Eileen Wilks - Ritual Magic

“Why not? She surprises me regularly.”

“Still,” Scott said, “it does complicate things.”

“It does. It also gives me options. I haven’t decided yet if I want them.”

Lily looked at the two of them. “You realize I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rule’s face was expressionless. “There are only two punishments possible for deliberate disobedience during battle: death or expulsion. I am not cruel enough to expel Santos from the clan.”

Her stomach twisted. She’d expected Santos to be punished. He deserved it. But this was too much. “Santos was wrong. He was really wrong, but he was trying to do the right thing. He wasn’t cowardly or traitorous. He thought he was saving me. He didn’t know about the Uzi in the trunk. I did, but there wasn’t time to . . .” Time to explain. Which was precisely why he’d needed to follow orders. Battle seldom offers the leisure for explanations.

“You are not obliged to consult your guards over the orders you give them.”

With a jolt, Lily realized that Rule was furious. Coldly, quietly furious.

Rule went on, “Some Rhos have made exceptions to the death penalty—”

“Victor sure didn’t,” Scott muttered.

“—usually when the clansman had information his superior lacked, and obeying the order would have caused great harm. Santos may have believed that’s what he was doing, but he had no special knowledge, only his own conclusions. He decided José was wrong, you were wrong, and he could disregard you both. That he would, in fact, be a hero for doing so.”

Since that was exactly what had happened, Lily couldn’t argue.

“He went on to ignore your direct order. He knows better. All of the guards know. They are to treat your word as mine. There are only two exceptions. If your order contradicts mine, they follow mine. And regardless of what you tell them, they are not to leave you unguarded.”

“He might have thought that because Cynna and I were separated from them, we were unguarded.”

“Santos may be a fool, but he isn’t stupid. Engaging the enemy is not the same as leaving you unguarded.” Rule drew a slow breath. “It’s true that I have encouraged our Leidolf guards to think for themselves more than they’re used to doing. This may have confused Santos, so I share some responsibility. I didn’t make sure he understood the difference between initiative and disobedience.”

Her stomach was churning. She’d lost two under her command today. She didn’t want to add Santos to her tally. She was sick of death. “Scott said I complicated things by threatening Santos. He looked downright happy about that.”

“Not about the complication.” Briefly, Rule’s eyes warmed, though the smile didn’t make it to his mouth. “He’s pleased for the same reason I am. You didn’t have time to plan the best way to deal with Santos, yet you did so perfectly.”

“You’re glad I threatened to kill him?”

“That distresses you now.”

She didn’t say anything. He knew damn well it did.

“That makes no sense to my wolf, but I understand that your experience and culture tell you that such a willingness to kill is wrong. It is, however, exactly right for a lupus in that situation. You took Santos by the throat and let him know that his life was yours. Because you had a use for him—a use vital to the Lady, I should add, protecting one of her Rhejes—you spared his life. You treated him precisely as a dominant treats an erring subordinate, or one who has Challenged.”

That was really weird. She’d reacted like a lupus? But she wasn’t one. She was human and . . . and really confused. She shook her head and tried to set the problem aside. “How does that complicate things?”

“If your word is to be treated as mine, then your actions also speak with my authority. In effect, by choosing to use Santos rather than kill him, you rendered a partial judgment.”

Half a dozen questions bubbled up in Lily’s mind. She bit her lip to keep from speaking any of them, afraid that if she did, she’d tilt Rule toward the death penalty.

“But only partial,” Rule said. “His life is mine—to protect when possible, to take if necessary. If José dies . . .” His face turned hard. “If that happens, I doubt I’ll find much mercy in me. If José lives, I will ask for his wishes. Steve’s death and his own injury give him a stake in my decision.”

Would Steve be alive now, if Santos had obeyed? Maybe. All Lily could say for sure was that events would have unfolded differently, but Santos was supposed to be one hell of a fighter when he was wolf. One of the best. That was why José had set him to fight alongside Steve. If Santos had obeyed José, Lily wouldn’t have been in the line of fire when José got his hands on the Uzi. How much would that have changed things?

She didn’t know. Couldn’t. She knew one thing, though. “I have a stake, too. And I don’t want you to kill him.”

Rule looked at her steadily. “So noted.”

“The clan needs fighters.”

“Not if they can’t be trusted. Enough, Lily,” he said when she opened her mouth. “Your opinion matters, but the decision is mine. I haven’t made it yet, and I don’t wish to discuss it further.”

She wanted to keep arguing. She was so damn tired, though. Tired and sick. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. “We’ll talk about it again later.”

The voice that responded wasn’t the one she expected. “Rough day, huh?”

She jolted upright.

“What is it?” Rule demanded.

“Drummond,” she said and sighed. “It’s just Drummond.”

“JUSTDrummond,” the slightly see-through man standing in front of her repeated. “Right. Good to see you, too.”

“Like you said, it’s been a rough day. Unless you’re here to alert us to imminent danger—which, I might add, you didn’t do with the dworg—”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He looked it, too. Regret wasn’t an expression she was used to seeing on Drummond’s saturnine face. “I guess I shouldn’t expect you to turn into a precog just because it would be convenient.” Not that precognition guaranteed anything. Even Ruben had been hunchless today.

“The gates . . . took us all by surprise.”

Us meaning everyone on his side of death? “Not everyone. Hardy had some kind of warning, though by the time it reached me, it was kind of garbled.”

He shrugged. “Saints are different.”

“But he’s getting his information from your side of things, right?”

“Yeah, but I probably can’t hear what he does. See, in order to talk to you, I have to be aware of your world more or less the way you are, and when I’m like this I don’t . . . I can’t . . . hell, just take my word for it, okay? While I’m working with you, I’m not in the right state to hear the, uh, the sort of beings that talk to Hardy. It’s like trying to be ice and water at the same time. Doesn’t work.”

She struggled to follow. “Unless you’re a saint?”

“Saints are different.”

“What’s he saying?” Rule asked.

“That unlike Hardy, he’s not talking with angels.”

Rule’s eyebrow lifted. “This is news?”

Drummond shot Rule the finger without looking away from Lily. “Look, I need to tell you a couple things, and I don’t know how long I can stay manifested. That’s getting hard to do. First thing is, you’ve got to . . .” His mouth moved, but silently. “. . . marigolds and . . . popcorn. No time to lose.”

“Wait, wait. Marigolds? Popcorn? What are you talking about?”