her lab person was really slow, or there was foulness running amok in that quarter as well. Or perhaps she hadn’t yet quite thought of the proper maternal way to say “Sorry, but you’re f*cked.”

It was tempting to say sod it and stick my head in the mud and pretend none of this had happened – stop looking. But being shot had pissed me off, in addition to scaring the shit out of me. Maybe it had been an accident, maybe not. I would never feel safe at work until I knew who had done it, and I wanted to have a little chat with the twat responsible.

Or hide in the cellar and never come out again. Both had their merits.

When we arrived home, Avery insisted I rest and shooed me into the den while she and Emma made tea for the rest of us. I was glad of the reprieve. I was healed from the actual bullet wounds, but tetracycline was a bitch. I hadn’t thought it would muck me up quite so badly, but the muscles and tissue down the entire left side of my back felt stiff and sore – bruised and raw. I was still a little nauseous as well. According to the doctors I would be fine the next day, when the drug was fully flushed from my system, but for the moment I had to whine silently to myself while putting on the show of a stiff upper lip.

I was lounging on the sofa like a lady recovering from a good swoon when my rotary buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and realised it was the one my mother had given me. The screen said I had a new message:

WE MUST MEET.

Not very cryptic at all, that. I listened to make certain neither Emma nor Avery were on their way, and quickly keyed back, TOMORROW EVE. That would have to suffice, as I wasn’t going anywhere for at least the next twenty-four hours. I was going to take advantage of my sister’s newly presented hero-worship of me and let her play nursemaid.

I needed a little vacation from this full-on hatters situation. I was home, where I was as safe as I could be. I was going to watch the box, eat until I felt my skin stretch, and try to pretend that things were normal for a few hours. As normal as they could be given that it appeared I had been intentionally shot.

I was prevented from fantasising about all the things that could be wrong with me by the arrival of Avery and Emma. One had a tray with the teapot, cups and plates while the other’s contained sandwiches and cakes. I watched them arrange everything on the tea table with a smile.

“You two are so domestic. You should get married.”

My sister and her partner exchanged glances. Avery’s cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. “We’ve talked about it,” she murmured, avoiding my gaze.

I raised a brow and turned my attention to Emma, who looked at my sister as though the sun rose and set on her.

“Life is short,” I quipped. “Best to do these things while you can.”

I hadn’t meant it as some “I’ve seen death” sort of wisdom, but obviously that was how Avery took it, because her big eyes filled with tears. “You’re right.”

“Ave,” I began, reeking of remorse, “I didn’t mean …”

“No.” She shook her head and turned to the other woman. “Emma Stanfield, I would like very much to marry you.”

Aw, shit. I didn’t need to see this. I didn’t want to witness this intimate moment, but that didn’t stop my eyes from tearing up. It was the pain, obviously – and the stress – making me overly emotional. I looked away and busied myself with filling my plate while they whispered, kissed and generally cooed like pigeons at one another.

Avery announced that it was cause to celebrate, and ran off to find a bottle of something, still wiping happy tears from her cheeks. I offered them my felicitations when she returned, and the three of us toasted the happy news with champagne, cucumber sandwiches and cake. The champagne mixed pleasantly with the horse tranquilizers I’d been given for pain.

We were still celebrating – the champagne long gone – when someone rang the bell. Emma went to answer, giving me a few moments alone with Avery. I appreciated it, because I got to hug her and congratulate her in private.

Emma returned with our guest – my father. Avery leapt up to greet him, but when I went to rise from the sofa, he stopped me. “Stay where you are, my dear.” It was clear that he intended to sit next to me, so I moved my legs to give him room. He seemed happy – more chipper than I’d seen him for quite some time. His eyes were bright, his cheeks rosy. Avery must have told him her news. My sister offered to open more champagne, but he refused.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, patting my legs through the blanket I’d draped over them.

“Fair to middling,” I lied. This was without a doubt the worst wound I’ve ever sustained. “You?”

“The pain of seeing you injured notwithstanding, I am exceedingly well this evening.”

“I noticed,” I replied, feeling the infectious pull of his smile. I cast a grin at Avery. “Betrothal giddiness abounds.”

“There is that,” Vardan replied. “And there is this.” With a great flourish – the kind all dramatic people seemed to possess – he pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket.

“I met Her Majesty before coming here. She asked that I give you this.”

Hesitantly, I reached out and took the envelope. I had no idea what it could be, but my stomach danced with anticipation. I broke the royal seal and removed the paper inside.

I wasn’t certain when my hands began to tremble, or the rest of me for that matter. I didn’t know exactly when the words began to blur or my heart started to pound so hard my still-healing wounds hurt.

“Xandy?” came Avery’s concerned voice. “What is it?”

I looked up. I couldn’t quite see her through my bleary eyes. “It’s a royal summons. I’m to be knighted.”

“Is this good news?” Vex asked, sitting at the bottom of the chesterfield, his arm stretched along the back. “Or bad?”

He was the only one to ask me that question – and he’d waited until we were alone to do it. My father had left hours ago, and Avery and Emma had departed shortly after he arrived – and after my sister made him swear to look after me. She and Emma had run off to celebrate their engagement. To be honest, I was glad to have them gone so Vex and I could talk.

“I don’t know,” I replied, glancing at the summons on the coffee table as I picked absently at the chenille throw over my legs. “This should be the happiest day of my life.”

His gaze was incredibly wise – and non-judgemental. “My mother used to say there’s no such thing as ‘should’. Is this the happiest day of your life?”

I hesitated. “No.” It was the truth, and I couldn’t decide how I felt – guilty or angry. “It’s not.”

He lifted his fist and rested his temple on it. “Why’s that, then?”

As if he didn’t know. “Mostly because someone I know shot me in the back. There’s something wrong with me and a friend of mine is dead because of it.”

Vex watched me for a moment, his expression vexingly unreadable – hence one reason for his name, I suppose. “That doesn’t change the fact that you took a bullet meant for Queen V.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, but you must allow that the distinction is diminished by circumstances.”

His lips twitched. “Aren’t you a fancy talker?”

“I am educated, you know.”

“I never would have assumed otherwise.” His expression sobered. “I’m not suggesting a commendation will make everything better. But Xandra, this is a big deal – something you should enjoy and be proud of. Everything else can fly the f*ck off.”

“Now who’s the fancy talker?” I teased, but I appreciated the sentiment. I really did. He was right – this was a big deal and I should enjoy it, regardless of all else. “Thank you.”

Vex smiled – a little half-grin that made my libido wish I was in better condition physically. Alas, I was a mess and so none of that for me. In any case, this sitting and talking together felt more intimate – somewhat unsettling and naked, but good.

Vex made some sandwiches and found a couple of bottles of ginger beer in the fridge. He brought it all in on a tray with two big bowls of warm treacle pudding for after. My mouth watered.

“You’re very domestic for an alpha,” I remarked as he set the tray on the table and offered me a plate with a huge sandwich on it.

“Would you rather I thump my chest a few times?” he asked with an amused expression. “I don’t have to prove myself. I already know what I’m capable of, and so does the pack.”

“And now I know you’re capable of making a brilliant sandwich,” I said as I swallowed a bite of bread-embraced heaven.

“An alpha’s job is to take care of his wolves.”

“I’m not a wolf.”

His gaze lifted to mine – direct and certain. “No, but you’re still mine.”

His gaze was so intense I couldn’t hold it for long.

“Your scent has changed,” he went on, seemingly oblivious as to how his remark unsettled me. He wasn’t that blind though. “You smell wild – like the wind and the rain. It’s subtle, but different.”

My attention wandered to the large plastic bottle on the table. Avery had left my supplements, with orders to take them. Prescribed for me and me alone. Medication could change the way a body smelled, couldn’t it? I took the bottle and dumped a large white pill out into my palm.

“You have labs and all that in Scotland, right?”

Vex wiped his mouth and smiled. “Telephones and flush toilets too.”

I offered him the pill. “Would you find out what’s in this for me?”

He didn’t even blink as he took it. “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know what to think.” That was probably the single most honest, revealing statement I’d made in days. “But right now you’re the only person I trust to help me and not get yourself killed.”

Vex cupped the back of my head in one hand, long fingers parting the tangle of my hair. “We’ll figure this out, you have my word. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Then he kissed me.

It was the sort of kiss that made a girl feel like she couldn’t draw breath – and not care. And just when I thought I might pass out from a lack of oxygen to my brain, I heard something – and it wasn’t blood pounding in my ears. Suddenly my hearing went all sensitive-like and I heard the sound of claws scraping at my front door. Vex must have heard it too, because we both stiffened at the same time. And when he lifted his mouth from mine, a growl escaped.

“Is that what I think it is?” I whispered. Now that I was listening, I heard a pinging sound – like breaking glass.

Vex’s expression was dangerously grim. Yellow light reflected in his eyes. “Goblins.”

He didn’t seem surprised as he rose to his feet and left the room. I followed after him – slow and stiff. I’d just entered the foyer when he opened the door. The exterior light was out – that must have been the breaking glass I heard – and standing in the darkness was the goblin prince, wearing a red-tinted monocle over his good eye, and a velvet frock coat across his broad furry shoulders. He looked like he was auditioning for “Gob in Boots”.

He bowed at the waist in a very old-fashioned gesture. I was surprised to see that his fur looked groomed and shiny. I sniffed, and smelled the clean scent of earth and grass.

“MacLaughlin. Lady. Might your prince enter?”

I would have refused had he not saved my life. This was the second goblin to show up at my house in the last week – and at the front door, no less! At one time I would have thought the prince had come to kill me, but now I knew that if the goblins wanted me dead I’d be dead by now. In fact, the goblins were the only ones I was reasonably certain did not want me dead at all.

That went against every horror story I’d ever heard about them.

“Come in,” I said. I didn’t want anyone who might drive by to see a goblin on my step. As he crossed the threshold on slightly canine legs, I continued, “Why are you here?”

“We needed to see that the wolf and the lady were fine. Needed to talk.”

I frowned. Should I be grateful or alarmed?

Vex bowed his head in a show of respect. “I am well, prince. As dictated in the Plaga Carta, I offered my humble apologies for the spilling of goblin blood in the tunnels last night.”

My frown deepened as I looked from one to the other. “What the ruddy hell is this?”

They both turned to me, but I kept my gaze on Vex. It wasn’t well lit in here, but it was still bright enough that the sight of the prince in my home unsettled me. He looked so familiar, yet alien at the same time. A nightmare from childhood.

“It’s the law,” Vex explained. “When a member of one aristocratic race spills the blood of another, the leaders of the two sides get together and express their regret. It’s meant to keep the three races from going to war.”

Because no one wanted to go to war with the goblins.

“But how did you spill goblin blood?”

To my surprise, the alpha’s expression turned slightly sheepish. “When the prince tried to take you from me, I … bit him.”

My spastic eyebrow syndrome kicked in, jerking both brows straight up. “Bit him?”

The prince nodded, with a grin that made the bottom of my stomach clench. “Almost let his wolf out. Drew blood. Most impressive, the MacLaughlin, protecting our pretty lady.” Then his amber gaze locked with mine. “Shall we accept the wolf’s truce?”

Why the bleeding hell was he asking me? “Of course,” I replied, resisting the urge to add “shit for brains” at the end.

The goblin smiled – without showing teeth. It made him look almost cute, like a sweet mutt, the sort that wagged its tail at everyone. “Good words. There is no harm, wolf. Did the sickness take you in?”

“Not for long.” Vex shoved his hands into his pockets, but there was a tension to his spine. I knew he could attack at a moment’s notice if necessary. However, I didn’t reckon it would be.

“Sickness?” I asked.

“Goblin blood makes everyone but other goblins ill,” Vex informed me casually. “It’s like drinking acid.”

“But …” I stopped myself. I’d almost said that the prince had given me his blood and I was fine. But that couldn’t be what had happened, if it was so terrible. The shape I was in, it would have done me in for certain.

Wouldn’t it?

The goblin watched me with his one keen eye. “Yes, pretty?”

I shook my head. I wasn’t going to ask a question I might not want answered. “Nothing.” I was suddenly very hungry, and tired. I needed to get back to that sandwich. And I knew there was something afoot. “You didn’t come up cobbleside just to check on Vex. You gobs have ears everywhere; you would have known he was fine. Why are you here?”

“Mayhap your prince worried for you. Wanted to see you well.”

The sincerity in his raspy speech surprised me. What had I done to earn the respect of the goblin prince? I wasn’t certain I liked it, but it beat having him eat my face, so I would learn to be fine with it.

“I’m doing quite well, thank you.” Then I remembered my manners. “And thank you for saving my life.”

His ears – battle-scarred as they were, folded down as though I had literally patted him on the head. “My honour. I also came to give the Xandra lady this.” He held out his paw. In the centre of it was an old spent bullet inside a tiny plastic bag – the sort with a press seal on the top. The idea of a goblin using such a bag amused me, but I didn’t make it to a smile.

That bullet was silver – no wonder he had it in a bag. It was tarnished, but it was the same size and shape as the one taken out of me.

“What is it?” I asked, arms over my chest. No way was I touching it just yet.

“The metal what took mine eye,” the prince replied. “Many years ago. Silver burned – made sure no eye ever grew back.”

It said a lot about his strength that he’d even survived it. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“We are certain it is twin to the one which shot our lady in the dark.”

Slowly I loosened my arms, and reached out to pluck the little bag out of his palm. My mouth was dry. “Who shot you?”

Both the prince and Vex watched me closely. I knew I had to be white as chalk.

“It happened when I saw the young Xandra lady and tried to touch the wonder. Then pain. Much pain.” His voice was even scratchier than before. “It was the Churchill.”