“I take care of what’s mine. You’re my Bride.”
“So is Eli.”
His eyes flash, and he goes back to combing my hair. “Eli requires a different approach.”
Every instinct demands I put as much distance between us as possible. I already know that Abel won’t tolerate me doing it physically—not right now—so I do the only thing I can think of. I change the subject. “It’s very important to me that the programs Eli and I have created over the last five years aren’t eliminated.”
Abel doesn’t look up. “Tell me about the programs.”
I try to focus. This is what I want, after all. The entire reason why I’ve submitted to Abel. Maybe not the entire reason. I ignore that last bit. “Only a part of the tithes go to the compound, only enough to keep it running. The rest go to ensuring no one goes hungry in the faction. We have grocery drops twice a week in several set locations.” He still seems more focused on my hair than on what I’m saying, but I don’t miss the way his expression tightens.
I take a breath and keep going. “We’ve also had more regular patrols, mostly to have a visible presence, but also so that our people are available for any reports that need to be handled.”
“Reports.”
It’s not a question, but I answer all the same. “Domestic violence has gone down more than seventy percent since Eli took over. Other crimes like assault and murder have also decreased substantially. He spent a year making examples, and it’s worked.” No matter what else I feel about Eli, I cannot fault him for what he’s done to improve this faction. If someone like him had been in charge when I was a child, I wouldn’t have endured years of living under my father’s roof, subject to his mercurial moods and abuse.
“I see.” Abel idly drags his fingers through my hair. “Your programs are safe, Harlow. I promise.”
I want to press him, to demand more, but Abel’s already said that he’ll never lie to me. Why would he lie about this? I take a slow breath and let it go. “In that case, we need to talk about the Brides. They’re going to be a problem. Or at least some of them are. Beatrix of the Mystics is here. Jasper didn’t seem particularly happy about it, but the one you really have to watch is Fallon. She’s a powder keg about to explode. Monroe is, too, but in a different way.” Of the two, I’d be hard-pressed to decide which is the most dangerous.
He pauses briefly and then keeps brushing my hair. “Ezekiel will handle things with Jasper and Beatrix. It’s messy, but likely for the best that he has both of them here.”
Because, once upon a time, they used to be friends. Everyone knows the story, though it reads more like a fairy tale than reality. A Paine, an Amazon, and a Mystic—the best of friends. For most of their teen years and into their twenties, they were nearly inseparable despite their respective parents’ best efforts. Until the coup against the Paines. And then Jasper and Beatrix’s friendship turned to something more in the years since. It has to sting for Ezekiel to come back to that. “What will he do?”
“That’s his business.” Abel sets my brush down and runs his fingers through my damp hair. “Aside from the heirs, what was your impression?”
“Matteo is classic Mystic. Sort of checked out and chill. It could be an act, but if it is, he’s never once slipped in the time we’ve been watching the Mystic faction.” He’s several spots down the line for the throne, so I honestly think he’s just a strange anomaly in the ruling family. The rest of them are feral. “Mabel, the Mystic’s youngest wife, is a mouse. She didn’t say much and basically hid in the shadow of her bodyguard.”
Abel makes a face. “The bodyguard is a complication.”
“You should have known she would be. The Mystic leader inherited her with the marriage.” I have to fight not to lean back into his touch as his hands land on my shoulders, thumbs digging into the tight knots there. I hiss out a breath and have to close my eyes. “Winry is exactly what she seems to be. She’s the favorite daughter, the sheltered one—as much as an Amazon can be sheltered. She’s a good kid, and she’s scared out of her mind and trying not to show it.” I force my eyes open to find him watching me with a strange expression on his face. “What?”
“Nothing.” Abel slowly releases me, pausing when I weave on my feet a little, and steps back. “Winry will be fine. She’s made of stronger stuff than everyone expects.”
Maybe so, but… I turn to face him. “Why did you give her to Cohen? Of all your brothers, he’s the…” I hesitate. “Coldest.” More like terrifying and icy and deadly. Abel is deadly, too, but he’s got a fire inside him that makes him feel a thousand times more human than his younger brother.