Chapter 306: My Runes Are Contagious, Officer

"They were good customers up until the robbery," the bartender offered.

Veyron closed his eyes for a full second and let out a breath.

"As I was saying, under the authority of King Landon Solv—"

Guinevere raised her hand to ask a question. Nicholas’s hand immediately covered her mouth before any words came out.

"SHE HAD HER HAND UP." The purse woman pointed at Nicholas. "YOU. The gentleman. I defended you. Let. Her. Speak."

"LET HER SPEAK." One voice. Then five. Then the entire bar. Nicholas was now being booed alongside the Kingsguard. He had been demoted from gentleman to oppressor in under three seconds.

He let out a breath and moved his hand.

"Thank you, good citizens and light bearers," Guinevere began. "Your commitment to justice is deeply moving and I will remember this bar fondly during my incarceration. The gentleman holding me is acting in my best interest. His actions are precautionary not oppressive."

Nicholas was watching a woman deliver a graduation address at a crime scene. She opened with a thank-you speech. At her own arrest. What the hell was this shit?

"I wanted to flag, Commander, that I have runes on my skin that are contagious through physical contact," she continued. "Your officers should wear gloves during any processing of me. I don’t want to infect your justice system."

Nicholas died again in that moment. Twice in one night. First time was dark magic. He closed his eyes for a full second while the bar stared at her.

But when he opened his eyes, to his surprise, the bar citizens were looking at her like a cute puppy just did a trick. The contagious runes bit she mentioned seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Either they didn’t understand that part or it was normal for them, Nicholas wasn’t sure.

The optics were about as bad as possible for the Kingsguard, and the propaganda was writing itself at this point.

"Incarceration?" a patron repeated. "You’re putting THAT in a cell? THAT? She just wished us well. She just called him a gentleman. THAT’S your criminal?"

The bartender set his bottle down for the first time all night. That’s how serious this was. "THE KING SENT TWENTY MEN FOR A GIRL? A GIRL? That’s what our tax money is going towards. What’s she going to do? Smile at him?"

The question was rhetorical but accurate. The woman in question was currently being held like a bride, and had already apologized about flowers, and looked about as dangerous as a wet kitten.

"If anyone interferes with this arrest—"

"WE’RE ALREADY INTERFERING. ARREST ALL OF US. SEE WHAT HAPPENS."

The invitation to mass arrest was delivered with the confidence of a mob that had decided the cops were wrong.

Paul raised his hand. "I’m not part of the group here. Don’t arrest me."

"SHUT UP, PAUL."

The bar had unionized against the Kingsguard in under ninety seconds. No organizer. No pamphlets. Just shared outrage and a man named Paul who was along for the ride against his will. Revolutions had started with less.

"Commander, with all due respect—" one of the undercover cops tried.

"There is no respect left in this building," Veyron said to no one and everyone. "This entire establishment is now under Kingsguard custody. Arrest the bar."

"The whole bar, Commander?"

"The whole bar."

Guinevere raised her hand again. The entire room fell silent in a vacuum.

"Is it customary for your people to arrest without stating the specific charges? I also noticed your officers didn’t announce themselves before drawing weapons. Is that standard procedure here or was that an oversight?"

The question was genuine. That was the worst part. Nicholas could feel it through their matebond

He closed his eyes again for a full second. He was developing a habit of closing his eyes every time Guinevere spoke. It was becoming a reflex. A survival mechanism. A prayer delivered through eyelids.

"EXACTLY. What she said! On what charges?" Paul’s friend demanded.

Veyron rattled the charges off without pausing. "Obstruction. Assault on officers. Interfering with Kingsguard operations. And whatever that man did with the pan."

The old man lowered the pan by one inch. "Self-defense."

"ARREST HIM FIRST. Everyone else. Against the wall. Now."

Nobody moved. Purse woman crossed her arms. The old man shifted his pan from resting to ready.

"NOW." Veyron boomed.

Guinevere raised her hand a third time.

A third time. She raised her hand for a third goddamn time. At her own arrest. In the middle of a standoff. While being held by a king. Like she was in class and had a question about the homework.

"I am the terrorist you are looking for. Not any of these good citizens," she began.

Nicholas’s soul left his body. There was not enough whiskey in Shadowfell to make Reed and Damon believe that a woman had raised her hand during her own arrest, warned her captors about contagious runes, and called herself a terrorist while being held like a bride. He was going to try anyway.

"So there is no need to arrest anyone outside of me, Commander," she continued. "I am more than willing to cooperate. I have a procedural question, however, is there a formal way for me to surrender in the Luminari culture? I don’t want to accidentally disrespect your sacred customs."

"I am Nicholas Shadowfell, King of the largest pack in Nyros. I know King Solveil personally and I think there may be a misunderstanding here," Nicholas jumped in. "Which is why I’d like to speak with King Solveil directly. If you are Commander of the Kingsguard, then you can facilitate a conversation."

That’s when the light started building. The universe had impeccable comedic timing and absolutely zero respect for anyone’s plans.

Nicholas felt it at the same instant Guinevere did, which meant they had a split second to respond.

She used her split second to wrap her arms around his neck and wince preemptively. In a room full of strangers and cops and chaos, the thing she grabbed was him. That detail was going to live in his heart for the rest of his life.

He used his to hold her tighter, pulling her against his chest. There was only the instinct, deep and absolute, that wherever she was going he was going with her and letting go was the one option his body had permanently removed from the menu.

CRACK.

White light swallowed them both.