Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(104)

He made his lungs expand and discovered he could breathe again. He cupped her face in both hands and kissed her, savoring the texture of her soft open lips.

“Only one person,” he whispered. Only one thing.

She put her cheek against his and nuzzled him. “Would you like children some day?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He ran his hands down her shapely back. “Maybe. I like children. I would like your children. I must confess, this is not a subject to which I have given much thought.”

“Me neither,” she sighed. She switched to telepathy. You know, we might decide some day that I should abdicate. I would like to see how we feel about things after we’ve opened the Dark Fae borders and brought the rest of my family’s murderers to justice. I don’t think we need to stress too much over the long term when meeting our short-term goals is enough of a challenge.

That is a good point, he said. One step at a time. Now, about marriage.

She kissed him. What about it?

Do you require this ritual for happiness? We can always marry in secret, if you like. He brushed a lock of her hair out of her beautiful eyes.

She stuck out her lower lip and grumbled, I would like to point out I am actually much more Wyr than anybody has given me credit for thus far. I mean, hello, I moved in with you all when I was seventeen, remember. I know to a lot of you geriatrics that’s not such a long time ago, but it’s quite a significant length of time to me. Tiago, are we mated or not?

We are indeed, he said.

She went nose-to-nose with him. And will you have me and no other?

I will. He touched her delicate skin. And will you have me and no other?

For the rest of my life. She smiled. “So I reckon that’s that.”

“I reckon it is.” He smiled back.

“Here, drink your coffee before it gets any colder.” She leaned sideways to pick up the cup on the floor by his chair and paused. She cocked her head. “What is this package?”

He leaned over and looked at it too. “It’s the next thing on my to-do list after I talk with you.”

“What’s in it?”

“I don’t know. It’s a message from a dead woman.” Niniane looked at him quickly, and he explained how he had acquired it.

“How could you not open it right away?” she exclaimed. She snatched the packet up and thrust it into his hands.

“It has quite a high priority rating,” he said. “But making sure you were okay was the most important thing to me.”

“I think that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.” She slid off his lap to kneel on the ground in front of him. She leaned against his legs and nodded to the package. “Hurry up, open it.”

He turned it over in his hands, considering. It was roughly nine inches by six or seven, and more or less flat, wrapped in leather and bound with a thin length of cord that was firmly knotted. He pulled out a pocketknife and slit the strip. Then he folded back the leather cover. Inside was a manila envelope that had been folded in half. He opened the envelope and pulled out the contents.

The message from the dead woman came in the form of corporation papers, owned by a dead man.

The papers were for Tri-State Financial Services, complete with bank account and checkbook. The company supposedly had been incorporated by Cuelebre Enterprises, but the single shareholder listed was Urien Lorelle.

Son of a bitch.

A little while later, Niniane lay curled in a pile of pillows on the floor near the brazier. Tiago had erupted out of the chair to prowl the confines of the tent when they had discovered the contents of the packet. After the stress of the broken night, her energy had already been at low ebb. He had far more stamina than she ever would. She couldn’t keep up with him and didn’t even try.

He had paused in his furious pacing to drape a soft woolen blanket over her curled form. Then he opened one of the nylon coolers that he had tucked into one corner of the tent the evening before. He piled a variety of foods onto a plate, which included quintessential American fare like fried chicken, potato salad, and cherry and apple turnovers. Then he slapped the laden plate on the floor in front of her and ordered her with a glare to eat, the warlord mother hen at his finest.

So she rested, watched him and nibbled.

Then Aryal’s voice sounded just outside the tent. “So you two clowns are on guard duty now? Good for you. Move or I’ll break your legs.”

Niniane choked on a piece of potato, coughed and swallowed hard. She exclaimed, “Aryal!”

Tiago stopped pacing and turned to the front of the tent.

“What!” Aryal snapped back. The harpy sounded even more bad-tempered than usual. “They’ve been taking the same trip we have. You would think they would know by now they don’t have to guard you from me or Rune.”

Niniane let her head fall back on a pillow and covered her eyes with one hand. She said to Tiago, “Now is not the time for anyone to be working my last nerve.”

“I feel you on that one,” he said between his teeth. His upper lip curled in a snarl.

Then with exquisite politeness, a Dark Fae male said, “Your highness, forgive me for interrupting you at your rest. Wyr sentinels Aryal and Rune request an audience with you.”

Close on the heels of that, Aryal’s sarcastic mutter was clearly audible. “Ding-f*cking-dong. Ooh, what a surprise. Someone’s at the door.”