Chapter 392

My wolf growls and turns in my soul, worried, wishing I’d had more time to ask Elias about Jesse’s mate, this apparent master spy.

“Luca Grant rejected me,” I say, shrugging and looking down at my plate, willing myself to look sad and contrite about it. “And Jackson McClintock is nothing. A brute. A commoner. I don’t know why the Goddess saw fit to assign me to him.”

It pains me to even say the words and inwardly I shout that each one is untrue, that Jackson is the best thing in my life, the best man I’ve ever met, and I endeavor to deserve him every day.

Gabriel simply laughs softly and leans towards me, drawing my eyes back up to him. “Your relationships to your past mates are nothing to me, Ariel. Especially considering they’ll both be dead in a month.”

I pale at his words, my eyes flashing, even as I work hard to keep my expression plain.

But Gabriel just laughs and begins to push himself up from the chair. “Prepare yourself, Luna, he snaps out. “Tonight I present you to the court and then our mating ceremony will be in a week.” He leans down towards me, wrapping a possessive hand around the side of my neck, his palm pressed flat to Luca’s mark. “And then I’ll mark you myself, and wipe any memory of those pathetic wolves from your mind.”

His hand on my neck tightens as Gabriel pulls me towards him, slamming his mouth on mine, crude and vulgar, a claiming more than a kiss.

Laughing, he breaks away. “And if you do anything to displease me,” he seethes, glaring hard into my eyes. “I’ll pick either Jesse or Juniper from the dungeons, and bring them to your room, and cut their throat before your eyes. In fact, I’ll make you pick which one dies first.”

Without another word Gabriel strides for the door, yanking it open and stepping out into the hall without even looking back. I watch him in horror, my mind racing even as my wolf howls at the idea. Juniper – Jesse – do they – do they really have them both? In the dungeons? Where are those?

“I’m sorry, Ariel,” Elias says a long moment after Gabriel has slammed the door shut. Horrified, I shift my eyes to him. He just shakes his head, sorrow in every line of his face.

“Um,” Pippa says, a bit frantic, looking between us, for some way to make this better. “Maybe we should –“

“Could I…” I murmur, looking down into my lap, fighting my tears. “Just…have a moment alone? Please?”

“Of course, darling,” Pippa says, standing from her chair and coming close to press a soft kiss to my hair. “Of course. As much time as you like.”

Jesse groans when he wakes up, every single muscle in his body seeming to ache with discomfort. He presses his eyes shut as he turns his face into the scratchy straw mat, a hand going to his lower back to massage the twinge there. God, god does he miss his big fluffy bed in the castle, with its dozens of pillows and mountains of nice soft blankets…

“I told you to sleep on the mat with me, where you belong,” Midnight says, smug. “Then you wouldn’t be so achy.”

Jesse sighs and opens his eyes, turning towards where his strange little mate is crouched at the center of the yurt, stirring a pot over a small fire, the steam and smoke rising to disappear from a hole right at the center of the roof.

“But I just met you, Mids,” Jesse murmurs, laying flat on his back and smacking his hands dejectedly on his belly. “What would my mother say, if she heard I spent the night in your bed on the same day we met?”

“She would be happy,” Midnight replies, quite cheerful as she stirs. “Because then we would give her a grandpup, which would be the light of her life –“

Jesse laughs, he can’t help it, and shakes his head. “Mom doesn’t want grandkids right now, Midnight. My youngest sister is four. It would be too confusing for little Fifs, to have a niece who was so close to her age.”

Midnight lifts her head and wrinkles her nose at him. “What kind of name is Fifs for a little girl?”

“Are you seriously asking me this?” Jesse asks, dry. “Midnight?”

She stares at him like he’s speaking gibberish and then shrugs, moving on and turning her attention back to the pot. “Are you hungry, mate-boy?”

Jesse sighs and sits up, staring at the pot like he’s worried about the consequences of his answer. “I am. What’re you cooking?”

“Galushka!” she says, waving a hand over the pot like it’s a magic cauldron.

“What the hell is that?” Jesse asks, dubious. Honestly, he’s not sure he wants to know, because the answer isn’t going to be anything good. When Midnight had brought him to the tent – the yurt, really – last night, he’d been horrified to see that this is her home. The entire thing is so worn, and bare, and patched – it’s like she’s utterly homeless here, and not even with the resources of someone who can seek some sort of assistance or beg for spare change.

But the way she’d ushered him inside and showed him her home…he’d hadn’t had the heart to do anything but tell her how comfortable and lovely the place was. But it was a lie, blatant and boldfaced. The entire yurt contains one small sleeping mat, her “kitchen” – which is just a couple of baskets filled with the bare necessities of cooking supplies and several small, grey potatoes – and the saddest little collection of children’s books that he’s ever seen, alongside a single half-burned candle and a pack of matches.

“Galushka,” Midnight says, spooning some out onto a tin plate and setting it aside at her “table” – a worn red rug spread across a plank of wood next to the fire – before patting the floor, a clear invitation to come sit. “Is my own recipe. It’s shadow cabbage all cooked down until it’s nice and burney. The burning gives it the flavor.”

“What’s shadow cabbage?” Jesse murmurs, crawling across the floor and taking his place at the table, feeling of all things like he’s at one of his siblings’ imaginary tea parties.

“I don’t know,” Midnight murmurs, giving him a little glare. “It’s…that,” she says, nodding her head towards his plate as she dishes out her own. “It’s a vegetable. It grows here. That’s what it’s called.”

Jesse nods and picks up his plate, grimacing inwardly at the sad grey vegetable on his plate and picking up his fork, digging in. His wolf snarls and scratches at his soul. You’d better pretend that’s the most delicious cabbage you ever ate, his wolf orders. You’d better be nice to that poor girl. Jesse nods and sighs again, silently agreeing to it. Quite cheerful, Midnight settles down across from him and begins to dig into her breakfast.

“So, Mids,” Jesse says, forcing himself to forget about the tasteless lump of vegetable in his mouth as he chews. “What’s your favorite food?”

She goes still with her fork halfway to her mouth. “What are you talking about?”

He grins, looking at her, not understanding why this is a difficult question. “Of all the things you eat,” he says, quietly trying to figure out how to be clear about this, “which one do you like the most? Or look forward to?”

She stays still for a moment, staring at him as she considers the question, before she shrugs. “It all pretty much tastes the same.”

Inwardly Jesse groans because…well, because he’s a Sinclair. He loves food and was basically raised on take-out and his aunt Ella’s rather indulgent tendency to pack all the kids in the family full with whatever sweets they like. “It’s all the same?”

“It’s all…potatoes and cabbage. And like, shadow carrots,” Midnight says with a shrug, continuing to eat with gusto. “So, there’s no favorites. It’s just all…that.”

“So…you’ve never had meat?” Jesse asks, his stomach grumbling at the thought of a nice juicy steak. Or, god, all of the bacon they have at the Academy for breakfast – just mountains of it.

His wolf nips him. Eat your galushka.

Easy for you to say, Jesse grumbles to his wolf. Considering you’re incorporeal at the moment.

But Jesse does as he’s told, continuing to clear his plate.

“Of course I’ve had meat,” Midnight says, rolling her eyes elaborately at him, like it’s the stupidest thing to ask.

Jesse grins. “Okay, well, if everything is carrots and cabbage, how did you have meat?”

“I had it at the Fancy House,” Midnight murmurs, eating her last forkful of cabbage and the scraping the plate with the fork, trying to get all the bits and juices.

“Fancy House,” Jesse says, sitting up a bit. “What’s that?”

Midnight goes still and doesn’t look at him. “I don’t know. I didn’t say that.”

Jesse smiles, shaking his head. “Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t. You imagined it. The wind came in and whispered lies in your ear.”

Jesse frowns for a moment at that strange idea but then moves on from Midnight’s very poor job of lying. He leans forward a bit, ducking his head low, trying to look her in the eye. “You’re not in trouble, Mids,” he says softly, shaking his head. “I’m not…I’m not trying to pin you down or anything. I’m just trying to learn about your life.”

“You are?” she asks, lifting her head, her eyes wide as she stares up into her mate’s face. “Why?”

“Because,” he says, giving a little shrug. “You’re my mate. And you’re interesting and I like you. I…want to learn how to be your friend. Friends talk about each other’s lives.”

Midnight stares at Jesse for a long second. And then her face slowly spreads in the loveliest, happiest smile - so bright and excited that Jesse can’t help but smile back. “Really?” Midnight whispers, eager. “You…you want to get to know me?”