Hammer of Time (The Reforged Trilogy) by Erica Lindquist, Aron Christensen Page B
Book: Hammer of Time (The Reforged Trilogy) by Erica Lindquist, Aron Christensen
Read Free Book Online
Authors: Erica Lindquist, Aron Christensen
Ads: Link
was an amazing woman, strong and clever, though she would be the last to say so. There was nothing Maeve Cavainna would not give for her people. Panna and Duke Ferris knew it. Maeve's speech today had been awkward and unrehearsed. Beautiful and striking as she was – the desire to seize and kiss Maeve was never far away – it wasn't words that convinced Ferris. Not words alone, at least.
She was down there, in the Blue Phoenix's cargo bay with her new subjects. It was a sad and shabby sort of court, but Maeve would make the best of it. She was more resilient than even Panna realized. Maeve would build a new kingdom from nothing. Logan would protect her as she did it. He was no longer a bounty hunter, but he still had his Talon-9 and he knew how to fight. Logan Coldhand didn't know much else – the guitar twanged tunelessly in his hands again – but it all belonged to Maeve.
The aft hatch clanked and popped open. Logan looked back to the small airlock. A black-haired head emerged from the Blue Phoenix, then white-feathered wings and a pale, lithe body. Maeve kicked the hatch closed behind her and came to sit beside Logan. "There you are," she said. "We missed you at dinner."
"I wasn't hungry," Logan told her and his jaw clenched. He didn't like to lie to Maeve. "That's not true. I don't want to embarrass you, dove."
"You? Embarrass me?" She stroked one soft wingtip along Logan's spine and smiled coyly. "You stood beside me today as I fell through that terrible speech. You cannot shame me, my enarri."
"A dinner party is a long way from playing the silent bodyguard. You're a queen now, Maeve. I'm a… not even a bounty hunter anymore. And that cost us a lot of colour we couldn't afford this week."
"You are my hunter," Maeve said. Her cheeks were flushed in the starlight. "My enarri. I always want you by my side."
Logan kissed her, cradling his guitar under one arm. Maeve cupped his face in her tiny hands and then ran delicate fingertips down his chest and arms to the guitar.
"I do not care much for dinner parties, either," she admitted with a sly grin. "And am in no hurry to return. Will you sing for me, my love?"
Logan kissed her again and began to play.
Chapter 9:
Where
"Retreat isn't the same thing as running away. They're spelled completely differently."
– Duaal Sinnay (234 PA)
There was a loud thump from the next room, the sound of a body hitting the floor. Jessica Centra ran out of the kitchen and skidded to a stop, hands splayed protectively over her belly. Logan was sprawled on the floor, eyes closed and laying absolutely still. Jess put her hands on her hips and scowled.
"Vorus Reginald Centra, did you shoot your father again?" she asked.
The little boy standing on the threadbare couch hung his head, but his unruly blond hair did not hide the grin. Jess sighed and threw her hands into the air. "Well, go kiss him back to life," she told her son.
Vorus jumped down from the couch and scampered across the living room to kiss his father's cheek. Logan sat up suddenly and wrapped his arms around the boy, who screeched and wriggled in delight. "Dad, no!"
"That's Captain Dad to you, rookie."
"Logan, you know I don't like you playing shooting games with him," Jess said. It was not the first time.
"What? But we were playing Cops and Also Cops. We were training," Logan announced. Vorus giggled and his father finally released him. "Go set the table for dinner. Commissioner Mom wants to talk to me."
Vorus pouted a little and then scampered off to do as he was told. Jess winced and pressed her hands to her back. Logan jumped up and helped his wife to sit. It was a sweet gesture, but she wasn't letting him off the hook that easily.
"Vorus is too young for those kinds of games," she told Logan. "It's just too violent."
"He already knows," Logan said. Logan's left hand went automatically to the worn old badge on his chest. He was still in uniform. "Vorus knows I'm a cop. He's already asked what happened
She was down there, in the Blue Phoenix's cargo bay with her new subjects. It was a sad and shabby sort of court, but Maeve would make the best of it. She was more resilient than even Panna realized. Maeve would build a new kingdom from nothing. Logan would protect her as she did it. He was no longer a bounty hunter, but he still had his Talon-9 and he knew how to fight. Logan Coldhand didn't know much else – the guitar twanged tunelessly in his hands again – but it all belonged to Maeve.
The aft hatch clanked and popped open. Logan looked back to the small airlock. A black-haired head emerged from the Blue Phoenix, then white-feathered wings and a pale, lithe body. Maeve kicked the hatch closed behind her and came to sit beside Logan. "There you are," she said. "We missed you at dinner."
"I wasn't hungry," Logan told her and his jaw clenched. He didn't like to lie to Maeve. "That's not true. I don't want to embarrass you, dove."
"You? Embarrass me?" She stroked one soft wingtip along Logan's spine and smiled coyly. "You stood beside me today as I fell through that terrible speech. You cannot shame me, my enarri."
"A dinner party is a long way from playing the silent bodyguard. You're a queen now, Maeve. I'm a… not even a bounty hunter anymore. And that cost us a lot of colour we couldn't afford this week."
"You are my hunter," Maeve said. Her cheeks were flushed in the starlight. "My enarri. I always want you by my side."
Logan kissed her, cradling his guitar under one arm. Maeve cupped his face in her tiny hands and then ran delicate fingertips down his chest and arms to the guitar.
"I do not care much for dinner parties, either," she admitted with a sly grin. "And am in no hurry to return. Will you sing for me, my love?"
Logan kissed her again and began to play.
Chapter 9:
Where
"Retreat isn't the same thing as running away. They're spelled completely differently."
– Duaal Sinnay (234 PA)
There was a loud thump from the next room, the sound of a body hitting the floor. Jessica Centra ran out of the kitchen and skidded to a stop, hands splayed protectively over her belly. Logan was sprawled on the floor, eyes closed and laying absolutely still. Jess put her hands on her hips and scowled.
"Vorus Reginald Centra, did you shoot your father again?" she asked.
The little boy standing on the threadbare couch hung his head, but his unruly blond hair did not hide the grin. Jess sighed and threw her hands into the air. "Well, go kiss him back to life," she told her son.
Vorus jumped down from the couch and scampered across the living room to kiss his father's cheek. Logan sat up suddenly and wrapped his arms around the boy, who screeched and wriggled in delight. "Dad, no!"
"That's Captain Dad to you, rookie."
"Logan, you know I don't like you playing shooting games with him," Jess said. It was not the first time.
"What? But we were playing Cops and Also Cops. We were training," Logan announced. Vorus giggled and his father finally released him. "Go set the table for dinner. Commissioner Mom wants to talk to me."
Vorus pouted a little and then scampered off to do as he was told. Jess winced and pressed her hands to her back. Logan jumped up and helped his wife to sit. It was a sweet gesture, but she wasn't letting him off the hook that easily.
"Vorus is too young for those kinds of games," she told Logan. "It's just too violent."
"He already knows," Logan said. Logan's left hand went automatically to the worn old badge on his chest. He was still in uniform. "Vorus knows I'm a cop. He's already asked what happened
Similar Books
