“How are things?” Nikhail slipped his hands into his pockets. “Is the Central Region still as tense as it was?”
Arlo glanced around, and seeing that they were alone, theystepped closer. Their smile fell, and a dark look passed through their eyes.
“Yeah, and they’re getting worse.” Arlo’s voice was low, and there was no hiding the tightness in their shoulders. “Things have been difficult since the botched Reunion, but at least the damned rebels had the sense to go into hiding after. But now…”
“The Black Night is back.”
Arlo nodded grimly. “Everyone is strained, and there’s an underlying tension that’s just gotten worse over the past few months.”
“It’s the same in Lakewater,” Nikhail confirmed. On the outside, he was the picture of ease, but inside, he shuddered. His stomach pulsed where he’d been shot not long ago.
They had to be careful, discussing this here. The last thing the Representatives or the military wanted was for news to break that the Black Night had returned. So far, the Chancellor had kept that particular piece of information from the press, but she wouldn’t be able to do that forever.
Arlo rolled their shoulders. To anyone else, they would appear relaxed, but Nikhail didn’t miss the ticking in their jaw or the slight clench of their fists.
“It’s fucking bad,” Arlo said. “Rebel cells are popping up all across the Republic.”
Nikhail rolled his lips through his teeth. “Are the Central Region fae worried?”
Arlo’s mouth pinched in a line, stepping closer and lowering their voice. “They’ve doubled the protection on all the Representatives since they’ve been receiving more threats than usual. Typically, Representative Waterborn gets a couple a week, but the new ones feel different. More serious.”
“Is she the only onegetting them?” he asked.
“No. Several others are receiving them, as well.”
Nikhail frowned, the new information confirming what he and his team already suspected. “Things are happening behind the scenes.”
The rebels were planningsomething, but for the life of them, they couldn’t figure out what it was. They were out of the loop, and it was gods-damned awful. Nikhail wasn’t used to being on the outside, and it made him anxious. The rebels had to be stopped; that much was clear.
They weren’t trying to peacefully bring about change, one law at a time. No, they were violent and not afraid of death. They’d made that clear when they killed the Chancellor’s own son-in-law.
Rumors swirled about Valentina Rose, the Chancellor’s daughter. She hadn’t been seen in public since the night of the Reunion. Some said that Valentina was riddled with grief and horror from the way her mother had dealt with the rebels. Others postulated that she’d fled the Republic entirely, unable to remain here after her husband’s murder. Some had even questioned whether Valentina had joined the rebels, but since they’d killed her husband, Nikhail could never see that happening.
More often than not, people spoke about Valentina with pity. To have lost her Chosen husband so soon after their wedding was ill luck.
Nikhail had even heard a few people whisper that it was a sign that the Roses had lost the blessings of the gods. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that—he didn’t think the gods monitored their lives all that closely—but he couldn’t deny that it was terribly sad.
“You’ll let me know if you hear anything specificregarding Representative Waterborn’s children, right?” Nikhail asked Arlo.
He wasn’t overly concerned for Ryker. Both he and Brynleigh were more than capable of looking after themselves. But if something happened to River…
The blood in Nikhail’s veins chilled, and his air magic fought to be free. A fist squeezed his lungs. His next breath felt like he was inhaling shards of glass.
No.
Nothing could ever happen to River. Nikhail would never allow it. Even if she rejected him, even if she told him she never wanted to see him again, he would never stop trying to keep her safe. Not now, not ever.
She was more precious than gold or silver, more important to him than any amount of riches. Even if she wasn’t his, he’d always do whatever it took to protect her.
A burly werewolf with glowing orange eyes approached them. “Arlo, a word, please?”
“Of course.” The water fae turned back to Nikhail, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll reach out if there’s any new information.”
“You have my thanks.”
Nikhail stepped away, intent on finding food, when the air shifted. The ballroom doors opened behind him, carrying the faintest hint of fresh rain to him from across the ballroom.
His hunger evaporated as if it had never even existed. What were things like hunger and thirst in the face of the need burning deep within him?