Damien. Jacquelyn Frank

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СКАЧАТЬ deadly. There are just too many random, uncontained factors. You are the only one I know who will have the power and, clearly, the fearlessness it will take to stand up to members on all sides. You are not afraid of The Pride, which makes you unique among us. I admit even I cannot boast that bravery one hundred percent. You are not poisoned against Demons, and you are fully aware of my desire to maintain this peace with them. You have always defended and championed my political desires. Neither are you afraid of the Demons.

      “What I am saying,” she continued after taking a breath, “is that you are the next best thing to being there myself. I trust you and need you to do this.”

      “I understand,” Syreena said, giving her sister a wry little smile. “I am Princess of this court, but I am queen of riding both sides of a fence.”

      “You say that as if your ability to care for multiple aspects of a situation is a bad thing,” Siena countered, coming closer so she could study Syreena’s features thoughtfully. “I have found it to be the most valuable thing about you.”

      “Yes, I know,” Syreena agreed quietly.

      What Siena did not realize was that this was true of everyone. Everyone found great value in Syreena and everyone coveted her dual-sided nature. The trouble was finding a point of reconciliation. Not with Siena, because Siena would care for her and respect her even if she grew twenty heads and twenty personalities to match. However, no one in their society, the Queen included, saw Syreena as a single being. She was always a singular one. They enjoyed one of her aspects or the other, but, other than the uniqueness of it, rarely both as a whole.

      The court delighted in her mysteriousness. The Pride exploited the fact that they had discovered all of her inimitable talents along with her. The Monks wished to parent her into submission, the public wished to have her wed and bred into it.

      Even Siena was guilty of the need to label her and tuck her neatly onto a categorized shelf. It was merely that the Queen’s shelf was larger than most, perhaps able to accommodate the unexpected. To everyone else in Lycanthrope society, Syreena was admired as, say, a wild horse would be admired by the humans who captured it. Intelligent, yes. Even a bit dangerous. Something of power and beauty, meant to be broken to ride and bred for her bloodlines and genetic superiority. Serving dutifully the causes of others, never allowed to simply travel her own way.

      If she had a self-created way.

      In all fairness, Syreena didn’t even know if she had a direction of her own. She didn’t know if she was a single being, or always two halves, rather than a whole.

      “Syreena?”

      “Hmm?” She looked up, aware that she had lost track of her sister in her pursuit of her own thoughts. “I am sorry, what did you say?”

      “I asked you if something was bothering you,” Siena said, changing the question on the fly. She had seen the frown and confusion warring in the depths of her sister’s harlequin features.

      “Nothing out of the ordinary,” Syreena brushed her off, seeming to shake off her thoughts as she shook back her hair.

      Siena was not fooled. Lycanthrope hair was a living appendage, with blood flow, tensile ability, and even nerve endings. The toss of Syreena’s head was their cultural equivalent to rubbing or shaking out one’s hands, as if warding off a chill.

      “Then tell me the ordinary,” Siena invited softly, reaching to take her sister’s arm and lead her into the depths of the cavern castle that made up their royal household.

      “I was just wondering if I was up to the task you are setting before me,” Syreena half lied. “You will be purposely standing me in potentially troubled waters. I am more used to avoiding such obvious situations of conflict. I am better suited to advising you what to do, putting you or others on your behalf into conflict.” Siena laughed when Syreena gave a rueful chuckle. “Perhaps it will do me good,” Syreena said a bit more brightly. “It may temper my readiness to throw others to the wolves in the future.”

      “That is the voice of a true philosopher, always hungry for a learning experience.” Siena paused for several moments as they turned in the direction of Syreena’s quarters. “Are you happy here, my sister?”

      Syreena stopped, turning to look at the Queen with surprise. “Of course I am. Do you doubt my adjustment?”

      “No. It took you some time, but you have adapted to royal life and responsibility quite well. But that isn’t what I asked you. I want to know if you are happy…personally. In your heart.”

      Syreena smiled at Siena, linking their arms and guiding her forward once again.

      “I am not as happy as you are,” she teased her. “I do not have a handsome new husband making me happy every night”—she paused a purposeful beat for her own mischief—“and every morning, too, I am told.”

      Siena threw back her head, laughing with delight even as she allowed herself a bit of a blush.

      “Damn, I hate being Queen sometimes. I cannot even use the bathroom without someone taking note of it.” She self-consciously reached to fluff the thick, golden filament coils of her hair. “I think my attendants are already accounting for my breeding cycles in anticipation of an heir.”

      “Should I be watching as well?” Syreena asked archly.

      “No.” Siena chuckled. “Please. I will be staying quite far away from Elijah when I enter my heat cycle. At least for a few years.”

      “Ha! Now there is a trick I would like to see. Elijah has never struck me as the sort who would relinquish a hard-earned prize for two weeks, even if it is only twice a year. And you have never been through a mated heat cycle before. As hard as it is to keep from the bed of the opposite sex when you are without a mate, I hear it is nearly impossible to tolerate with one.”

      “And yet I am determined to forebear. Elijah and I must learn to live with one another before we think to bring children into the fray.”

      “How like my wife to view everything as a battle.”

      Siena and Syreena both came to a halt as the mocking comment rushed past them on a sudden cavern breeze. In a blink, the Demon warrior coalesced out of his element, metamorphosing from wind to flesh in a heartbeat, standing before them with all the assuredness of the cocky, powerful being that he was. He was a giant man, as golden blond as Syreena’s sister, and roped head to toe with the musculature of a well-seasoned warrior. He wore faded denim jeans and a long-sleeved silk shirt the color of deep turquoise. The dye set off the bright green of his eyes as they roamed the figure of his wife boldly and appreciatively.

      Syreena was the one who stood in the nude, but she realized that to Elijah, her sister was the only one standing undressed before him.

      “Hello.” He greeted Siena softly, his gentle tone taking about ten pounds of armor from his imposing appearance.

      Siena’s return greeting was nonverbal. She released her sister and glided eagerly into Elijah’s opening arms. He hugged the Queen to his body, making her seem somehow much smaller and far more delicate by the reverence with which he did so. It was an impressive trick of perception. Syreena realized then that, as outrageous as it seemed from what she knew of them both, they had somehow become tamed to each other.

      Which was not to say that they were either of them tame in any way. Suggesting such a thing СКАЧАТЬ