Free Old Dog, New Tricks by Hailey Edwards Page B

One good push and we’re all wallowing in the mud with hands just as dirty as the Morrigan’s.” I pegged Mac with a stare. “I’m ready to fight, but I want orders. I want to know what we’re about to do is viewed by our ruling body as the right thing.”
    Hard to explain where the hesitance came from when it hadn’t been there earlier. Maybe it was a way to check myself, to know this course of action was honorable in the eyes of people I trusted and not a sliver of the Morrigan’s influence still corrupting me. And, if I were being honest with myself, I wanted permission to savor my revenge, an iron-clad absolution of guilt for my actions after I found Shaw, because once he was safe, I would show the Morrigan how much of a daddy’s girl I really was.
    The internal scales I inherited from Mac were swaying like a seesaw inside my head. Knowing I had fallen under the Morrigan’s spell, I lost touch with the part of me always certain my actions were just. Until I shook off the bitterness, if I ever got that far, I would rely on others’ internal compasses.
    As though he expected things to swing this way, Mac picked up a scroll from the table behind him. It unfurled, the weight of quality parchment and the thick, familiar wax seal drawing it downward. His arm extended, and from his shoulder height, where he held the top lip, it stretched down to his navel.
    I didn’t have to see the fine print to recognize the signatures scrawled along the bottom edge.
    “The vote wasn’t formalized before the Morrigan attacked,” he said. “We held a special session in a conference room at the airport to gather signatures before the magistrates were sent into hiding.”
    A burden fell from my shoulders. “Okay.” I glanced between them. “Let’s do this.”
    Mai worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “First you’ll need to change.”
    Bending low, Mai retrieved a long box from under the table where I woke and pressed it into my arms. It had already been opened. When I lifted the lid, I recognized the outfit. Black leather armor like Mac wore. My fingers traced deep furrows in one wristlet. Teeth marks. This was the exact suit Rook had given me. The one he had tricked me into wearing as part of his elaborate scheme to claim me as his wife. I hadn’t wanted to wear his gift then, and I sure didn’t want to now, but it seemed I had no choice.
    Again.
    “I hope you had it dry-cleaned,” I muttered.
    I hauled out the topmost piece, the wristlet, and froze. Rubbing a thumb across the oval-shaped enamel emblem, I studied it. Instead of the inverted House Unseelie coat of arms I expected, this was an emerald shield inlayed with a black stylized hound clamping a single rose between its sharp teeth.
    I held up the emblem. “What’s this?”
    “Shaw commissioned the design.” Mai looked everywhere but at me. “He was having the armor restored for next year, just in case, but there was no time to finish the job. He asked me to hide it for him until tonight.” She gulped air then pushed out the rest. “The design is called Queen of Thorns .”
    The breath I took rattled in my chest, a sob stuck between my gut and throat.
    I locked the pain down before a single whimper escaped.
    “It’s beautiful.” The words were torn from my soul.
    Mac took a step forward, like he was afraid I would shatter and wanted to catch the pieces.
    “I should change.” There. That sounded normal. “Where should I...?”
    Mac gestured behind me, and it hit me then his armor carried no crest. I shouldn’t have expected to see one. He couldn’t be loyal to himself and to me. No one’s interests dovetailed every time, even if he and I were of a like mind on this occasion. Shaw’s crest was the final nail in my coffin, a visual representation of how far I had fallen. Mac was a true neutral, and I...was not.

Chapter Seven
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    I ended up changing clothes in a nearby supply closet. Quarters were tight, but I made it