Page 87 of Power
“No, of course not,” I reassure her by taking her hand again and running my thumb over her palm. “They don’t want you dead. They want you for themselves.”
“Meaning?”
Gryphon huffs. “You are of the elite blood, my Queen.”
I can see it really grates on him that he has to call her that. Not in an insulting way, but he desperately wants to call her by her given name, have her be his daughter. It’s written all over his face whenever he looks at her.
“So?” She turns on him fiercely. “So fucking what?”
“It means that rivaling chapters in this area can lay claim to you and wish to do so,” I explain gently. “But you chose Manchester University over Liverpool, so you are ours. You belong here, with us.” I nail home this point in case she suddenly decides that the grass might be greener over in Liverpool, where I’m fairly certain she would be chained up and raped to produce the King’s heir at his earliest convenience. Our cousin, Alister, never did have any patience. Fucking dick.
“I didn’t choose it. I got a scholarship there,” she says through gritted teeth.
“Nope, all paid for by me,” Gryphon pipes up.
“Oh, Jesus,” Knave says, dropping his face into his hands. “What are you doing, man?”
“Excuse me?” she thunders, standing up, and knocking her chair over. “You fucking did what?”
“Later!” I bark, needing order before this turns into a family feud from hell. “My Queen. Sit.”
She glares at me, her breath heavy. Folding her arms, she sits as Knave rights her chair, but I can tell she is not happy about it.
“Look, my Queen. I understand the severity of this information, but another time, yes? Right now, we need to figure out a way to keep you safe from Hare without being forced to lock you up in the penthouse. Okay?”
Her eyes flash, but she calms down at the threat of being locked up, as I knew she would.
“Moving. On,” Duchess says, giving us each a filthy glare.
“Wait,” my Queen says. “What about Ms. James?”
“The matter has been discussed; there is nothing left to say,” Duchess says.
“But…”
“Hush,” I murmur. “We will talk about it later, okay?” I implore her with my soothing tone and pleading gaze.
My Queen nods slowly, getting that this isn’t the place for emotion.
“With regard to the Solitaire favors system, we have already received one for Alice-slash-Queen.” She slowly slides a golden envelope across the table and seven sets of eyes land on it.
My heart thumps. This is sudden and unprecedented.
“What is it?” she asks, the fear exuding from her soft tone.
I lock gazes with her, my own fear reaching a peak. Whatever is in that envelope, she has to do. She isn’t ready. It could be anything.
She isn’t ready.
It sits like a ticking timebomb in the middle of the round table as we stare at it as if expecting it to get up and walk away of its own volition.
But, of course, it doesn’t.
ChapterForty-Nine
Bailey
I reach for the envelope,my hand shaking. I wasn’t expecting this so soon, if ever. I mean, what could anyone possibly wantmeto do? I’m still a low-level nobody with no real power. So they call me Queen, but nothing I have is my own unless they fancy a nearly maxed-out credit card or my cheap fake diamond earrings.
