Renegade

by Nancy Northcott

  Griff’s throat felt suspiciously tight. He cleared it. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

  “I’ve warded a room so you can meet with your legal team in privacy. Best not to talk until then.”

  Legal team? How had he acquired a legal team? Hettie was a lawyer, but she didn’t know his dad or know about the Collegium. Or hadn’t, anyway. This must be Valeria’s doing, the plan Stefan mentioned.

  Thank you, love, he thought, trying not to send her the thought. Why bother, with wards between them? At least she’d stayed away. It was far safer here for his dad than for her.

  They rounded a corner into a short hallway, and Hettie—looking very lawyerly in a navy-blue pantsuit and carrying a tan leather briefcase—rose from her seat by a doorway at the corridor’s end. When she stood, he could see the slender, dark-haired woman sitting by her. Smiling a welcome even though she couldn’t see him, his sister, Caro, also stood.

  Griff’s heart took a weird leap that managed to be happy and painful at the same time. He grinned at Caro and Hettie.

  His father caught his arm. “Easy, son. Almost there.”

  Only then did Griff realize he’d been about to break into a run that would’ve sent him straight to the ground because of the shackles.

  “I believe you know Ms. Telfair,” his dad continued. “Caroline is our legal assistant.”

  Valeria had given him one hell of a gift. He hadn’t thought he’d see his family again, but here were Dad and Caro.

  The group surrounding him reached the doorway. Hettie eyed the nearest reeve, a short, muscular young woman, with disfavor. “You’re blocking me from my client, Officer. Move it.”

  “Take those shackles off,” his father ordered. “I need his hands free so he can write.”

  And hug his sister, Griff thought. And Hettie. And, if his dad would permit it, his chief counsel.

  “Leg ones stay on.” A tall reeve behind him freed his hands.

  “If they must,” Stuart said.

  The circle of reeves opened a path to the doorway, and Hettie eased Caro in front of her.

  “Hey, sis.” Griff relished the words.

  With a gasp, she flung herself at him. He caught her, lifting to bring her head to his shoulder, and held her as her arms locked around his neck.

  “Hey, Goofball,” she said into his collar.

  As he laughed, she ran her hands over his face, “seeing” him. “You need a shave.” She kissed his cheek, hard, anyway.

  He planted an equally emphatic kiss on her forehead. “You cut your hair. I like it.”

  She smelled of roses. She’d always smelled of roses. The memory threatened to fracture his control. He held her tightly before he set her down, keeping an arm around her.

  Hettie kissed his other cheek. “Let’s go in, boy, and get started while your daddy tends to some procedural issues.”

  “What procedural issues?”

  Stuart raised a jet eyebrow. “The sort you used to call ‘lawyer crap.’ I’ve got this, Griffin. You go do your part.”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied, but he couldn’t help grinning. Nobody was better than his dad. Maybe, just maybe, he had a chance to live through this.

  Waiting in the conference room, praying Griffin’s father succeeded in stopping the Council’s torture, Val tried to steady her breathing. Griffin would be furious that she had come.

  Tough.

  She drew a painful breath. They were mind-bonded lovers. That made them mates under mage law if they both acknowledged the bond, according to what his dad had told her earlier. If Griffin expected her to bail when he was in trouble, he really didn’t understand her at all. She couldn’t live with hanging back when his life was in danger.

  The door swung open. He stepped inside, and love flooded her. His shock at seeing her reverberated in the bond as she forgot everything but how glad she was to see him alive and sane. She sprang into his arms.

  I love you, she told him as their mouths fused and their bodies strained together. Now that they were both inside the Collegium wards, nothing blocked their bond.

  I love you, too. He lifted his head abruptly, stepping back even though he kept his grip on her arms.

  Their bond vibrated with shared desire, with his longing to lay her down on the table and seal the words they’d said. But he frowned at her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  So they were down to it already. But she couldn’t hold back her grin at seeing him. Touching him. She finger-combed his damp hair from his face. “Miss Hettie, didn’t I tell you he would say that?”

  “I believe you did.” Hettie gave him one of her decisive nods. “Val came to me first, knowing I’d want to help you, no matter what your father decided. When she told me the truth about you, it really wasn’t much of a shock. More like ‘Oh, of course.’”

  Smiling, she added, “Val orchestrated this whole thing, including the media nuisance.”

  “I stayed behind when your dad went to get you,” Val said, “because I knew you would kick up dust about my being here. I didn’t want us dealing with that out there.”

  “Kick up dust”? Try a fucking mountain. His eyes narrowed. He shot her a steely look she met with a level, unyielding one.

  If you thought I’d desert you, she told him, you’re nuts.

  “I like her, Griff,” Caro volunteered before he could reply. “So do Dad and Rick. Mom’s in L.A. for a gallery show of her sculptures, but she ditched that and is grabbing the first plane back. She sends you her love.”

  “This isn’t a family reunion. This is serious.”

  “We all get how serious this is,” Val said. “That doesn’t make us any less happy to see you, especially since you’re still alive.”

  “You think I’m not glad?” Despite his scowl he pulled her against him, running his hands down her arms in a caress. “I would’ve given anything to hold you just once more, but I didn’t flash you out of that circle so you could walk into a damned cage.”

  “I’m not walking into one. Any guilt I have is dependent on yours, on my ‘aiding and abetting’ you, as your dad expressed it. If you aren’t guilty, my love, I’m not either. And we both know you’re not.”

  He shook his head but apparently realized there was no going back. She had something important to ask him, anyway. “Speaking of your getting me away, you could’ve gone, too. Why didn’t you?” They had more immediate problems, but she needed to know.

  “My power was down from shielding against the orb, and I knew I’d need a lot to shift you because we weren’t touching. I didn’t know how big a perimeter the mages had established. I didn’t want to risk not sending you far enough.”

  “I knew it.” It hurt her to know he placed so little value on his life.

  Honey? He ran a hand lightly down her arm.

  She stepped back, shaking her head. Softly, she repeated, “I knew it.” The mages wouldn’t have thought to erect a perimeter wider than a mile. You sent me four. Half that would’ve kept us both free. You could’ve escaped, but you were so determined to protect me that you sacrificed yourself when you didn’t have to.

  He seemed startled. Giving off a defensive vibe, he pulled back from the bond. His face hardened. I’d do it again.

  I know. But I don’t know how you expect me to live with that.

  “I had to make a quick choice. Let’s not fight about it.”

  “I realize there’s no point,” she said, her voice flat.

  He frowned at her, worry shadowing his eyes. She had to shake off this mood, focus on more immediate concerns. He needed her support. Anything else between them could wait.

  If he was acquitted, when he was, he might relax enough to let go a little, to stop being so unnecessarily protective.

  “Valeria, we—”

  “Anyway,” she added in a brisk tone, “I’m safe enough, Griffin. I walked in here openly.”

  “After helping Marc push some media into the Collegium’s face.” Hettie gave him a fierce grin.


  “I think Marc liked doing it,” Val said. “Right about now, your dad’s giving the Council a tiny taste of the hell they deserve. It’ll be fine.”

  He drew her close again. “You walked in openly, but you aren’t walking out, are you?”

  “Not unless you do.”

  “Damn it, Valeria.”

  She kissed him quickly, then longer. “Everything will be fine. I know it will.”

  Her hands slid down his back. On a sigh, he pressed his mouth to hers, stroked her from neck to hips, then back again.

  She deepened the kiss, and he seemingly forgot his concerns. Hettie cleared her throat. Val and Griffin turned to see that she’d set out a legal pad and was sitting behind it, pen in hand. Beside her, Caro sat, aiming a contented half-smile in his direction.

  “You have to understand,” Caro said, “none of us expected to see you again. Val and Hettie came to me early this morning, then Rick and I took them straight to Dad. Oh, and Rick said he’s in your corner, but he’s staying out of the way for now. Anyhow, Dad didn’t take much convincing. You know he’s the best, Goofball. It really will be fine.”

  “I assumed he believed I was guilty.”

  “Because you never gave him a reason to think otherwise,” Griffin’s sister said. “All he needed was a reason.”

  Val cocked her head. “Why does she call you Goofball?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said. As Caro opened her mouth, he added, “One we’re not telling here.”

  Their father stepped into the room, looking satisfied. “Not quite what I was hoping for, which was Valeria released on her own recognizance, but pretty good. She’s in guest quarters with us. Griff, your trial starts first thing tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.” Stunned, Griffin turned to Val. “I didn’t expect to have tomorrow.”

  “‘Only a day away,’” she quoted around the lump in her throat, “but a very precious day.”

  “Damned straight.” He squeezed her shoulder, and she slid an arm around his waist.

  “You were entitled to a damned trial.” His father’s eyes looked like granite chips. “They had no right to condemn you in your absence. I tried to stop it then, but Alden’s death allowed them to ram the conviction through.”

  “You tried to stop it?”

  “Of course I did.” The words sounded clipped, impatient. “You’re my son. I knew you must have had a solid reason for what you’d done. But a lawyer can’t just volunteer to represent someone. The accused has to accept representation, even when a family member tries to hire the lawyer, as your bond-mate did today.”

  “What? You revealed the bond?” Griffin’s head jerked toward Val. “The risk—”

  “Don’t start,” she said, with steel in her voice.

  The hell I won’t. Valeria, you—

  Stuart Dare cleared his throat. “Our defense, besides your own account, Griff, will be to sandbag the tribunal with your good character. The people in Wayfarer have been told you’re applying for membership on the institute’s board. Some of them are coming to testify for you.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Griffin asked, “What do Mundane witnesses have to do with Alden being a traitor? Or whether or not someone else is?”

  “Mundanes can’t prove anything about Alden. However, the Caudex allows a great deal more leeway for character witnesses than the Georgia Rules of Evidence. Under our rules, character speaks to judgment, to the accuracy of your perceptions. It’s particularly useful when actual evidence is thin on the ground.”

  Hettie beamed at Griffin. “Marc has the Wayfarer angle covered. Peace and love and sunshine don’t run the world, but those of us who believe in them learn to tell the hard cases from the good. You’re the good, and all of Wayfarer knows it.”

  “By tomorrow evening,” Valeria said, “everyone will.”

  If only, he thought to her.

  Believe, Griffin. Val squeezed his waist. Have hope. I do. But there was something else in his mind, something he hid from her. Griffin?

  Later, love. I’ll tell you later. The thought had an ominous undercurrent.

  “You’ll have to go back to your cell,” his father said, “but for now, sit down, son. We have six years to cover and not all that much time.”

  Griffin waited for Val to take her seat, then took the chair beside her.

  She laid her hand over his on his knee. He had a fighting chance now, and they would make the most of it.

  Chapter 22

  Fear jabbed at Val’s heart, kept her pacing the conference room. Morning had come, the day of Griffin’s trial. That was enough to worry about, but her concern over whatever he’d refused to tell her yesterday had grown through the sleepless night.

  He’d said he would tell her, but there hadn’t been time. Whatever it was, he’d blocked it from her while they were together. The wards around his cell had interfered with the bond after that.

  His father sat at the table, sipping coffee and scanning the notes on a yellow legal pad. Did he know what Griffin wanted to talk about?

  Griffin hadn’t answered when she’d asked him how he thought she could live knowing he would sacrifice himself for her even when he didn’t have to. She took a deep breath and pressed her hands to her eyes. Could he really not know she’d rather die than have him sacrifice himself for her?

  Stuart cleared his throat. “We have an excellent shot, Val, better than I have with most of my Mundane clients.” He looked composed, as though Griffin were any other client. Only the tension around his eyes, if she looked closely, betrayed his concern.

  “Because of the chair and its truth auras,” she said.

  “That and the Mundanes who’ll speak for Griffin today. No ghoul ally would ever have done the things he has for them.”

  “He thought Alden could beat the chair, deceive the auras. He saw it in a precog flash.”

  “He saw Alden free and himself dead in that flash. Maybe there’s a way to beat the chair, but there was a bigger problem legally. Griffin had no firsthand knowledge of Alden’s treason. No one did. It’s a requirement for accusation. He saw the result correctly but didn’t see the reason.”

  Griffin’s mother, Lara Dare, slipped into the conference room. The tall brunette with eyes the blue of Griffin’s and streaks of gray in her hair had arrived late the night before.

  She smiled at Val, who nodded a greeting. Griffin’s family accepted her with surprising ease. Maybe they realized she would do anything to help him.

  “I left Caro and Hettie with the people from Wayfarer,” Lara said. “They’re quite a large group. Surely that will help.”

  Stuart Dare shrugged. “There are never any guarantees.”

  “Stuart, pessimism—”

  “Calling it straight, hon.” He stood to draw her close. When he pressed his lips to her hairline, the gesture seemed so tender and intimate that Val looked away.

  He continued, “Prejudice doesn’t respond to evidence, and there’s six years of it stacked against Griffin.”

  Before his wife could respond, the door opened. Griffin stepped in, and Val’s heart clutched. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t.

  He wore no shackles today, as his dad had arranged. In the charcoal suit, white shirt, and red tie she and Hettie had found for him, he looked as dependable as a doctor. He smiled at her, but his mind stayed closed to the bond. Something was definitely wrong.

  “Griffin.” His mother stepped out from behind his father.

  “Mom.” Joy shot across his face as his mother darted into his arms. “I thought you’d been delayed.”

  “What good’s money if you can’t charter a plane?” Blinking back tears, she took his face in her hands and kissed him hard. “My sweet Griff. Finally.” Her blue eyes narrowed. “You nail this thing, son. We want you home.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Smiling, she brushed a finger along his hairline. “You need a haircut.”

  “Nag, nag.” He grinned at her. “Same old, same old. Caro th
ought I needed a shave, so I got one, and now you think I need a haircut. Want to complain about the suit they dug up for me?”

  “What’s not to like? You look like the successful artist you deserve to be.” Her lips trembled, and she gave him a quick hug before turning away.

  Her husband slid an arm around her. “With a little luck, honey, he can enjoy his success openly from here on out.” He glanced at their son. “Wish I had a guarantee for you.”

  “I know, Dad. I trust you. Before we go in, though, I have to talk to Valeria. Alone.” His eyes locked with hers.

  She reached for him in the bond, but he didn’t reach back. Dread bubbled in her gut.

  “Only conversing with your legal team,” his father said, “justifies your being out of the guards’ sight.”

  “You can buy us a few minutes.”

  “If it’s that important.” Stuart shrugged. “But make it quick. Come on, everyone.” He led them out of the room, leaving Val and Griffin alone.

  “What’s wrong?” She brushed her fingertips along his cheek. “Just tell me, Griffin.”

  “I know who the traitor is.” Face tight with concern, he took her hands. “I’m so sorry, love, but it’s Blake.”

  She stared at him, baffled, for a long moment before the words clicked. She took one step back. “What makes you say that?”

  “I felt it when they were questioning me. Just a flash, but—”

  “Flash of what?” She paced to the window, her body painfully tense, arms folded across her stomach. She didn’t want to believe Griffin was right.

  But Gene had spied on her. He’d voted against her and threatened her. For the good of the Collegium, he’d said. She’d wanted to believe that, but she’d felt uneasy about his motives all along.

  Griffin stood close behind her but didn’t touch her. “When they were trying to probe my mind, I told them I wasn’t a traitor but someone on the Council was. Larkin felt shocked but uncertain. Blake, though, felt afraid. Guilty. I caught a flash from his mind of him with ghouls.”

  “You saw that in his mind?” Oh God, no.