Page 64 of The Flame

“Probably,” he drawled. “That’s not the point. James wants to have the complaint on record, and send them a warning about messing with the wardens.”

I squinted at him. I’d never met James, but I really, really liked him. “About messing withyou.”

A half-cocked grin shrugged his sexy jaw. “I’ll take all the protection he wants to throw my way, so I can extend it to you.”

“You think I’m going to land myself into a hot mess!”

“I know you are,” he said, but there was a smile in his voice and a glint in his eyes.

I punched him on the chest and squirreled back down into his embrace. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I certainly am,” he agreed warmly. “Another thing. James hadn’t put forward my transfer request, and we’ve decided I’ll withdraw it for now.”

“He still wants you to take his position when he steps down?”

“He does,” Roman said. “But it also gives me a reason to be in Capra for now.”

I smiled against the silken iron skin of his chest, and we lay there in comfortable silence. I was reluctant to break it, but I had to know. “Do you think I’m making a mistake here?”

He thought on that for a long moment. “Honestly? I don’t know, Georga. But I know you’re doing what you have to do.” His thumb soothed slow, circular caresses on my upper arm. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you. If the Sisterhood gets their claws into you, I’ll blow that damn rehab center up.”

He spoke that like a vow.

20

The next three days and nights followed a similar routine.

During the days, Daniel and I kept busy—and fit—with long hikes through the nature reserve. We stayed deep within the park, never roaming too close to the lake, and had endless conversations about The Smoke and the wilds and the barons.

As I’d suspected, Daniel had never been outside Capra and his knowledge of what lay beyond our walls was sketchy. He knew something of the Protectorate, but he’d never heard of the Union Families and Blood Throats, or anything about life in The Smoke. The same held true for the wilds. He knew we traded with the barons for some of our goods, but he had no idea about the life they led or about the trade of ovarian eggs.

The heirs were not privy to the full truth until they inherited their spot at the council table.

Our nights were spent with Roman, discussing the state of our world, Capra, The Smoke, the Eastern Coalition, the wilds, as well as the governing bodies of the old world.

Roman had been beyond the Eastern Coalition, he’d traveled the wilds.

At times, it seemed his knowledge was like his rogue experience, without limits or any boundaries, and I absorbed itall with insatiable hunger, digested his words from both worlds and used them to craft my next letter.

Roman also kept his ear to the ground, and it soon became clear that Geneva had no intention of going public with the missing heirs or my betrayal of the Sisterhood. The wardens had confronted the Sisterhood, and obviously the Protectorate knew, but as usual, the citizens of Capra were kept in the dark.

On the fourth day, a little after noon, Jessie found her way to us.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining as she propped her bicycle against the porch and bounded up the steps. “I thought I’d never find you! I took two wrong turns.”

“How is that even possible?” I hugged her, giggling. “Seriously? It’s left turns all the way.”

“I was nervous,” she groaned. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No you’re not,” I said. “You found us.”

I shooed her inside so I could close the door on the winter storm brewing outside. Not that it was much warmer inside. Our portable heater was charging at the Parklands cabin, where Roman ‘officially’ resided.

Daniel was on the couch, snuggled beneath a quilt. “Jessie, right?”

They’d never formally met. I completed the introductions as I squeezed passed the couch to get to the kitchen. “Hot chocolate?”

“Yes, yes and yes! Oh, and I brought this.” Jessie swung her backpack off and dug inside it, producing a tin of raspberry oatcakes. “They were supposed to be choc-chip, but the stores are out of chocolate.”

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