Page 150 of Centaur Bolt

How could he take Riley’s side in this? She’d fucked the Dragon. He’dbittenher.

She dreamed of him. She is in the hands of Fate,Iskar repeated.

No. She belonged to Havoc now. Centaurs mated in pairs, not multiples.

You are not—

Do NOT say it.I cut him off with a burst of rage that caused claws to sprout from my fingertips.

He fell silent, but I sensed him at work, and a moment later, the claws dropped away.

The guards at the main entrance to the colony stiffened as I rounded the corner. Then one peered closer, and said, “Marcus?”

I supposed I was fortunate he recognized me at all. I nodded to him.

He cleared his throat, trying without success to not stare. “Welcome home. We heard—”

I was in no mood for chatting. “I just need to find my parents.”

His mouth closed. “Triss is here, but your father—he’s away, looking for you.”

He would be. I swallowed. “Thank you,” I said, as I stalked past.

The colony was dark and silent, with only a few lights showing in the windows of the residences I passed. My steps increased in tempo until I was almost running. Until I slid to a halt in front of my parent’s house.

The front porch light was on.

My mother had always done that if either Emmanuel or myself were out late, or away at a market. As if we needed that little beacon to find our way home.

Right now, I did. It was a much-needed bit of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic series of events. I walked through the entrance and into the house. I heard a sound… I dropped the sword and moved silently to the back porch.

She lay on one of the large cushions. Her head was buried in her folded arms.

The sounds coming from her pierced my heart.

My mother was one of the strongest women I knew. In all my years with her, I had only once seen her cry.

“Mother,” I said.

She rose as only a warrior could do, transitioning from prone to action-ready in one single, fluid movement. Back on her four legs, she froze, as though she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

Then I was wrapped in her arms, and she was half-crying, and half-laughing, as she said, “Oh, my son. How did you get away?”

“Long story.” My voice was rough. “Do you have anything to eat?”

An hour later, I was finishing off both the long gruesome story and a plate of food fit for a king as she bustled around the kitchen. I was surprised and touched that she’d added chairs to her kitchen ensemble.

“Quit fussing, Mother,” I said. “I am stuffed.”

She gestured helplessly. “I can’t seem to stop moving.” Her eyes flashed. “Now that you are safe, your father is on his way to the academy. He wants to know whether they got to Isobel in time.” She paused again as my father mindspoke to her. “He’s so relieved you’re here.”

“I’ve missed him,” I stated. “It’s good to be home.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re staying for a while?”

I avoided her gaze. “I’m not going back to the academy.”

She crossed her arms in what I recognized as her “about to give my son a lecture” pose. I braced myself.

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