The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3)(141)
“I’ll get you another then, shall I?” Adonis offered.
“Patricio, dear,” Dubheasa broke in. “You’re looking rather grim. Is it possible that you do not share Adonis’ happy view of Saamal as just one of the boys?”
The innocence in the queen’s voice blatantly contradicted the needling nature of her comment. And unfortunately, she’d honed in on precisely the right person. Adonis bit back a curse. Patricio had all the social grace of an alligator with a toothache, and he wasn’t one to hold back when there was someone to be judged.#p#分页标题#e#
“I’ve never made it a secret that I don’t think innocent people should be made to shed their blood.” Patricio met Saamal’s eyes, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.
It wasn’t a threat. Touching his sword was a natural reaction for Patricio whenever there was talk of spilling blood. Still, it was an unfortunate peccadillo to have under the circumstances. Adonis tightened his grip on a fresh glass of whiskey and made a beeline for the winged harbinger of justice.
The two men were not far from one another, Saamal’s chair only a few feet from the bookcase holding the angel up. Saamal barely had to turn his head to meet the cold blue stare being leveled at him.
“You do not approve of my wife’s new terms, of taking a drop of blood from every man, woman, and child to feed our land?” Saamal leaned back, the picture of ease and comfort. “You would perhaps prefer that we go back to the old ways, when it was one man every year who gave up his life and every drop of blood in his veins to Chipactli?”
A wave of blue light fell over Patricio’s blue eyes. “I think you could find someone who deserves such a fate. Someone for whom the punishment would be suited to his crimes.” His voice grew softer, almost a whisper. “I could find you such a person.”
Saamal raised his glass of wine to his lips, spoke over the rim. “Not everyone finds sin as intoxicating as you, my friend. Chipactli has sacrificed a great deal. She deserves more than to be thrown a common criminal, to be relegated to little more than a living guillotine.”
Adonis shoved a glass of whiskey at Patricio and the angel fumbled to take it before it sloshed all over his white robes. He didn’t dare say anything for fear Dubheasa’s excellent hearing would pick up on it, but he met Patricio’s eyes, held them. He glanced back at Dubheasa without moving his head, then back at Patricio. She’s baiting you, you idiot. Shut up.
Patricio closed his mouth, stared at Adonis in silent acknowledgement. Some of the tension in Adonis’ spine slid away and he let out the breath he’d been holding to turn back to the room.
Dubheasa was watching him, her expression intent, but unreadable. Smothering a brief flare of panic that somehow she might have read his mind, Adonis took a step toward her to offer her a drink. Before he could make it to her side, Dubheasa planted her hands on the arms of her chair and half-launched herself at him, plucking a glass from his hand without slowing down before coming to stand in front of Kirill. There was something in her eyes that said she was about to stir up more trouble, and Adonis quickly poured more whiskey.
“Again, I find I must apologize for my terrible lack of manners,” Adonis said loudly, drawing everyone’s attention before Dubheasa could speak. He took two glasses of whiskey and walked over to the couch where Robin and Marian sat. “It’s only just occurred to me that I’ve completely failed to inquire after your health. Here this evening was supposed to be about you, and yet all we’ve done is talk about one another.”
Robin took the hint, picked up the new conversation with practiced ease. “Think nothing of it, it’s been a pleasure getting to know all of you. Always interesting when so many strong personalities gather in one room.” He accepted the whiskey Adonis offered and waved the glass under his nose with an appreciative inhale. “As to my health, I’m feeling quite well. Everything is healing nicely.”
Adonis offered the other glass to Marian. She glanced at the offered glass, but shook her head. Her red hair slid over her shoulders, the twists and turns of her thin braids catching the firelight. He smothered a swell of disappointment. He’d feel better if the woman with the itchy trigger finger would commit to holding a glass of whiskey.#p#分页标题#e#
“It still itches,” Robin added. “Iron injuries are terrible for the skin. Honestly, I don’t know how humans can bear to heal so slowly. It must be maddening.” A deep frown darkened his face, chasing the light from his green eyes. “What’s really disturbing is that he managed to bury his claws so deep without gutting me. If he’d pierced any of my organs, he could have killed me.”