Part 2 (2/2)
He smiled at Miranda, who had in the s.p.a.ce of thirty minutes managed to sprawl out so she was taking up the entire bed. One of the pillows seemed to have vanished completely and the comforter was tangled around her legs. But even with her limbs akimbo and in a rather inelegant position, with the firelight casting a golden glow over her skin and catching the jeweled highlights in her hair, she was a breathtaking creature to behold.
A moment later she made a noise that might have been a word, then blinked and opened her eyes, their green a bit dull with sleep. She didn't ask why he was up; it was hardly the first time. She simply extended a hand to draw him back into bed.
He was quite happy to comply. He took the opportunity to unwind the covers and shuck his robe, then slid in next to her with a sigh.
She resumed her former position with her head on his chest, lifting a hand to touch first his Signet, then his lips. ”Love you,” she murmured, eyes already closed.
He kissed her almond-scented curls. ”Love you, too.”
This time he fell asleep.
The nine candidates for the Queen's personal guard stood at attention, each impeccably uniformed and waiting expectantly for judgment. They ranged in appearance from a huge tattooed bald guy with enormous holes in his earlobes to a pet.i.te blond pixie who according to Faith was actually older than David.
Miranda walked along the line slowly, looking each one up and down; only one looked visibly cowed by her gaze, and she crossed him off the list in her head immediately. She didn't need someone following her around who was terrified of her.
She had met a few of them before. One was a new recruit since the war and had moved up the ranks quickly. Two had experience as the Prime's guards, and two others had stood guard at their suite door. All had been vetted by Faith for their ability as warriors, their stealth, and their dedication. David had done extensive background checks when they were new to the Elite, of course, but he'd rerun them all. All that remained was for Miranda to choose four; they would work in pairs.
”What do you think?” Faith asked.
Miranda went to stand beside her, crossing her arms. ”I don't know. I mean, we're not going to hang out or anything-they're going to follow me around and make sure I don't get staked. You vouch for their fighting skills, so what else is there?”
Faith shrugged. ”You have to pick them, my Lady. I've done my part.”
”All right . . . let's see.” She took Faith's clipboard and pen and crossed off the timid man. ”Four is scared of me. Six is so tall and gangly he'd stand out in a crowd. Three looks bored. Two more? Hmm . . .”
She walked back over to the line and did another slow circuit of the guards, this time extending her empathic energy toward them, not intruding but just testing the waters for anomalies.
Two was too ambitious. He was more interested in impressing his superiors and moving up through the ranks than protecting her. That didn't bode well; if the situation was dire he might make some stupid hero move to show off. She crossed him off.
She stepped back and addressed the guards. ”Raise your hand if you like Nickelback.”
The guards exchanged glances, and reluctantly the blond pixie raised her hand.
Miranda crossed her off the list.
”Numbers two, four, six, three, and nine, you may go. One, five, seven, and eight, please remain for your briefing. Thank you all.”
The four who remained were consummate professionals and kept their happiness to a brightening of the eyes and a relieved sigh. The others departed with varying degrees of grumbling or head shaking. That was all right; if they really were worthy of the post, they'd have another chance. There was always a need for the true Elite and the truly loyal.
Miranda handed Faith back her clipboard and addressed the guards. ”Welcome to my service,” she said. ”As you know, I am in need of bodyguards to accompany me into the city for regular performances, meetings, and other appointments. If we're all very lucky, your job will be extremely boring. I'd like you each to introduce yourselves briefly-Elite designation, name, and favorite musical genre or artist.”
As each one spoke she shook his or her hand, taking a moment to do an extra psychic sweep of each.
”Elite Seventy-two, Aaron Sawyer, jazz.”
”Elite Twenty-six, Jake Verona, Johnny Cash.”
”Elite Forty-four, Minh-Li Tsai, trip-hop.”
”Elite Sixteen, Lalita Madhavi, anything with a violin.”
Satisfied, Miranda nodded to them. ”Again, welcome. I'll leave you to Faith for the rest of your briefing. I look forward to working with all of you.”
With that she looked over at Faith, who bowed; the four guards echoed her motion, and Miranda nodded again, then walked away with a sigh.
Bodyguards. She still didn't like the idea . . . but there really wasn't much choice, at least not right now while she was so new to the Signet. David couldn't be with her every minute of every day, and though her combat skills were already excellent-and improving continuously as she kept training-she still wasn't as quick on the draw as the Elite could be. The extra eyes looking for threats would be invaluable the more she got out in public; most humans would have no idea what she was, but any vampire who wanted her dead would have a great many opportunities to come at her while she was onstage or in a crowd.
She left the Elite training building and headed toward the left; in her mind she could sense a low-burning spot of energy that she recognized as David, over near the pasture where the horses were kept. She could find him anywhere with a thought, and call him to her side almost instantly, but still, even someone as strong as David couldn't be everywhere at once. If she wanted her own life beyond the Haven and beyond their marriage, she had to get used to the idea of bodyguards.
She didn't have to like it.
”I know this is hard for you to accept,” Faith had noted mildly before bringing out the candidates, ”but there are some things your Prime and I know that you don't. Diplomacy, for example . . . and security for another. You have to trust us, Miranda. Not everything is going to be instinctual for you.”
Sighing again, Miranda left the path and angled toward the long white fence beyond which stood a single structure, the stable.
Inside the building smelled of hay and alfalfa and horse, though it was as scrupulously clean as everything else at the Haven. All but two of the stalls were usually empty; David's two prized four-legged friends were housed at opposite ends of the stable. Miranda pa.s.sed by Isis, the female, but didn't go any closer.
Isis pointedly ignored her.
The Haven had staff to work in the stable, seeing to the night-to-night care of the horses and keeping the place clean, but David preferred to manage them himself as much as possible and always took care of them after a ride. The two horses deferred to him readily but mostly seemed to think Miranda was beneath their notice or, at least, viewed her the way she imagined a lion would view a hamster: harmless, possibly delicious.
The Prime entered the stable leading Osiris; the Prime was sweaty and dusty and so was the horse, though Osiris clopped along with his head high and proud, his tack jingling. They had no doubt taken the long course around the Haven's extensive grounds, which had its own system of programmable lights.
Miranda didn't like horses. They were big and dangerous and strange. But she had to admit that David looked astonis.h.i.+ngly hot next to one, and even more so on the stallion's back. She'd watched him ride a few times from the safety of the fence and then dragged her Prime into an empty stall to put him through his paces.
David knew she was there, but he smiled when he saw her. ”Fair warning,” he said. ”I stink.”
”I know. I can smell you both from here.”
The smile became a grin. ”Didn't bother you last time.”
She grinned back. ”It's not my fault-it's all the leather and sweat. The boots alone are worth a good s.h.a.g.”
He brought the ma.s.sive beast to a halt and set to removing his tack, a lengthy ritual she'd sat through before; there was a lot involved in the care and feeding of a horse, and Osiris stood placidly and let himself be pampered. The grooming process involved several kinds of combs and brushes, a rag, a hoof examination, feeling along the legs-as far as pets went, cats were so much easier.
”You don't have to stand quite so far away,” David told her. ”He's about as fierce as a puppy.”
Miranda stayed where she was. ”A thousand-pound puppy that could kick my brains in.”
”Osiris,” the Prime said to the horse, ”are you going to kick the Queen's brains in?”
To Miranda's surprise, the horse snorted and shook his head, his feathery mane flying to either side. He looked for all the world like he understood every word.
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