Blaine shook his head, a pained expression crossing his face. “I can’t. You know why.”
Honovi clenched his hand into a fist, crushing the warrant. “I won’t see you dead for your duty, Blaine.”
“Those of the Westergard bloodline have died for Rourkes before this.”
“You aren’t a Westergard. You’re clan. You’re myhusband,” Honovi said fiercely.
Blaine reached up and framed Honovi’s face with both hands, fingers cool against his skin. “I’m bound by the Dusk Star’s decree until my duty is done. You know that.”
That decree had kept them separated the last few years, clandestine meetings here in the E’ridian embassy their only true moments of togetherness. The separation wasn’t one Honovi wanted to continue.
He resented Caris and knew it was foolish to do so. The girl didn’t know who or what she was, that had been apparent during the meeting in Meleri’s parlor. Her lack of knowledge meant Blaine couldn’t leave her side. Honovi didn’t know how his husband could keep her safe when his face was now on a warrant and every debt collector worth their pistols would be hunting him from here on out.
“You put her at risk if you stay. You have to know that.”
Blaine’s expression twisted, mouth opening to argue, but his words died in his throat as the door to the telegraph room opened. Honovi looked over his shoulder, frowning at who stood there.
“Siv? What are you doing here? I thought you went back to the residences?” Honovi asked as he turned to face her.
Siv’s answer didn’t come in the form of words but a bullet that ripped across his right side with a brutalness that stole the breath from his lungs. His ears rang with the sound of the discharge, Blaine’s furious shout echoing from a distance as Honovi staggered from the hit, one hand pressed to the bleeding wound.
Another gunshot echoed in the air as he crashed to his knees, and he flinched but didn’t take another bullet. Then his nerves caught up with his brain, and the agonizing pain of beingshotslammed through his body, making him groan.
He lifted his head in time to see Siv on the floor, her head turned toward him, fingers twitching against wood as blood pooled beneath her. The pistol she’d carried was now in Blaine’s hands, his husband stumbling away from where she lay.
“Honovi!” Blaine cried out.
The pistols clattered to the floor beside him as Blaine hurriedly stripped off his jacket, balling it up to press it to the wound in Honovi’s side. Honovi cried out from the pressure, black spots eating away at the edge of his vision.
Thunder pounded through his head, coalescing into a handful of guards who ran into the telegraph room, nearly tripping over Siv’s body.
“Ambassador!” someone shouted.
“Someone get me a magician! Honovi’s been shot,” Blaine snapped, gaze never leaving Honovi’s face.
“Who are you?” one demanded.
“His husband.”
Hands helped Honovi lie down, and the pressure on the wound made him clench his teeth so hard he nearly chipped a tooth. “Blaine?”
Fingers touched his cheek, his husband blocking out the sudden brightness overhead as the lights were turned on in the telegraph room.
“I’m here. I’m right here,” Blaine said, voice cracking. “We need to check if the bullet is still in you.”
Honovi hissed as he was rolled half onto his side, fingers pulling at his clothes. He cried out when fingers touched the searing pain in his back, barely hearing Blaine’s shaky sigh over the ringing in his ears.
“Looks like it’s a through and through, but a doctor will need to assess it further. I need another cloth to stop the bleeding,” Blaine said.
“You’re all right?” Honovi ground out, blinking tears out of his eyes.
Blaine laughed hoarsely, no mirth in the sound. “Better than you.”
Fingers curled around his own, and Honovi gripped his husband’s hand tight enough to bruise. Someone leaned what felt like their entire weight on the bullet wound, causing Honovi to nearly black out. Breathing hurt, or maybe it was the overriding pain in his body.
He swallowed hard, mouth strangely dry. “Siv was clan.”
“Siv was a traitor.”
