She stared after him for long moments. They'd never fought before, had always gotten along with such ease. Yet just now he'd looked as if he couldn't stand the sight of her.
Turning toward her rooms, she passed the guards posted at her door, ducking her head so they couldn't see her watering eyes.
Their mewling, halfling soon-to-be queen. Who had no idea what she was doing.
Don't cry, don't cry. . . .
As soon as the door closed behind her, she removed her mask and swiped her forearm over her face. How could she not cry?
She'd fought with all her loved ones, and the guilt was heavy. They were all that she had in the world. Unless she counted the vampire. You are mine . . . we are fated.
On top of tonight's developments, she was still trapped in this process-helpless to do anything but watch as Daciano and Cas likely went to their deaths.
Tears don't help anything. What to do? Go outside and take in the night. But her feet wouldn't quite shuffle her outside.
Alone on the balcony, up so high-in the dark? With an "imperfect" barrier spell?
Did it even matter that those Vrekeners were dead? Would more come? She suspected she'd always be crippled by fear. She couldn't just turn it off. . . .
What to do? Work! Yes, she'd lose herself in creation.
She hurried into her workroom, inhaling deeply as she entered. The familiar scents helped to center her. When all the world seemed to be dismantling around her, creation was her one constant.
In the next half hour, she could finish fabricating the piece for Patroness. All she had left to do was attach the two moving parts of the weapon-the all-important spring mechanism and the blade. Then etching, then completion. So close.
And once she'd finished with work? How to handle this eve with Daciano?
As she gathered the needed tools, she imagined what she'd say to him. First she'd rail at him for taking her blood.
Before, she hadn't known for certain whether he'd harvested her memories. Now she did. She was sick of everyone walking all over her.
After she railed, she would demand answers! Did you take my memories on purpose? Why gift me with those heads in such a manner?
Are you . . . are you afraid of dying tomorrow?
Salem shimmered into the room. "What's wrong wiv you, chit? You look like you're about to cry. And in your workroom, no less? This is the seat of nirvana for you."
"Why are you even asking? I know you heard my conversation with Cas."
"That's fair."
"I broke my promise to him. He's denying his instinct, making sacrifices to be with me. But I betrayed him."
"He wants credit for not diddlin' a whore?" Salem occupied her earring. "Bully for him that he hasn't been dippin' his wick in all the hookers in Rune-for a few chuffin' days out of his immortal life. Really? He wants a biscuit for keepin' it in his pants? Try not havin' sex for eighteen years!"
Salem's Cockney accent was so thick tonight; at any second, she expected him to say, "P-please, sir, I want some more."
She shook her head. "You won't turn this around, sylph. I am at fault."
He slithered around her neck to her other earring. "Does Cas compliment you? Does he hold your hand? Does he ask about your interests? Have you two had a chin-wag about what your future'll be like?"
When she opened her mouth to answer yes, Salem added: "In detail?"
She closed her mouth.
"After each bout, he hams it up for his adoring tarts and longs for his randy ways. He's not tryin' to fall for you."
Bettina glared. "Cas never wanted any of this to begin with! He never wanted me. I dragged him into this."
"And so far, you've saved his life! Though I do think Gourlav'll wipe the floor wiv 'im."
She flinched as if struck. But her voice was toneless when she pointed out: "Gourlav will only face Cas if he wins. You assume Daciano will lose?"
Silence. She knew she was getting a duh look. "And that's a shame," Salem said, "because the vampire's in it to win it wiv you."
"In it to win it?"
"Besides giving up his home, he's interested in your interests, and he's willing to compromise. I saw him chokin' down wine for you. He thinks you're the mutt's nuts. You could've done worse."
"I've only known him for so little time. I can't just turn off my feelings for Cas like a spigot. And if I went from utter love of Cas to utter love of Daciano, what does that say about me? At best, that I'm fickle. At worst, that I'm as young and stupid as everyone seems to believe."
"No one expects you to turn off your feelings-they'll always be there-just start seeing 'em for what they really are."
Had she begun to? Whenever she imagined marriage, she'd begun to think only of . . . Daciano. Whenever she thought of Cas, she kept replaying all the milestones of their friendship.
"The demon's your best mate, as in friend. Some other female out there is his other kind of mate. She ain't you."
Bettina was starting to believe this. If she and Cas had been fated, then why was there so much strain between them-especially when they tried to act like a couple?
Oh, what did it matter how she felt? So long as Gourlav still lived, Bettina's two choices of men were about to become . . . none.
She snatched up her soldering torch and adjusted the flame. Work! The fire blazed in front of her watering eyes.
"You know those raves you used to attend?" Salem said in a cautious tone. "You look like you're havin' a bad trip. Just slow your roll, chit."