Page 20 of Honorable Convictions
Refusing to cry at work, Pierson stared hard at the black fabric of his uniform pants until he was able to bury his tears of frustration and despair. “Perhaps I could transfer back to Vegas at some point in the future,” Pierson acknowledged after several minutes. Perfectly willing to do that once he was free of Mitchell, he’d hopefully be returning with his new love at his side.
“We’ll do some thinking and speak with Barnaby. Meet us here tomorrow morning,” Drystan ordered. With a nod, Pierson left their office and went straight to his own. There was no need for reminders, but he put the appointment into his phone and set one anyway. It was important not to miss the two Council leaders before they left for their everyday session in the Main Assembly Hall. For Pierson, each minute in sunny Vegas was another stolen from his new life, and he had to get out as soon as possible.
∞∞∞
Something was up, making Mitchell nervous. A day ago, Pierson had met with the RKs. While the Reverent Knights had an open-door policy, it was the first time he knew of that his mate had taken advantage of it and requested an appointment. Because of Pierson’s isolation, he confided in no one, so it was impossible for Mitchell to figure out why he’d asked Kyle Meadowscroft—the office manager resurrected for that purpose—to put him on the calendar. It might be wishful thinking, but Mitchell hoped he went in there to declare that he didn’t want to handle another separation agreement. If he did, it’d allow Mitchell to do the same.
Although he’d never liked handling them, in recent years they’d reached a scary level. The idea of Niko’s Law sent chills down his spine. It was anathema to everything Mitchell believed, and since he’d never had the opportunity to seal his own bond, it frightened the hell out of him. Would it become commonplace for couples? If that did occur, it’d undermine every matebond.
There was nothing he held against anyone in the two cases he’d handled. They had legitimate reasons, and there were probably others that did as well, but the law didn’t state parameters; it was up to the person with demonic blood to be comfortable with using their magic. The three known demonic entities in the Council were honorable men, but the future might lead them to others who didn’t hold the same ideals. Mitchell wasn’t sure he wanted to know how that would play out.
Instead of scaring the shit out of himself, Mitchell headed toward the round table in the center of where all but one Juris Knight had their offices. Their morning status meeting was about to start, and once he was seated, he waited for his favorite part of the day because he got to be close to Pierson. Embroiled in testy exchanges frequently, the itch to lash out or irritate him was ever-present, but it was inevitable that they’d be together someday. It didn’t mean he was happy with Pierson—nothing was further from the truth.
The king of ice refused to act as if he needed anyone, let alone his mate. Pierson handled more cases than anyone, and his track record made even Mitchell’s nearly pale in comparison. It was strange to simultaneously respect someone while wanting to wring their neck for being an antisocial elitist, but Mitchell managed it.
Venerable Knight Arvandus Ruarc-Daray, who’d gone by the name Vann before discovering his true identity as a former sentinel, strolled up to the table, and Mitchell’s radar sent out warning signals. Always a man with a ready smile, after being reunited with his mate, VK Ruarc-Daray radiated happiness. The worry lines visible on his forehead told Mitchell that something was wrong. If it involved work, he’d find out soon enough, he assured himself. On the off chance that something had gone wrong in Arvandus’s personal life, he sincerely hoped he was able to right it without delay.
“Good morning,” Arvandus offered, still not grinning. “Instead of going straight in to assigning fresh cases, I have an announcement to make. We’re having a small gathering on Friday afternoon after lunch to give Pierson a fond farewell. He’s transferring to the DC office effective Monday. Knowing Pierson, he won’t leave any cases to be reassigned, but any that he can’t complete will be reallocated next week.”
Mitchell could hardly breathe as Arvandus’s words sank in. After busting his ass to get to the same city as Pierson, he was leaving. How in the world did the RKs think it was okay to send one of the two best Juris Knights to a satellite office when everything of importance happened in Vegas? Whipping his head to the left, he sought out Pierson and was treated to a view of the side of his face. The fallen knight was studying a spot not far from Arvandus’s head and refused to meet Mitchell’s gaze.
Arvandus was talking, but Mitchell heard no words. At the conclusion of their meeting, he automatically grabbed the stack of files handed to him and hopped out of his chair. Racing to Pierson’s side, he got into his personal space.
“We need to talk privately,” Mitchell requested quietly. There were things that needed to be said and he didn’t want an audience.
“Yes, we do. We can use my office.”
Mitchell made an affirmative noise and raced to his own to dump the stack of files that constituted his new workload. It was thicker than normal, but he supposed that was to be expected without Pierson in the office. In Pierson’s space, there was nothing that spoke of his personality despite the decades he’d spent in it. There were no pictures on the walls, not a single item that wasn’t necessary on the immaculate surface of his desk, and the man behind it showed no expression at all. Mitchell shut them inside and without an invitation sat in one of the guest chairs normally used for client meetings.
“I don’t suppose you’re here to congratulate me on my new job.”
“I think the most appropriate thing to do in this situation is ask you if you’ve lost your fucking mind, Blondie.”
Pierson’s jaw tightened. “That’s your opinion, but I’m glad to have this opportunity to speak with you privately. We need to discuss our plan for moving forward.”
“How the fuck can we move forward if you’re leaving Vegas?” Mitchell demanded. For decades he’d waited for the right moment to discuss their matebond, and when it finally arrived Pierson was packing up and shipping out.
“In one hundred and fifteen years we’ve been unable to establish even a friendship. I believe we should put together formal separation papers.”
Mitchell was incredulous. “We’ve never tried to be friends.” They’d been rivals and perhaps enemies, but there was no one else Mitchell could imagine in the role of mate. Pierson was the ideal choice if they were able to simply start over. They had to be brave enough to move past their animosity and stop playing the ridiculous games they’d let drive them apart. Unsure how they’d allowed so many years to pass or how they’d gotten to this point, Mitchell was certain it was time to stop denying their fate.
“I believe that’s indicative of the wrongness of our connection. Our end goal should be using the demonic spell to free us.”
“No fucking way,” Mitchell spat, slamming his hands on the desk without any recall of getting to his feet. There wasn’t anyone for him but Pierson. For a century, he’d allowed Pierson to hold him at bay while loneliness ate him up. The farce was finished, and he didn’t care what cities they were living in—they were damn well going to honor their matebond.
“I understand your first reaction is to argue with me whenever possible, but if you could set aside your ego for a minute, you’d see that it is the smartest path.”
“The first question we’d get asked by the Acwellan chieftain who has done both splits is if we’ve tried to make things work. None of the demonic people in the Council are going to be willing to destroy what Fate gave us because we have no choice but to be honest in our answer. Neither of us has made our matebond a priority.”
“Certainly you aren’t suggesting that we do that now?”
Mitchell whipped open the door. “It’s not a suggestion, Blondie. I’ve waited too fucking long to allow this to become a negotiation. Good luck in DC.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, Mitchell stormed out and promised himself that he’d be on Pierson’s doorstep in DC in a couple of days. Mitchell had lulled himself into complacency, sure that at any moment a signal would arise, and he’d have his chance to build something beautiful with Pierson. It might’ve been preferable to admonish himself for being a fool for far too long, but he was going to focus on the road ahead. Although Pierson was stubborn enough to stick to his crazy idea of separating, Mitchell was aiming for the opposite. It was time for his mate to understand that he never settled for anything but winning.
Chapter 12
The Reverent Knights had given Pierson a minimum of one week off so he could find a permanent residence. It had only taken Pierson two days to find and sign a lease on a cute little apartment in the heart of Pentagon City. A short walk to shops and restaurants, there was even a druid-run Dérive station in case he ever found a friend that wanted to visit by teleportation. It was a lively neighborhood, and he liked the energetic vibe of this part of the DC metro area. Unpacking his boxes, he was wondering what in the hell people did while on vacation when there was a knock on the door.
