Marcus wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m here if you need me.” He led him to the main hallway. “Now, go and take care of your side of this. Your father is counting on you.”
Caster couldn’t ask even if every ounce of him wanted to. What would his father do about Lucien? He couldn’t imagine the weight of the betrayal, unsure he would be as well-adjusted as his father seemed to be if Ben or Cyrus ever betrayed him like this. There was little time to waste, but they needed a concrete plan. Damien’s house seemed like a good place for the three of them to gather their thoughts. Perhaps they should ask Dean to meet them there.
The mid-morning sun warmed his skin, but Mark couldn’t enjoy it. His mind alternated between the satisfaction of last night’s kill and the thirst for more. He checked on his wolf every second, unwilling to admit to himself the fear he would disappear now that Caster was not here. He’d left without as much as a goodbye, a consequence of Mark’s earlier distrust. Even with everything they’d been through in the short time he’d known the Vampire Prince, Mark still couldn’t get on board with the idea that vampires and wolves could work together.
He was lost in his latest attempt to connect with the other half of him when a shadow fell over him. Any words ofadmonishment at the tip of his tongue fell back into his throat when he looked up. He shot to his feet. “Your Majesty—”
Caster’s mother smiled and waved away his impending apology, reaching for his arm and pulling him onto the bench he had been brooding on seconds earlier. She sat next to him, arranging her red dress around her with nothing short of regality. Her back was ramrod straight, her posture perfect, and her hair sat atop her head like a crown, not a single strand out of place. He didn’t think he was, but he felt disheveled next to her.
“Oh! You look fine.” She chuckled at his frown. “You need to do a better job of guarding your thoughts.”
It wasn’t an admonishment, delivered with a smile, but he’d been on the receiving end of his mother’s disapproval for too long not to see it that way. “Sorry…”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” Her smile reminded him of Caster, and he thanked the Goddess he could hide that thought. Her warm smile lost its luster a second later. “How are you, honey?”
The endearment, one he’d never heard from his mother, brought every insecurity he battled to the fore. “I’m OK.” He restrained the need to tell her everything. “I am sorry about last night. I…”
“I know.” The conviction in her gentle tone made him look at her. To the average human, it would seem absurd that she could be old enough to be Caster’s mother, her features unmarred by her considerable age. “I know what my nephew did to you.” Tears filled her pale blue eyes. “I am so sorry.”
Mark didn’t know what to do with that or the comforting hand on his arm, so he nodded and looked away from thegenuine concern in her expression. The silence between them extended the moment, extended his vulnerability longer than his comfort would allow. But just as he was about to excuse himself and find a new hiding place, she startled him by jumping off the bench with an energy that reminded him of her son.
She pulled on his hand when his reaction time failed to match hers. “Come on! Edie is waiting.”
Certain that he couldn’t refuse her if he wanted to, he allowed her to lead him into the house. It took a moment to connect the dots, he recalled the protection spell, and worry overtook his mind. Dean and Mikey had said there was nothing to it, but Mark had never been comfortable with the idea of witches. His mother’s distrust of them and his fruitless desire to please her had seen to that.
She led him to the kitchen, where Edie and Riley’s mother, whose name he still couldn’t recall, sat at the table, a copper bowl between them.
The queen laughed, and he turned to her.
“This is Riley’s mother, Adella.” Her tone was a gentle reminder to keep his thoughts private. “And you remember Edie?”
Both women shared the red hair that indicated the source of their power. Fire witches, the most powerful of their kind. The power they held back filled the room, but his wolf didn’t seem alarmed, present but remaining well behind the barrier. If his wolf didn’t sense a threat, Mark was certain he could trust both women.
“Yes.” The queen smiled again, and he sighed.
Why was it so easy to let his guard down around her? He took a breath and reined in the mental block that would keep her out of his thoughts.
“Please…” Riley’s mother, Adella, indicated the seat across from her, her tone gentle. She looked nothing like Riley, who must favor his father, and like the queen, her youthful beauty hid a centuries-old witch with enormous power.
He sat and checked on his wolf again. His cautious animal was so relaxed, he seemed asleep, but he was present. Perhaps Caster’s absence would not affect him at all. For a second, he panicked that he’d broadcast that thought, but when he glanced at the queen, her smile was encouraging, no indication she had access to information he shouldn’t share with anyone.
“Have you done this before?” Edie asked, and he turned to her. Of the three women here, she was the smallest, but her petite frame hid the same potent, dangerous power he sensed from Adella. Her smile lit up her beautiful face, her red hair a shade darker than Adella’s. Did that mean she held more power?
Her raised eyebrow reminded him of her question, and he shook his head.
Her green eyes brightened, matching her warm smile. “Oh, you’ll love this.”
He couldn’t help his curiosity. “How so?”
“A protection spell can make you feel invincible, especially when it’s new,” Adella answered. “You might even feel a little… euphoric.”
Edie scoffed. “If Riley was doing it.”
“Because of all his power?” He asked.
Adella nodded, the tension their unfamiliarity with each other had created dissipating by the second.
He leaned into the curiosity. “How powerful is he?” His question was reverent even to his own ears, but their easy smiles dismissed his worry that the witches would not deem him worthy.