Stone Prince

by Emma Alisyn

  Bea nodded. “True.”

  Watching as the Mogrens responded one by one to the charges brought against them, and the hissing boos of the crowd, Rhina knew her timeline would have to be months, not years. Anger roiled her gut. How the assembled gargoyles disrespected their own. The warriors on trial stood tall and proud, from one of the noblest, pureblood lines. How dare anyone judge them?

  The door slid open, and Sir Nikolau entered. He glanced at the screen on the desk, and a brief grimace crossed his face.

  “Don’t you have something more pleasant to do?” he asked, and briefly touched his mate’s cheek. He set down a large, brown bag, printed with the logo of the official Ioveanu chef.

  “You didn’t have to come in person,” Bea said, obviously pleased. She peered into the bag, and began extracting its contents. Clear containers of sandwiches on fluffy bread, green salads with strips of chicken or steak, and slices of cake.

  “It gave me an excuse,” he said.

  Rhina watched him covertly, curiosity roused as usual. He was a fine-looking warrior, loyal and skilled. She’d watched him in the yards, analyzed his movements. His family wasn’t rich, but they weren’t nobodies. Why in the world had he chosen a human female? Was it some perversity of character or fetish? Not that Bea wasn’t nice—for a human. She was.

  Niko glanced at Rhina. “You know you can comm the kitchen anytime you want, right?”

  Rhina smiled, since that was what she was expected to do, and lowered her eyes. “Thank you.”

  The audio on the screen jumped for a moment as the crowd shouted. Rhina's jaw tightened, and she looked down.

  Bea sighed. “It's not very pleasant, but I can’t help but be glad Geza caught them all. They didn’t care who they hurt.”

  “The trial is a formality,” Niko said, rubbing her back. “They’ll all be executed.”

  Rhina couldn’t take it. “He may not have caught them all.”

  Niko glanced at her, an air of surprised dismissiveness about him. Of course, he thought Rhina was simply Bea’s human assistant. “We were thorough.”

  Not as thorough as they all thought.

  “It will be over soon,” Bea said. “Geza doesn’t need anything happening at this ball.”

  “At least, we don’t have to worry about any eligible Mogren daughters showing up,” Niko muttered.

  Rhina stiffened. “Wouldn’t that be a suitable match? A Mogren female?”

  Niko looked at her again, this time a little longer. “Normally, since they have one of the purer bloodlines and are wealthy landowners. But under the circumstances . . . .”

  “Warring clans have wed before.”

  His eyes narrowed. If she wasn’t certain of her cover, she might be worried. But no one could break through her glamour, ever. “You seem to think you are well-informed.”

  “Rhina said she’s been studying,” Bea interjected.

  “Yes. I thought I could do a better job if I was more aware of the current environment.”

  He continued to watch Rhina. “The climate has nothing to do with icing flavors.”

  Her teeth grit, but she smiled. Even he knew how ridiculous this entire ball was. What Ioveanu Prince threw a ball with a cupcake buffet? It was intolerable.

  “You’re right, of course. It's all very interesting to an outsider. I've always enjoyed reading about history and politics.”

  He turned away after a moment, dismissing her, and she knew she’d probably offended him. She didn’t give a damn, personally, but it wouldn’t be a good move to make him an enemy.

  “It's hard to get an accurate perception when all you have is human media to go on,” Rhina said, throwing herself under the bus.

  He grunted, and caressed his wife’s cheek. “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon.”

  “You should go rest,” Bea said. “It’s too late in the day for you to be up like this.”

  He shrugged as he left. “There are benefits to the human blood. I have work to do.”

  After he left, Bea glanced at her, fingers drumming on the table. “Niko is very close to the Ioveanus. He may be a bit biased.”

  “You aren’t?” The question wasn’t hostile, merely curious.

  Bea shrugged. “My problem with them was they tried to kill people I care about and love. Other than that, I don’t really give a damn about gargoyle politics.”

  Rhina stared at her. “You do know you’re vassal to Prince Malin, correct?”

  Bea grinned. “Yup. I'm still human, though.”

  Demonstrably.

  Rhina altered her glamour on day two of the trial, having judged it safe enough to make the attempt despite earlier cautiousness. She had to remember, people saw what they expected to see. It was easy to make herself appear to be another nondescript, gargoyle female in the crowd, perhaps a member of security or staff. Her scent blended in, and her mannerisms morphed from that of a hesitant, but competent, human employee to someone who was a member of the community.

  The Mogrens were being tried in groups. Evidently, the tower staff had spent months gathering evidence through espionage and then through confiscated materials. Stupid. She’d tried to tell them that if they blatantly attacked the Prince it would give the Ioveanus a legal recourse to raid the estate. With Lavinia gone, Lourden had attempted to rule by committee, consolidating support within the family, slowly. Leaving room for mistakes. Rhina’s voice wasn't heard at all. She was a tool. A dangerous tool but tools, no matter how dangerous or useful, were not allowed to speak.

  Three of her cousins, several times removed, were on trial today. The preliminary hearings determined if there was enough evidence on a case by case basis to try a certain individual for high treason. So far, not one Mogren had escaped.

  She knew for a fact that the medium-height, rather plain-looking female standing pale and proud was innocent. She was, like Rhina, a useful member of the family but allowed no voice. Rhina watched, jaw tight, as they brought evidence against Tyra and discussed whether there was a reason for a trial.

  “The prince would be a fool to let any of them live,” someone murmured nearby to a companion. “Not even the chef.”

  Rhina inhaled, and turned on her heel, making her way through the crowd and out of the assembly room. She didn’t want to hear if Tyra would be remanded back into custody or let go. She already knew the answer. The Ioveanus didn’t maintain their rule by being just, or merciful.

  The urge to return to the small, tower office adjacent to Prince Geza’s business suite hit her. . . but no. It wasn’t time. Acting in haste would not only get her killed, but cause the failure of her mission.

  She was the only one left now.

  “We’re missing someone,” Niko said.

  He was certain of it. He’d gone over the Mogren files several times. They kept precise genealogy charts among the highborn gargoyle families. But the county medical records didn’t match Mogren genealogy charts. He accessed the database, sent off a request to the support desk for permission to access files. The publicly available data indicated there was an extra birth. A birth not listed in any family charts.

  Kausar glanced at him, grunted. “We got them all. The intelligence—”

  “Didn’t go over birth records for the past several decades for both legitimate and illegitimate births.” He handed Kausar his data.

  The Master of the Guard glanced at him, brow raised. “There’s not been an unsanctioned birth in the Mogren family for three hundred years. They think the cum they spew from their cocks is liquid gold.” His forehead creased as he read. “I see it.” He swore. “I’ll tell the Princes. I don’t believe in fucking coincidences.”

  3

  He watched the preliminary trials from a seat in the back of the room shrouded in shadow. As Prince, it was a traditional token of his trust in his government that he was excluded from the proceedings. And also, a way to settle the nerves of the nobles who over the decades rumbled about Ioveanu rule.

  They were fools. Like
he wanted any more work than he already had. Taking judiciary processing away from the Council would only land more paperwork on his desk. He was overjoyed to let them have the pleasure of it. Even now.

  Every Prince lived with the knowledge that he was to unlikely die in bed. The Mogren attempts on his life were annoying, and rage-inducing when it placed his people and family in danger, but he didn’t necessarily take it personally. The family would be tried, and the appropriate people executed as a matter of state, not because Geza really blamed them for wanting power, especially under Lavinia’s leadership.

  What female didn’t want power? If he found her, he would marry her.

  He rose from the chair and left the room through a side entrance, flexing his wings when in the main open hall and lifting in a powerful, vertical thrust. The tower had been built to allow for flight as a means of travel, but there were stairs and now elevators installed for wingless guests. It was really a feat of modern architectural design especially with the additions, which were constructed when he’d come into power. Surprisingly, the local human government had petitioned him about the possibility of arranging human tours. They marveled that the complex managed to feel residential even though it was really a hobbled together mass of government buildings and his private, living spaces.

  Geza landed on the third-highest floor where his public offices were located, and walked into the main room. Various members of staff, many human, were busy at work. He’d insisted the humans work gargoyle hours because no one wanted a flock of wingless ones running around during the day when people were weakened from the sun and asleep. He glanced at the newest human, Rhina, Bea’s assistant and nodded at her as he passed. She inclined her head in return, the movement elegant and worthy of a well-bred gargoyle female. Bea had done well hiring that one—she seemed to have an innate sense of propriety and lacked the wide-eyed awe and nervousness some of the other female employees demonstrated. Or flirtatiousness. He’d had to toss a few. He didn’t mix business with pleasure, ever, and a female batting her lashes at him when he was trying to work was an irritant.

  The door to his private work area slid open as he approached. Geza grimaced at the desk. A stack of paperwork had magically appeared during his absence. He wondered at his habit of insisting on paper . . . if it was a sign of madness. But there was something satisfying about balling up a sheet of paper and throwing it across the room when he was done with it, or if the contents annoyed him.

  Settling into his seat, a bit of shiny metal caught his eyes. Geza stilled. In the middle of a pile of paperwork sat a pretty amulet, the kind of thing a female might wear around her neck as a token of her family line.

  The Mogren family, to be more exact.

  He didn’t touch it. Tapping on his desk, a face flashed into view through the transparent glass. “Yes, Highness,” his secretary answered.

  “Who’s been in my office while I was gone?”

  She blinked. An older, competent female of a good, middle-blood family. Not a human in her line for the last three generations. “The logs indicate no one, Sire. The door is keyed to only open for select personnel when you are away.”

  He knew that. Any member of his immediate family could enter, his Master of Guard, and head of his personal security. That was it. Not even the Councilors . . . especially not the Councilors. He disconnected and stared at the amulet. He walked to the door of his office, and watched his staff work for a moment. Bea wasn’t present, something about feeding children dinner. It was aggravating, but she was competent, and her presence kept Niko firmly lashed to Geza’s side, which was the woman’s true purpose in being here, anyway.

  But the assistant was present, entering the office as Geza stood there, brooding. “Rhina,” he snapped. “Come here.”

  Something about her disturbed him. Initially, he had appreciated her clear-eyed, unafraid expressions and lack of subservience or feminine flirtatiousness. Now, he wondered. Not that he thought she could be a Mogren infiltrator, but shouldn’t she be a bit more in awe of his majesty?

  “Prince,” she said, and stopped just inside his office, inclining her head at the exact degree that was correct for the situation and her position in relation to him.

  Geza’s eyes narrowed. “Who taught you court etiquette?”

  She blinked, staring at him. She really wasn’t very interesting to look at. Not ugly, but not interesting. Medium-height, eyes that weren’t certain if they were brown or green. Brown hair neither dark nor light. A beige pantsuit. From one of those departments stores advertised on the screen. Very bland. As if she had spent time working at being bland.

  Suspicion rose for just a moment, and then, the female looked down, shifting nervously on her feet.

  “Ah . . . no one.” Her cheeks turned pink. “I read vlogs. Since I was a teenager. The gargoyle community has always interested me.”

  So she was a groupie. Just a more academically-inclined one. Poor female. Doubtless because she was plain and lacked any sort of personality, she’d learned not to make a fool of herself the way pretty females could. Suspicion eased, replaced instead by a kind of sympathy. Pretty females expected attention. The plain ones had to work for it, and were usually more deserving. She glanced up at him through her lashes, a combination of suspicious and shy, and a memory stirred.

  He banished it. “Come here,” he said, and waited as she approached. He indicated the amulet with his head. “Pick that up.”

  She reached out a hand then hesitated. “What is—it’s a necklace? Did someone lose it?”

  “Pick it up.” He was mostly certain it wasn’t booby trapped. If it was, it was likely to be keyed to gargoyle DNA, so she would be safe . . . enough. Unless it was poisoned. Surah could probably handle a simple poisoning, though.

  Rhina plucked the necklace off the stack of papers and looked up at him. “Should I return it?”

  Hmm. Not booby trapped. Disappointing. “No. Keep it.”

  A peculiar expression flashed across her face. “Is this a—it looks familiar.”

  “It should,” he replied, short. “The Mogren family crest has been all over the media with the drama of the preliminaries.”

  She slipped it into her pocket. “Thank you. It’s very interesting.”

  Doubtless she had a collection of touristy-type trinkets, though this wasn’t exactly a trinket. He wasn’t entirely certain of his whim to simply give it to her. But he wanted it gone, and if it held no clues—he doubted very seriously whoever had left it had obliged him by also leaving fingerprints or DNA evidence—then it was worthless to him.

  After she left, he contacted Sir Nikolau.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting your dinner,” Geza said pleasantly.

  Niko’s expression stilled, eyes narrowing. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  His people knew him so well. Geza strolled onto his balcony, looking up into the night sky. There were guards posted in the air, on the ground, and in the rooms above and beneath. No one should be able to fly up to these top floors without clearance, not if they wanted to keep their head.

  So they hadn’t caught the entire Mogren clan, after all. Or if they had, this was some new game set in motion long before the family had been rounded up. The only question was, how close to him was the assassin?

  Niko’s lack of surprise alerted Geza.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” he asked his head of security.

  Niko’s expression didn’t change, though Geza thought he saw a tinge of sourness in the guard's eyes. “We were going to wait to tell you until we had official confirmation. We think we missed someone.”

  Geza’s head tilted. “We had months of intelligence, data gathered from multiple warriors in the field. How is it that we missed someone?”

  Niko stiffened, likely responding to Geza’s silky-sweet tone of voice. The former Prince had liked to yell and snarl. Geza believed raising one’s voice was weakness.

  “There’s evidence of a birth recorded by law in county m
edical records, but not in Mogren official family archives.”

  “The Mogrens are fanatical about keeping their bloodline secure. Are you telling me that one of their members slipped the leash?”

  “We’re tracing all males and females of the appropriate age for siring or bearing offspring. We’ve also requested the county release the medical records.”

  Geza grimaced. “Wonderful. The Council will love this. I’ll have to listen to Malin’s bleating as well.”

  “I’m on it, Highness. We should know something by the end of the day tomorrow.”

  Niko left, and Geza turned his mind to other matters, allowing this new development to settle in the back of his thoughts, processing the latest information while he worked on other matters. He had couples to match and a bride to hunt.

  Rhina wasn’t a fool. She’d seen the way he’d looked at her, a sudden awareness in his expression. Not masculine interest, but the curiosity one might have towards a slightly different-looking insect. A quick analysis of her body language and speech caused her to mentally kick herself. She hadn’t fully shifted from her gargoyle persona back to her human one while making her way back to the office. Details like that would get her killed. Amateur mistakes. The only chance she had of surviving this mission was to ensure Prince Geza wasn’t interested in her at all, for any reason.

  She had to remind herself—standing in front of him—that though she knew him, he didn’t know her. That it was impossible for him to give her the acknowledgement she wanted. The only acknowledgment she would get from him was the explanation she would demand right before she killed him. His last few moments when she dropped her glamour, so he could look into her real eyes, recognize her face and silver-white hair, hear her voice, and understand that betrayal had consequences.

  Do you remember me, Geza? Do you remember my mother?

  Lately, the fantasy of his blood on her hands had slowly given way to focus on her desire for an explanation. The fatigue of constantly pretending to be someone she wasn’t in the face of Bea’s matter-of-fact warmth and the bombardment of anti-Mogren sentiment. She now knew, more than ever, what her family’s enemies thought and felt. Their anger wasn’t unjustifiable.