“What do they do?”
“They just…” He gestured to their sleeping forms, mindful of my raised blade. “They do this.”
“They’re dreaming,” you said, and it made sense as to why they were holding hands, in order to form an oneiric connection between them.
“A clever way to conspire,” Hyas said.
“We need to know what they’re plotting,” you said, and I didn’t find your word choice to be very prudent. We were in the company of three bloodthirsty warborn, far underground, where there’d be no witnesses to tell of what transpired.
“I should join them,” you said, already kneeling by Lena to get into position.
“You’ll need to mask your form,” Lucian said. “Have you ever dreamed yourself as something else?”
“A cat,” you replied readily, “and a couple of times, a lion.”
“Perhaps try a cat. It’s a little less conspicuous,” I suggested.
“Can you calm me?” You were already lying down with your hand intertwined with Lena’s. You took up Orcus’s hand on the other side, completing the chain.
While Anika bound and gagged the guard, I put your head on my lap and ran my hand through your hair in soothing strokes, then whispered soft words of lassitude. Soon enough, your eyes closed, and your breathing deepened.
“What do you think’s going on?” Hyas asked. I remained tight-lipped, not wanting to provide any conjectures but knowing all the same, it was nothing good.
“Perhaps Mother is lobbying the Grigori on an upcoming vote,” Lucian suggested weakly.
“There is no vote,” Aretha said.
That would be the most innocuous of all the schemes she could be plotting. I suspected Lucian knew that as well. I placed your head on a pillow and stood to face him, laying one hand on his shoulder. “I need to know now, Lucian, where do your loyalties lie? With Vincent or with our mother?”
Lucian blinked slowly and glanced from you to Lena. Under any other circumstance, it might be touching to see mother and son resting so peacefully beside one another, hands clasped as though in close affection. In another life, that was Lucian, the son who’d always idolized our mother, had wanted nothing more than for her to love him as a mother should, but Lena was simply incapable.
“Vincent,” he said, though he didn’t seem confident.
“You’re sure? Because you can leave now, and I won’t fault you for it.”
“No,” Lucian insisted. “I’m staying.”
I nodded, then turned to our company. “We need to be prepared when they wake.” In a swift orchestration, we spread ourselves to the outer edges of the room, weapons brandished so that we’d not lose the element of surprise. Lucian was the only one empty-handed, though he was far more proficient with his mudra than with his blades.
“Are you ready?” I asked him. He only nodded, gaze transfixed to where you and Lena slept soundly. I kept close by, just in case I needed to compel him, though if it came down to a battle between us, I wasn’t confident I would win.
