Prince of Power (9 page)

“Jesus, Isabel, I really hope you're wrong about that. If she is involved with this wizard intimately, it's even less likely that I can trust her judgment.”

Isabel pulled away, and for all his power and station, he fidgeted uncomfortably under the intensity of her stare. “When you met me, you didn't know me. I was a stranger. A prophecy brought you to me. What if someone had told you then that I couldn't be trusted? That your assessment of me could not be counted on because your belief in the prophecy had clouded your judgment? Or if somebody had suggested that I was an unworthy queen because my best friend was a human?” Her breath caught on a sob. Thad reached to comfort her, but she held up a hand. “Or that I was a danger to our race because I got myself captured by wizards and ended up getting one of your fighters killed in the process?”

Thad's heart ached. For Isabel's pain and guilt, and for his own loss of a good friend and a good soldier. His arms reached for her almost automatically. The flesh on his fingers itched to thread through her soft mane of hair and pull her tight. But he would always wait for Isabel to come to him, like a wild animal that could never be tamed. When she remained a mere arm's length apart from him, and at the same time worlds away, Thad sighed with his arms akimbo and his head dropped back onto his shoulders.

“Okay, I see what you're trying to get at, but it's a very different situation, Isabel. And fair or not, I'm king and Tyra isn't the one in charge. It still falls to me to make these decisions. If she is wrong about this wizard and his intentions, then our race is in far greater jeopardy than it has ever been. And the blame will lie on my shoulders, not hers.”

Isabel's arms crossed over her chest, and her expression changed to one that Thad could not give name to but had quickly learned to recognize. Whatever was about to come out of her mouth would be exceedingly reasonable and would somehow at the same time make him want to put his fist through a wall.

“So talk to him, Thad. I don't mean sit him down and interrogate him, I mean talk. You're a good judge of character, and if you need to get your own warm and fuzzy that Tyra is judging him accurately, then this is the way to do that. And talk to
her
, while you're at it. I suspect you've done nothing but yell since she's gotten back. She's made some mistakes, but she had good reason for them, so find out what they were before you convict your own sister.”

Thad's jaw cracked. “Yelling isn't all I've done.”

The quirk of Isabel's eyebrow made it exceedingly clear that she didn't believe that. “Talk to her, Thad.”

In the midst of letting out the longest breath he could manage, Thad's jaw cracked painfully again, and loudly enough that even Isabel winced. His gut soured and knotted. His mate was right. Still, his pride could not countenance being told how to handle this situation by her or by anyone else. Wisely, even Lee and Siddoh had refrained from offering their two cents.

Tension spread throughout his body despite the marathon lovemaking only minutes before. That Isabel could feel his anger was as clear as the nose on her face. She held his gaze with an unwavering stare. If they tried to make this a contest, they'd be here all night. Thad growled and spun on his heel. “I have the Council meeting.”

“Thad.” He'd just reached the door when the soft warmth of Isabel's body pressed against his back. Her arms wrapped around his. They breathed together like that, totally in sync, until Thad's muscles unwound again. “It isn't you against everyone. I'm trying to help.”

He turned over his shoulder to kiss her. “I know,” he said.

Tyra's fangs sank into her flesh. Pain shot from her wrist to her elbow, and disbelief at the sight of her own blood stunned her for longer than it should have. The heavy, slow thuds of her own heart echoed loudly in the quiet of her bedroom.

Ouch
. She'd never bitten into her own vein, and she wasn't holding on to another body to ground herself, so her fangs didn't hit their mark cleanly.

Anton mumbled incoherently but didn't exactly answer her. Not that she'd expected him to. He'd been barely there for most of the day, aside from occasional restless flailing and a more recent bout of shivers. The shivering was somewhat contradictory, given that he was sweating so profusely that he'd dampened her nicest thousand-thread-count sheets and his forehead was hot to the touch.

Thanks to her hesitation, fat drops of blood hit her silk duvet before she managed to position the flow over Anton's mouth. Between this and the living room, her house was starting to look like some kind of war zone.

“Okay, Anton.” Her fingers brushed lightly over his lips to pull his mouth open. Her index finger had a jagged nail, and she didn't want to scratch him. Silly as
that
was. The doctor had given him a sedative, but he was moving more. Hopefully that meant he'd be able to drink on his own. “You helped me, so it's time I return the favor.”

While the blood drizzled in, Tyra looked out through the cracked window blinds. The sun would be going down soon. Just before dawn, she'd forcibly removed Siddoh from the house and moved Anton to the bed so he could rest more comfortably.

Despite her assurances that she'd call when Anton was awake, she was dead-certain that someone would return at dusk and it wouldn't be pretty. But Anton's condition had worsened over the day, and the doctor had bluntly stated that he didn't know a thing about how to treat a wizard medically. Why would he, after all? They'd never cared about healing one before.

Tyra was short on time as well as options.

“Come on, Anton. Work with me here.” Her fingers slid over his throat in the hope that would encourage the first swallow. He coughed and sputtered.
Jeez, don't kill him, Ty.
The wet sounds of his throat working were far more satisfying than they should have been.

Along with the hot, tight seal of his mouth against her arm came a slushy, cold sensation of fear. It pushed along her arm and spread through her body like a moving glacier. She'd never experienced anything quite like that from anybody before. But then there was another hard gulp. And another.

Her relief was immense and dizzying. Anton groaned in his half sleep and swallowed again, tipping his head unconsciously and sliding his tongue on her skin for better suction. His breath deepened audibly, and his bare chest rose and fell with the effort. Something deep and primitive and fiery stirred inside Tyra. Something she'd never experienced before.

She knelt there by the bed, her breath coming in shallow pants while her free hand gripped a fistful of duvet. “Oh hell.”

Sometimes the blood exchange was sensual, sure. But this… a rush of desire chased Anton's panic, melting the icy slush as it flowed from his body into hers and pooling deep in her core. It couldn't even possibly be something he was conscious of.

Anton sucked harder and Tyra gasped. A part of her was embarrassed at having such a very base response, even though nobody was there to witness it. Not even him, actually. His eyes were still closed, and though he reacted physically, he clearly was still on a different plane somewhere.

She closed her eyes and shifted a little, thinking she might clear her mind or find a position where the seam of her fatigues wasn't pressing in such a stimulating way. But when she opened her eyes again, everything was even more muddled. It wasn't clear anymore what was her own physical need and what was channeling from Anton.

Her hand wandered from the bed across his face. A coarse dusting of stubble coated his jaw and chin. His cheekbones were prominent, his nose almost patrician. His chin was square, with a slight divot under all the stubble. In sleep, with his impossibly long eyelashes, he didn't look like someone capable of great evil. Or even the offspring of a great evil.

It was incomprehensible that he'd done so much to protect her. That he could claim to love her. He didn't
know
her. But the way he'd charged Siddoh. For
her.

Damned if that didn't
do
things to a female.

She settled her hand in the center of his chest, just under that soft ridge of scar tissue. Even in his sleep his face was actually rather handsome. “You do manage to make a girl feel precious,” she murmured.

***

Thad had only visited the Elders' Council a handful of times—once when presented on his eighteenth birthday as the future heir to the throne, a few times as an observer during his father's rule, and once a week earlier to present Isabel as his queen.

This time, he stared out at the crowd of old vampires situated around the terraced, amphitheater-style room with awe more than fear. The long walnut table in front of Thad would have been where his father sat as Thad's closest advisor for maybe a century, perhaps even more, before he should have been forced to fly solo.

Best-laid plans
.

He gripped the edges of the podium hard to keep his fingers still on the lacquered wood. “I want to thank you all for coming tonight.” Everyone looked so serious. Thad worked to keep his body language easy and calm. No need to make matters worse. Holy effing Christmas, these folks would all shit kittens if they caught wind of what was brewing back at the estate. “I'd like to keep this meeting brief. As we make the transition from one leader to the next, things may be rocky. After tonight, though, we can return to regular semi-annual status updates.”

Lots of nods and murmurs. A few hundred in the room, probably. Many empty chairs scattered around. Their numbers were dwindling to so few.

To the far left, at the end of one of the long tables, a male stood so fast that his silvery braid of hair flopped over his shoulder. Thad recognized Elder Grayson as the father of his house manager, Ivy. The guy lived on the far residential quarter of the estate and Thad had seen him around. Seemed kind of quiet and solitary, though, and they'd never spoken much.

Not tonight. Tonight, Elder Grayson was troubled in his demeanor and tight in his carriage, but he clearly had a lot to say. “Highness, I would like to bring to the table two issues of great concern.” He spread his arms wide and stepped onto the tier of seats above him, apparently intent on roaming the room while he made his request. “I imagine you can see that our numbers are few these days. Lots of empty seats at tables that once were full.”

Thad nodded. “Our numbers are down society-wide, Elder Grayson. This is my highest priority and has been from day one. I have a meeting scheduled with my military to discuss proactive measures as soon as I leave here.” It was sort of true, anyway.

The man nodded, flipping his braid dramatically over to the other shoulder. Was it very heavy? “Of course you do, sir. Only, we on the council feel that it is important for us to step up our efforts as well. You're such a young king, after all.”

Thad's squeeze on the podium made a tiny squeak that echoed in the large room. Beside him, Lee shifted and tensed. They should have known this was coming. “My father was young once too, Elder Grayson. He led effectively. I have every confidence in my ability to do the same.” He drew up, shoulders back, spine so straight that they could have stacked books on the top of his head like a damn debutante. No way would these old bastards would ever see him sweat.

Elder Grayson's erratic pacing was causing agitation in the room, and Thad suspected it was intentional. Heads swiveled back and forth; voices mumbled. What was going on here? Weeks prior, when Thad had been on the quest to fulfill the prophecy that would lead him to Isabel, there had been rumors that some on the Elder Council wanted to overthrow his rule. Perhaps it was more than just rumor.

“Elder Grayson, do you have a point to make here?”

That stopped him, at least for the moment. Elder Grayson cleared his throat and managed something almost like a bow. “Yes, sir. I'd like to propose increasing the frequency of the Council meetings.”

Thad almost pulled a Tyra and rolled his eyes at the elder. “And?” Because without a doubt, there was more.

“The Elder Council is so much smaller than it used to be. We could regain our numbers by lowering the age of induction. Say, from one thousand to eight hundred years of age.”

Lee coughed quietly. Thad's first in command, who rarely broke a sweat, now radiated tension. “No way. Table it, Thad. Fucking table it.”

Over the murmurs in the room, Lee's hiss of a whisper couldn't have been heard by anybody but Thad. There was no time to discuss the whys and wherefores of his guard's vehemence, but Thad nodded in agreement. No way would he give his assent now, and Lee didn't ask him for much. “Elder Grayson—”

“In addition,” the elder continued, “we would like to revisit the issue regarding human-vampire interaction. We believe that our mixing with modern society and the human world continues to be the greatest risk to the safety of our species and should not be summarily dismissed.”

This was not going to fly. Thad pointedly stepped back from the podium and folded his arms, waiting. It was not only rude to interrupt the king while he was speaking in front of the Council, but it was against the rules of conduct. Unquestionably Elder Grayson knew this.

Lee leaned to the side. “Either he's testing you or just being an asshole.”

Thad smiled a little, maintaining eye contact with Elder Grayson. He made certain to show a friendly hint of fang. “Both, maybe,” he said under his breath. When the ambient murmurs of agreement and disagreement had ebbed, Thad stepped forward. “I won't have you talking over me, Elder Grayson. Before I respond, do you have anything else of dire importance you'd like to request?”

There was a responding confused frown. Elder Grayson shook his head. “No. We just want to be sure that you have adequate guidance—”

“Good. Then perhaps you'd be more comfortable in your seat.” Thad glanced at his watch.
Stand
still. No finger tapping. Keep your hands out of your hair. Whatever you do, don't throw a fireball at anyone
.

“I meant it when I said I needed to keep things short tonight. I came here to announce to you all that your queen is with child.” He ignored the raised hands of those who wanted to ask questions. “My place, especially during these first crucial weeks, is with her. I did not come tonight to have a long conversation about a topic that had already been laid to rest.”

He held up a hand when the mumbles and grumbles rose louder. “Obviously, I want to hear your concerns. Let's schedule a special session so that we can discuss these matters properly. Elder Grayson, I will have your daughter send out a notice with the details. Thank you.”

He gave a nod to the crowd and signaled Lee, who led him out. Thad had left no room for questions or negotiation. The real issue, of course, was that he needed time to get his head together before discussing these issues. Find out what the deal was with Lee. Thad truly didn't see a need to lower the age at which upper-class vampires and soldiers retired to the Council. Elder Grayson's logic struck him as half-baked at best. Still, this political stuff was going to be a minefield, and clearly some members of the Council had designs on using Thad as a sock puppet, thanks to his youth.

That'd be a cold day in hell. He might be young, but sure as hell, he wasn't stupid.