He lowered his cup ofti’chaland asked in a mild tone, “Something disturbs you,elska’adir?”
Trying not to grind her molars into powder, Ursula set her cup down with a decisive click on the saucer and said, “Yes,darling, something disturbs me.”
He blinked and maintained his silence, waiting.
“I hate when you do that,” she muttered under her breath. Then, before he could say anything in response, she said, “What’s going on in the capital?”
“Nothing for you to worry about,” he replied.
Ursula’s eyes narrowed. “My mates are engaged in dangerous activity. Donottell menotto worry.”
He nodded. “Then I will not tell you.”
Her fists clenched. She took a deep breath to calm herself, counting silently to ten. Then she took another breath becausethe first failed its purpose. When she could finally speak without shrieking, she said, “Please tell me what’s going on. Not knowing is driving me crazy.”
“Your ignorance keeps you and Crow safe,” he replied and took another sip as though there were nothing to worry about and she were being unreasonable. He met her gaze, his own implacable. “What you do not know you cannot divulge.”
With icy fury, Ursula rose from the chair, every movement controlled and precise. She slid the chair under the table and turned toward him. “You know being treated like this infuriates me.”
Zul nodded. “I know.”
“And you do not care.”
His expression did not change, but something glinted in his eyes. Perhaps it was regret. Or maybe it was just annoyance. “I do care.”
“But you will not relent.”
“No.”
Her voice throbbing with the force of her emotion, she still managed to avoid yelling and said in a low tone, “Then go… to… hell.”
She turned on her heel and left the room. The door closed quietly behind her, a servant scrambling to ensure it did not slam. The castratus’ attention to that detail was not necessary.
Fists clenched, Zul leaned back in the chair and tilted his head so his face was parallel to the vaulted ceiling far above. He exhaled and relaxed his fists, pressing his palms flat on the table. The castratus in the room gazed at him, eyes wide with wariness and ready to flee. An enraged berserker was dangerous. Meeting the servant’s wide-eyed fright, he exhaled again and murmured, “She’s both scary and impressive when she’s furious, isn’t she?”
The castratus squeaked and fled.
Zul exhaled an expletive. The profane word felt cathartic and helped him master his own emotions. He knew his berserker nature intimately: emotions were difficult to control, and control was critical to avoid hurting innocents. He had to admit to himself that no one had ever roused his emotions like his gorgeous mate.He didn’t know whether he wanted to throttle her or fuck her, but he refused to yield to the impulse of the first and knew she would not welcome the impulse of the second. She had vowed to receive him in joy, not anger.
He heard the jingle and rattle of harness through the window and looked outside. With another muttered curse, he stood and rushed to join his mate and her son before they left without him. Ignoring his arrival, she grabbed the lines from the servant sitting next to her and snapped them against the numpties’ broad backs and set them into lumbering motion. Zul fell into step beside the hoverwagon.
“Good morning, Papa Zul,” Crow greeted him with a bright smile.
“Good morning, Crow,” Zul replied as he easily kept pace.
The child glanced at his mother then leaned down toward the berserker and whispered, “Mama’smad.”
Zul nodded. “Yes, I know.”
“Do you know why?”
Zul refused to lie to the youngling. “I do.”
“Is she mad at you?”
Zul accepted the blame. “Yes.”
“Then why don’t you fix it?”
