The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(136)
Author: J.R. Ward

“What?”

“Have we displeased our lord in some way to bring you herein?”

“God, no. I was just curious. That’s all. I don’t know anything about construction.”

The foreman glanced at each of his males. “Well, that’s because it’s beneath you, my lord.”

Wrath laughed in a harsh burst. “The hell it is. It’s honest work. There’s no shame in that. So what are your names?”

The foreman’s eyes bugged like that was the last thing he’d expected. But then he rose from the floor and jacked up his tool belt. “I’m Elph. This is…” He whipped through the introductions quickly.

“You all have families?” Wrath asked.

“I got a daughter and a mate,” Elph said. “Although my first shellan died in childbirth.”

Wrath put his hand over his heart as if struck by something. “Oh, f**k. I’m so sorry.”

The foreman blinked at the King. “I … thank you, my lord.”

“How long ago was it that you lost her?”

“Twelve years.” The male cleared his throat. “Twelve years, three months, seventeen days.”

“How’s your daughter?”

The foreman shrugged. Then shook his head. “She’s okay—”

The one in the back, who’d said the holy shit, spoke up. “She’s paralyzed. And she’s an angel.”

The glare he got from his superior was immediate—like the guy didn’t want Wrath bothered. “She’s fine,” he cut in.

“Paralyzed?” Wrath seemed to pale. “From the birthing?”

“Ah … yeah. She was injured. She was delivered without assistance. Other than me who was of sorry aid.”

“Where the f**k was Havers?”

“We couldn’t get to the clinic.”

Wrath’s nose flared. “You’re lying to me.”

The foreman’s brows lifted in shock. “It was no one’s fault, my lord. Except for mine.”

“I thought you were in construction. Or did you go to medical school?”

“I did not.”

“So how was it your fault?” Wrath shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m glad your daughter survived.”

“It is my biggest blessing, my lord.”

“No doubt. And I know you have to miss your mate like hell.”

“Every night. All day. Although my second shellan keeps me going.”

Wrath nodded like he knew exactly where the male was at. “I get that. I so totally get that. Something similiar happened to my brother, Tohr.”

There was a long pause. Then the foreman said slowly, “I don’t know what else to say, my lord. Other than you have honored us greatly with your presence.”

“You don’t have to say anything. And I should leave you guys alone. I’m taking up your time.” Wrath lifted his dagger hand in a casual wave. “Later.”

As the plastic sheeting fell back into place behind the King, the workmen were speechless.

“Is he always like that?” the foreman asked numbly.

Rhage nodded. “He truly is a male of worth.”

“I didn’t think he would be … like that.”

“Like what?”

“So approachable.”

“Based on what?”

“The rumors. They say he’s aloof. Untouchable. Uninterested in people like us.” The foreman shook himself like he couldn’t believe he’d said that aloud. “What I mean is—”

“Nah, you’re good. I can imagine where that comes from.”

“He looks like his father,” the older one in the back said. “Spitting image.”

“You knew him? Wrath’s dad, that is?” Rhage asked.

The older male nodded. “And I saw the two of them together once. Wrath the younger was five. He always stood beside his father when the King had audiences with the commoners. I had a property dispute with my landlord who was in the glymera. The King took care of me over that aristocrat, I tell you.” An air of sadness overcame the male’s entire aura. “I remember when the King and queen were killed. We were certain the heir had been slaughtered as well—by the time we learned otherwise … this Wrath was gone.”

“I heard he was shot recently,” the foreman said to Rhage. “Is that true?”

“We don’t talk about it.”

The foreman bowed. “Of course. I apologize.”

“Like I said, you’re good, don’t worry. Come on, JM, let’s leave these guys to work.” As John nodded, Rhage tacked on, “Just let us know if you need anything.”

John went to follow the Brother, but then paused in the split between the sheets. The workmen were still staring at where Wrath had stood and talked with them, as if they were replaying everything. As if they’d been witnesses to a historic event.

Stepping out, he wondered if Wrath was aware of the effect he’d had on them.

Probably not.

FIFTY-SEVEN

As Anha sat at her dressing table, she had naught but a lingering tiredness leftover from her episode: With every night that passed, she was feeling more herself, her body rebounding, her mind resharpening.

But everything had changed.

In the first, the Brotherhood had moved into the chamber next door. All twelve of them. And they rotated their service such that the door to her and Wrath’s private space was never unguarded.

And then there was the food. Wrath refused to let her eat anything that he or the Brothers had not personally sampled first—following a wait period of quite some while.

And then there was the worry upon her hellren’s face, every time she caught him unawares.

Speaking of worry, wherever was he?

“Your King shall return very soon.”

She gasped and looked over her shoulder. Tohrture was sitting in the corner, “reading” from a book of sonnets. In truth, she did not think he traced the symbols a’tall. Instead, his eyes were on the blockaded windows, the door, her, the windows, the door, her. On occasion, he broke the rhythm by speaking with one of his Brothers or tasting food that was prepared at her hearth.

“Where has he gone?” she asked once again.

“He shall return soon.” The smile was meant to be reassuring. The shadow in his stare was most certainly not.

Anha narrowed her eyes. “He has not explained any of this.”

“All is well.”

“I do not believe you.”