"Fornicate," Maddox repeated from behind Guinevere, where he was still kneeling. His brow furrowed. "Kael, that is a word the Elders would use. You sound like Elder Varro at a council meeting."
"I sound like a man with standards, Maddox. Standards that prevent princesses from being defiled in storage closets by enemy wolves during active magical engagements. You're welcome."
Blair stormed out of the closet.
The storm was literal in energy and metaphorical in weather system. Her boots hit the obsidian with the force of a woman who had been talked about in her absence and was here to correct the record with extreme prejudice.
"HE DID NOT TRY TO FORNICATE WITH ME."
The sentence echoed off the vaulted ceiling, the stone columns, the impaled portrait, and the unconscious woman wrapped in chains on the floor, and came back sounding like a declaration of independence.
Kael whipped around. "YOUR TONGUE WAS IN HIS MOUTH."
