“And that’s why Olivia, your best female warrior, isn’t allowed inside your treehouse?” She folded her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes, the small space between us sizzling with anger and an awareness I couldn’t—wouldn’t—admit. It was like the air itself had picked up on the tension and was preparing for fight or flight.
“Olivia has always been and will always be Avianna’s bodyguard. The position itself is more honorable than my own, and her dedication is unflinchingly to Avi. Would she swear into our order, her allegiance would be to Alek first, the race second, and then her friend. I wouldn’t expect a witch from a matriarchal power structure to understand.” I shook my head. “This is why we don’t allow cross-species relationships.”
“Because vampires are a bunch of misogynists who would rather see their princess tucked safely into bed with a lollipop than let her spy for her people? A war is coming, Benny-boo. If not from the Sons, then from this new threat. You know it. I know it.”
“So you support her asinine decision to stay in danger?” My jaw ticked and I pushed off the dresser.
“I support my friend’s decision to fight, and I’d support her choice if she wanted to come home. She’s a fully grown woman—” She shook her head. “Female. She has the right to self-determination and a say in what she does with her life!” The ends of her lavender hair began to rise as though static had filled the room, but I knew better. She was pissed.
“Sounds like you’re not really talking about Avi anymore, Jocelyn,” I said softly. That kind of passion came from another motivation—a more personal one. My brow puckered in confusion. Was the heir to the witch throne...discontent with her path?
Her eyes widened slightly and her hair rose higher, coming level with her chin.
A knock sounded at the door.
“I’ll get it.” I yanked the handle open a little too hard and found Alek on the other side, worry etched into every line of his face. “My king.”
He looked past me to Jocelyn and his eyebrows rose, his gaze flickering from mine to hers. “Someone pissed off a witch,” he muttered too quietly for Jocelyn to hear. She might be able to throw purple bolts of die-now-you-scum energy, but witches weren’t gifted with the hearing we were.
“Every fucking day,” I mumbled.
A quick, smothered laugh escaped his lips before he looked at Jocelyn again. “May I enter?”
“Sure.” She shrugged, her hair still flying on an absent breeze.
“I wanted to be sure you’re okay with what I’ve asked of you,” Alek said to Jocelyn as he stepped inside her room. “You’re not one of my subjects, and asking is...”
“Weird,” I offered.
“Weird,” Alek agreed.
“I’m fine.” Jocelyn put the last item in her bag. “If one—or more—of the coven leaders is plotting against my mother, then I have no problem going home to take out the trash, or even taking Benny here with me.”
“Benny?” Alek mouthed at me.
I sighed.
“But I do have a suggestion,” she said, zipping the bag. “If I get to have suggestions, that is. I’m not sure how it really works around here.”
Damn, her tone was flippant, especially since Alek could crush her mind with a single thought, or worse—make Jocelyn crush it herself.
I shifted my position on instinct, stepping slightly between them.
“Go ahead,” Alek said, folding his arms across his chest.
“Don’t tell my mother,” she said simply.
“Go on.” Alek didn’t blink.
“I know you don’t know much about coven politics—”
“Try anything,” I corrected. The witches were more secretive than the lycans. We didn’t even know their true numbers or how many covens there were.
“Information is power,” she said to me with a sweet smile that immediately put me on edge in more ways than one. “And we’re not big on giving away any of our power.” Her hair was still fluttering around her and she turned her attention back to Alek. “If my mother suspects any of the coven leaders are conspiring against her, she’ll simply drag them all to the pyre and install new leaders. You’ll never get the answers you’re looking for.”
“Blood thirsty,” Alek noted with an appreciative nod.
“Brutal, yet effective,” Jocelyn answered, coming around the bed towards us. “You don’t think mommy dearest has stayed in power by being benevolent and handing out sweets, do you? Lady Macbeth has nothing on her.”
Alek studied Jocelyn for a moment and finally turned to me. “Benedict?”
“She’s not lying.” The last words on my arms were I hate ice cream and I’m not tired. Both were courtesy of Jocelyn.
“Strategy?” he asked, not taking his eyes from my witch.
Not. Fucking. Yours.
I swallowed that unwelcome thought and shifted my weight. Thinking of her as mine was only because she was my assignment, my duty, my perpetual fucking headache. “It’s sound. We tell Genevieve that we’re searching her land for Avianna, and Jocelyn here is my escort.”