As she mounted the steps to the grand double doors, she was breaking in half, shattering sure as if her bones had turned brittle and were collapsing under the weight of her muscles. But she kept going, because that was what fighters did. They pushed on past the pain and took out their objective - and sure as shit she and John were killing something tonight, something that had been so precious and rare she was ashamed of them both for not finding a way to nurture it in the midst of the cold, hard world.
Inside the vestibule, she didn't step up immediately to the camera's eye. Never a prepper-upper kind of female, she nonetheless found herself brushing fingertips under her eyes and shuffling a palm over her short hair. A quick straightening of her leather jacket - and her spine - and she told herself to suck it up.
She had gotten through legions of things worse than this.
Through pride alone, she could marshal some self-control for the next ten or fifteen minutes.
She had the rest of her natural life to lose her goddamn composure in private.
With a curse, she hit the summons button and stepped back, forcing herself to look into the camera. As she waited, she straightened her jacket again. Stomped her boots. Double-checked that her guns were where they'd been holstered.
Played with her hair.
Okay, what the hell.
Leaning to the side, she gave that button another stab. The doggen here had high standards. You rang that bell, and it was answered within moments.
On the third try, she debated how many more times she was going to have to beg for -
The vestibule's inner door was thrown wide and Fritz looked mortified. "My lady! I am so sorry - "
A loud cacophony drowned out whatever else the butler said, and she frowned as she looked past the old male. Up over the doggen's white head, at the top of the grand staircase, there was a tremendous crowd milling around and drifting off, as if a party had just broken up.
Maybe someone had just told everybody they were getting mated.
Good luck with that, she thought.
"Big announcement?" she asked as she stepped through into the foyer and braced herself for someone else's happy news.
"More a recognition. " The butler put his weight, such as it was, into shutting the door. "I shall allow the others to inform you. "
Ever the dutiful butler - discreet to his very marrow.
"I'm here to see - "
"The Brotherhood. Yes, I know. "
Xhex frowned. "It was Wrath, I thought. "
"Well, yes, of course the king as well. Please come up to the royal study. "
As she crossed the mosaic floor and started her ascent, she nodded at the folks coming down. . . the shellans, the staff she knew, the people she had lived with for a mere matter of weeks, but who had become, in a short time, a sort of family to her.
She was going to miss them almost as much as John.
"Madam?" the butler asked. "Are you all right?"
Xhex forced a smile and guessed she had probably let out some kind of curse. "Fine, just fine. "
When she got to Wrath's study, there was so much approval in the air, she practically had to push the shit aside to walk into the room: The Brothers were all thick chested with pride. . . except for Qhuinn, who was blushing so deeply he'd turned himself into a Roman candle.
John, however, appeared reserved - not looking at her at all, but at some middle ground right in front of himself.
From behind the desk, Wrath focused on her. "And now on to business," the king announced.
As the doors shut behind her, she had no fucking clue what was doing. John still refused to even glance at her. . . and, shit, the king had a wound on his neck - assuming he hadn't decided that white gauze at the throat was some kind of fashion statement.
Everyone shut up, settled down, got serious.