She stopped when she reached the top of the stairs. The wide, stone stairs with no handrails.
She could try going down on her butt…
Nikolett looked back over her shoulder. “Colum!”
The door popped open, the Irishman’s head poking out once more. “Er…yes?”
“Help me.” She pointed to the stairs with one crutch.
“Nikolett—” Eric started for her and she pointed the crutch at him in warning. She held his gaze for just a moment, but whatever he saw in her eyes was enough to make him stop moving toward her.
Iacob looked over his shoulder, brows drawn together with concern when he realized she couldn’t safely get down on her own. He slowly started to disengage from Keanu, but Colum got to her first.
The archivist looked at her, the stairs, and then back to her.
“You want me to carry you?”
“Yes. Everyone else I know is in the middle of trying to kill someone.”
Colum’s gaze slid to Eric.
“Or is an asshole,” she added.
“That’s true enough,” Colum said.
Eric leaned back against the wall and started thumping his head against the stone. Good. Maybe he’d give himself a brain injury.
“Sure, but I’ll give it a go.” Colum reached for her.
Xavier, Colum’s new husband, had followed him and now lunged, grabbing Colum’s arm. “You’ll drop her.”
“Probably I wouldn’t.” Colum’s head cocked as he studied her like she was furniture he was trying to move.
Iacob, sensing a more immediate threat to her person than the gun, abruptly released Keanu, only to be stopped by Regina’s gun at the back of his head as she demanded he hand over the knife.
Nikolett swallowed the urge to scream, looking at Xavier. “You. Help me. Please.”
He arched a dark brow but gently took her crutches, passing them to Colum. Colum had to stop and shove his phone in his pocket. The screen was lit up…was he on a call?
Before she could get distracted by that, Xavier gently lifted her. Nikolett had to take a few steadying breaths as the shift in position made her leg throb.
“I didn’t realize he’d forced you to stay too,” Xavier murmured, so low only she could hear. “It sets a bad precedent.”
Nikolett looked at the man who’d been raised to be the next admiral of France. He never would be, first because he clearly didn’t want the job, and second because Colum had to live in Dublin. Xavier would split his time between Ireland and France. That was acceptable for a finance minister but not for the admiral.
But Xavier had been raised to understand the politics of both his territory and the Masters’ Admiralty.
“It does,” she agreed, using the same quiet tone. “This turned into a farce, even with the guns and knives, so it’s not too bad.”
“No one was really going to shoot or cut,” Xavier agreed, then smirked slightly. “Iacob and Keanu might have ended up fucking…”
Nikolett snorted. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thought there was a different kind of tension.”
Xavier reached the bottom of the stairs, and for a moment they were alone, Colum having gotten distracted halfway down as he studied one of the stones in the stairwell. Nikolett leaned against the wall, waiting for her crutches.
“If he’d refused to let you go,” Xavier said softly, “it could have started a civil war.”
Nikolett swallowed hard. Stuck in that bed, she’d thought the same thing but tried to convince herself she was wrong.
