Soren
Patton is already at the kitchen table drinking coffee when I sit up from the couch, blinking into hazy midmorning sunlight. My body rejects the idea of moving, my joints popping and head swimming for several seconds before I fully rise and stumble to my feet.
He hums a laugh, but his eyes are on a newspaper spread out across the table, which he keeps so clean and polished I can see my reflection in its surface when I sit down. “What time is it?”
“Almost eleven,” he says with a small yawn, flipping a page. “Didn’t feel like waking you.”
“Is she up yet?” I blearily reach toward the window to pull the curtains closed against the intense sunlight pouring directly into my eyes, but Patton beats me to it, then rises to fetch a coffee mug from his tidy cabinets.
“Not yet–”
I rise, turning for the stairs.
“I already checked on her,” Patton amends, clicking his tongue at me. “She’s fine. She’s still asleep.”
I grip the top of the chair, scanning his face for inconsistencies in his story. Patton has never given me a reason not to trust him, but bringing Maeve into the picture has me on edge more than usual. The idea of anyone hurting her, touching her, or even looking in her direction other than me makes me want to… to do violent things. Patton arches a brow as he sets the mug on the table and slides cream and a bowl of sugar in my direction.
“Did Duke come back?”
“Nope. Haven’t seen him this morning.” He sinks back into his chair while I make my coffee the way I like it, mostly black. I rarely have fresh cream on hand, though, so I add a heavy dose just for the hell of it. “What exactly was that about?” he asks.
“Me and Duke?”
He nods, leaning back in his chair. “You haven’t seen the guy in months.”
“I haven’t seen you in months, either.”
“I thought the two of you mended things.”
“He’s the reason I owe another debt to the Viper,” I tell him flatly before taking the first, blissful sip of pure caffeine. “He knows it, I know it…. Last night was a long time coming.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
“What do you mean?”
He flips another page in the newspaper. The printed date in the top right corner is from two months ago, which was probably the last time he ventured into the nearest town, I’m guessing. “You looked like you were ready to snap his neck the second he saw Maeve–”
“Princess Maeve,” I cut in, but Patton smirks, rolling his eyes to meet mine.
“She told me to call her just Maeve.”
“Well, seeing as the two of you are best friends now, you can be the one to escort her to the nearest train station.”
“Isn’t she magic? Doesn’t she have those–those powers that make her fly or whatever?” He wiggles his fingers before flipping another page.
“Are you even reading that thing?”
He snaps the pages shut and shifts his position to face me, bracing his elbows on the table. “What are you doing with her, Soren?”
“I told you everything. There’s nothing left to say.”
“The future queen of Eastonia is in my house right this minute, sleeping. Sleeping without guards to watch over her.”
“I’m watching over her.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s fucking helpless,” I reply, losing my patience. “She can’t access her powers for some reason, and now she’s stuck.”
“So she can fly–”
“It’s not flying, Pat, for fuck’s sake–”
“I’m just trying to make sense of this–”
I run my hand down my face and groan into my palm before just… telling him everything–from the beginning. From the very beginning.
Pat listens intently, occasionally nodding, laughing, or smirking depending on the context, but when I tell him about seeing her last night, spying on us, his expression falls flat, then turns skeptical.
“Why would she come here?”
“I don’t think she meant to,” I admit. “I’m not sure what happened, and neither is she, but it’s obvious I’m stuck with her, and I just can’t–I tried to wipe my hands clean of this. Robbing the castle was a huge risk. I spent months preparing. She is the one thing I didn’t prepare for.”
“Did the Hounds recognize her?”
“No,” I breathe. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“She’s been out of the public eye for years,” Patton says, rising to pour himself another cup of coffee. “That’s on your side, I suppose.”
“You recognized her immediately.”
“You know I like my gossip magazines,” he says with a soft smile. “It’s the eyes, Soren. She needs to keep them covered, just like you do.”
“Duke recognized her,” I add with a huff, leaning my elbows on the table.
“So? What is he going to do? Run to the Viper and tell her where you are and who you’re with? He’s in heavier shit with her than you, you know. He wouldn’t risk it if he knows what’s good for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know the details, but he fell out of her good graces. He’s broke. She’s keeping him shackled but blue balling him on jobs. He’s been coming here off and on for a few weeks. I think he’s got a den where he’s been gambling a few towns over. He’s asked me for money a time or two.”
“And you say no.”
“I say no,” he confirms.
“I don’t want him around Maeve.”
“I can tell,” he deadpans, but his eyes search mine before he leans forward, whispering, “You’re sure you’re not, like, kind of into her?”
I grind my teeth. “You wanna go there?”
“Just asking.”
“She’s a princess.”
“And?”
“She’s the most annoying, aggravating person I’ve ever met in my life.”
“Well, it seems the two of you have that in common.”
I narrow my eyes to slits, but Patton shoots me a playful smile. “Just saying I feel the tension pouring off you, Soren.”
“I’m tense because this isn’t how this was supposed to go.”
“You thought she’d just let this slide?”
“She’s a royal. She has an endless supply of money–”
“You know who her grandfather is, right? King Ryatt? King of the Rogues? Shadow King of the Roguelands? He’s the reason we’re not under the yoke of the old kings anymore. He was a slave, like us. You think he lets the women in his family forget where they came from and how easily their life of luxury could be taken away? I don’t think you’re giving the princess enough credit.”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. Patton is a total royal family freak. He knows every name, every familial connection. It’s like a hobby of his. I know for a fact he has a picture of Alpha King Ryatt and Queen Ella hanging in his bedroom, like he prays to them every night.
Having Maeve in his cabin is likely the highlight of his life so far.
“Would you like me to ask Maeve to autograph your fancy linen napkins?”
His eyes go momentarily wide. “Would she?”
“What’s wrong with you, Pat? Seriously?”
“What’s wrong with you? You had the gall to steal from her? You know what the press says about her. She’s–she’s the most powerful being in our world. She’s a full-blooded Firestone witch. The first in–what? Three thousand years–”
“You really believe all that?”
“You don’t?”
“I believe,” I growl, losing my patience, “that she’s a whole lot more powerful than she’s ever led herself to believe and terrified to show it.” I lean forward, my entire body reacting to the sudden onrush of fury as the memory of fighting with her in the apartment comes rushing to the forefront of my mind, exploding in full color. “She’s terrified of herself because everyone around her is scared of her. She thinks she’s tough, cruel, and cold as ice, but it’s a front.”
“And you’re not scared of her.”
“Not at all.”
A creak on the stairs makes us both turn to the shadow looming over the living room. Maeve appears looking lost, rubbing her eyes. Her thick mane of brown hair is mussed from a deep, dark kind of sleep, and her eyes are slightly puffy when she brings her hands down and blinks at us.
Patton nearly falls out of his chair in his haste to stand, bursting into chipper, lifting questions, asking if she’s hungry, if she likes eggs, telling her he can brew fresh coffee and baked two loaves of bread this morning because he wasn’t sure if she likes whole grain or sourdough, so he made both, and also baked blueberry muffins, none of which did he offer me in the last half hour he’s been grilling me on my fucking intentions with the princess.
And Maeve just… beams at him. Her beautiful mouth pulls into the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen, her eyes creasing and bright as she nods.
I feel a sudden, choking rush of jealousy.
I want that smile. I want it for myself.
I want to wring Patton’s neck when he asks if she wants to meet his flock of chickens, and she excitedly claps her hands.
Because she looks at me and that smile instantly fades, replaced by something more tight-lipped, something that makes me want to either curl my fingers around her dainty neck and command her to smile at me like that or get on my knees and beg for it.
What the actual fuck is wrong with me?
So, I sulk on the porch, sipping my coffee and frowning while Patton and his princess feed his chickens. Maeve’s barefoot in the grass, her hair spilling down her back as she gathers eggs and admires their color and shape while Patton grins with pride. He’ll never forget this. I was right–this moment will go down in history as the best day of his life.
I’m more happy for him than I’m annoyed, though. He’s a good guy. He’s not the kind of man who should be wearing that silver shackle. He’s not the kind of guy the Viper needs, nor wants. No.
He’s in that silver band because of me. He’s my tether to the Viper. He’s the reason I need to pay off this debt. If I step out of line, Patton is the one who’s going to pay for it. I can’t have that weight on my shoulders any longer. I don’t want that for him. He should be able to feel his wolf. He should have found his mate by now and settled, had a few kids. That’s the kind of life he’s always deserved.
It’s why I bought him this property in the middle of nowhere. He’s happy here. He’s safe here.
Maeve hurries up the steps with a dozen eggs resting in her shirt, cradling the fabric like a basket. She looks so… so peaceful right now.
So, I ruin that peace by reminding her why we’re here. “How are you feeling? Powers back yet?”
She frowns at me, shaking her head. “Not quite.”
“Not quite, what? Can you go home yet?”
She straightens her spine while Patton absently frolics around the chicken coop, totally oblivious to the flame beginning to burn to life on his porch.
“You act like you’re desperate to get rid of me,” she drawls sarcastically. “I thought we were having fun. And,” she says, cocking her hip, “you mentioned a truce last night.”
“Are you prepared to forgive me for breaking your necklace?”
“No.”
“Then no truce yet.” I bring my coffee to my lips. Her eyes follow the motion for a split second before she turns into the house, her cheeks going a rosy pink.
“You know,” Patton says a few minutes later as he climbs up the porch steps, “she might actually want to forgive you, and maybe even be your friend, if you were a little fucking nicer to her.”
“I’m not in the business of making friends.”