She raised a hand. “I mean no offense. But it is every female’s hope that her children are healthy and strong and able to fly the night skies.”
“So what do you want? For me to convince Malin to say no? Already with you.”
“No, that is not what I want. I want the alliance with Malin. But through you.”
“Excuse me?”
Her gaze was steady. “I will be your handmaiden, Lady Surah. I will bear a child from your mate, and the child will be both yours and mine. To be handmaiden to the former Prince and his consort is not a dishonor, and if I do this, I will have my freedom. I will belong to you and Prince Malin, and you will allow me to live my life as I please.”
Surah felt dizzy. Of all the scenarios she’d considered, this was not one of them. That a woman would be willing to enter that kind of arrangement in order to escape…it was an indictment on gargoyle culture, especially highborn gargoyle culture. Where women were still often, archaically, considered bargaining tools for their families. Though to be fair, young men were also considered tools.
“Lady Sililu.…”
Sililu stood, silk gown swishing as she began to pace. Her wings rustled, restless. “I’m tired of being a pawn,” she snapped. “I want some choice in whom I am to give my womb to. I’ve watched you over the years. You’re kind enough, and not obsessed with tradition or honor like the males are. I want a family, but I want to be free to pursue my own interests.”
“You don’t want love?” she asked softly.
Sililu stilled, looking down. “I don’t expect to find it. And to be part of a home where there is warmth–I think that will be enough. I would live with you and Lord Malin, bear the Heir the faction wants, and be your sister. I would not object to the love between you and the Prince.”
Surah was silent a long moment. She watched the gargoyle, saying nothing. She was assured of Malin’s love, and these kind of arrangements were not unheard of–it would be politically expedient. Her heart twisted. She didn’t want her lover and her brother to fight, she didn’t want Geza’s mistake to cost him his seat. Or his life.
“You could just leave your family,” Surah said. “You can live in the human world–you would have your freedom then.”
Sililu held her eyes. “You know that is a lie. I would be hunted down and the next male they offered me to, as wife, would not be as pleasant as your brother or lover.”
Surah stood, pacing back and forth. “Someone has to be the first. Lavinia—”
“Has forged independence by shedding her own family’s blood.”
Frustrated, she tugged her hair. “Those are rumors.” Sililu just smiled, though her eyes were grave.
“No, they aren’t.” She shocked Surah by lowering herself to her knees, gown spreading gracefully around her. “I beg you, princess. If I fail in this, my father will punish me. And the consequences for the Ioveanu’s will be serious, as well. My father is not one to take an offense without returning it threefold.”
For a moment she hated all gargoyles, and then common sense reasserted itself. There were problems in human culture as well. And even hating things with penises was foolish. Surah sighed. “I’ll have to speak with Malin. It’s about more than Geza trying to get out of his responsibilities.”
“By all means. But hurry? Neither of us has much time to waste.”
15
The wide double doors flew open, crashing into the wall with a bang that had Surah reaching for a phantom blade. A reaction she hadn’t had for years, a life and lab away from her training days. A male strode in, loamy dark wings flaring to full mast, nostrils flaring when he saw Surah. Iron grey hair was braided tightly away from his face; he wore all black in a style Surah felt she should recognize.
“Father?” Sililu’s voice was edged.
Oh.
Prince Ludargo Cernea ignored his daughter, fixing eyes on Surah. “Your brothers are fighting, Lady Surah.” He glanced at his daughter, glare cutting. “I would suggest you be moved to intervene.”
“Fuck.” The expletive slipped out as Surah kicked herself into gear.
“No, you stay here,” Ludargo said, slashing an arm towards his daughter as Sililu followed after her. Surah grabbed her upper arm, pulling her along.
“My handmaid will remain with me,” Surah snapped, the words tumbling out almost before she realized she said them. She felt the sudden tension in the tightening of her muscles, struggled to push aside her own shock as well at her impulsiveness. But she wouldn’t leave an ant at the mercy of this man–he had eyes like a snake. Ludargo froze for a split second.
“So,” he said softly, staring at his daughter. “That was your game.”
“There are no times for games; follow or not.”
Ludargo turned on his heels as Surah passed him, ignoring the guards who flanked them silently. They strode through the halls of the compound, Surah not quite ready to forgo all dignity and run. Now, more than ever, it was vital she present a front of strength and cunning.
It sounded like Geza was having a particularly rowdy party. Surah knew better, especially as she recognized the roar of her lover from behind the closed doors. A double row of guards stood between Surah and her brother.
She paused before they were within ear reach, turning slightly to meet Ludargo’s eyes. “Whose side are you on?”
“My own,” came the pointed reply. “I will not act against you–or my daughter. But I will not act for you, if you prove weak.”
Surah nodded; fair enough. One of these days, she would have to figure out exactly what was in it for Ludargo to be here, treating with the Ioveanu’s for an alliance. The guards eyed her stoically as she approached with the air of a woman who intended on walking right through them, allowing ice to creep into her eyes, and the promise of retribution if she was thwarted. To her surprise, they parted–albeit at the last possible moment. It saved Surah from looking like a fool, running smack into the rock hard chests of males who trained in battle on a daily basis. She vowed she would take back up the skills she’d thought to leave behind.
They also allowed Sililu and her father in. Surah filed the cooperation away to analyze at a later time. It could be they belonged to Kausar–it could be they were uneasy with the discord between Princes.
She stopped inside the doors, waiting until they closed behind her and Sililu was at her side. Inhaling, she roared. The two males faltered, recognizing her voice. Half-human though she was, wingless and weaker than the average gargoyle, the one trait she did carry was her roar.
Malin’s wings faltered. The Princes’ were in the air—no blades drawn, it hadn’t deteriorated that far—and Surah’s fury erupted. The amount of energy the eldest gargoyle would have to expend to remain in gargoyle form and in the air….
“Are you two morons?”
Geza snarled, turning in midair and streaking towards Surah. Malin darted after, snagging his ankle and flinging him backwards with a massive surge of strength, face twisting. He dropped an entire foot in the air from the strain.
“This won’t work,” Sililu said and launched upwards.
She flew towards the pair with a grace and precision that spoke of flight training–unusual for a woman, coming between the two with a deftness that impressed Surah. She managed not to get caught in the crossfire of fists and battling wings. The males surged apart, momentarily startled by the appearance of the female. Neither would risk harming her. She hovered in the air between them with strong sweeps of her wings, a dark purple flush of anger on her cheeks.
“You are fools allowing yourselves to be manipulated,” she snapped. “You have a common enemy–do you think Lavinia Mogren is doing anything but laughing at you right now?”
Surah folded her arms, relaxing. She couldn’t have dealt with this better herself.
“Go back to your quarters,” Geza yelled.
“No.” She turned her back on him, looking at Malin. “Lord Malin, I am—”
“I know who you are,” he rumble
d. They landed, perhaps a mutual decision, Sililu angling her body, so Geza would have to go through her to get to his brother. Surah watched Malin, his rigidly controlled posture which suggested–to someone familiar with the Prince–that he was exhausted. When Malin stumbled over his own feet, swiftly correcting himself, Surah gritted her teeth. The fool.
“And did you know that your mate has accepted me as her handmaiden?”
Well, hell. Surah’s arms dropped to her sides and she strode forward. Malin’s head swung towards her, eyes glowing. “What the fuck?”
Surah had heard Malin swear before, just not lately. Unexpectedly, a tenor laugh rang out in the hallway, bouncing off the walls as Geza landed gracefully. He swiped the back of his hand along his mouth, blotting a thin stream of blood. Malin watched Surah, ignoring a similar cut along his brow.
“Surah, what have you done?” Malin asked.
“It happened a little fast,” Surah said, a bit plaintive. “We’ve just opened negotiations.”
Malin’s head turned as Prince Ludargo approached. “Did you know about this?”
“My daughter knows her duty.”
A non-answer if Surah had ever heard one. Geza called him on it. “You have the honor of a self-serving snake,” the Prince sneered. “Can’t commit to a side.”
“Neither of the sides seems to have grown up,” Ludargo replied coldly, unoffended. “If one of you would step forward and claim rulership with the maturity expected of your bloodline—”
Geza took a step towards him. “You think you can do better?”
“I don’t want to do better. I am not Ioveanu–I am Cernea.” Contempt shone through Ludargo’s eyes. “Are you so feeble-minded you don’t understand what is happening? The Mogrens are trying to abolish traditions our people have lived by for millennium–that isn’t a precedent that needs to be set in any territory. And you children are playing right into their hands.”
Malin stiffened, a snarl forming on his lips. Surah approached him, placing a hand on his clammy brow, staring into the dilated pupils of his eyes.
“I need my medical kit,” Surah said, glancing at Geza. “It’s in our car.”
Geza gave Malin a long look and then half flew in powerful leaps of thigh and wing across the hall, flinging open one side of the doors and barking an order at a guard.
“What started the fight?” Surah asked quietly.
Malin drew an arm across his forehead. “The Mogren daughter needling him. She wanted to have me arrested.”
“Excuse me? Arrested? On what charge?” Her chest swelled with outrage.
“Kausar declared fealty in front of the assembly.”
“He did what?”
Malin sighed, walked away several feet and righted an overturned chair to sit. It told Surah just how weak the gargoyle must feel, if he’d deign to sit in front of witnesses. Surah followed Malin, dropping to her knees in front of the male, peering up at the Prince’s lowered head. Strands of dark hair hung limply along his neck.
“Malin?” Surah swore as her mate slumped forward, grabbing him around the chest and holding him in his seat. “Geza!”
“What’s wrong with him?” her half-brother asked behind her.
“What do you think, Geza? Goddamnit.”
They waited a tense few minutes until Kausar appeared with Surah’s medical bag. The weapons master glanced at Malin, impassive. Surah snatched the bag, unzipping an inner compartment and pulling out a small case. Setting aside the case, she felt Malin’s pulse, took his blood pressure manually with a cuff and a stopwatch. Swore, thinking hard about what she was about to do. Coming to a decision, Surah took out the vial of new, experimental serum and a needle, piercing the seal with the needle tip and withdrawing the liquid. She pushed aside a flap of torn shirt and injected Malin’s bicep, mouth grim. What choice did she have? Her mate’s heart rate and blood pressure were dropping, skin going cold. Surah knew he’d taxed precious reserves his body didn’t want to replace.
They waited for several minutes. Suddenly Malin snapped upright, wheezing and clutching his chest. It startled Surah enough that she froze for several seconds before scrambling to her feet. “Malin!”
“I feel like I’ve been kicked by a horse in the chest,” the gargoyle said. “What did you do to me?”
“Saved your life. You ate up all your strength arguing with Geza–over nothing.”
“Is it nothing?” Geza asked, looking over Surah’s shoulder coolly.
Surah didn’t turn, didn’t move, ignoring them both as she monitored Malin’s heart rate, turning his head to look into his eyes. “I gave you the new serum, Malin; we’re going to have to monitor you closely over the next few hours.”
Malin stared at her, eyes widening. “I feel…fine.”
Surah rose. “We need to get you to your suite. Geza, you didn’t turn it into a pool hall or anything, did you?”
The Prince shrugged. “Had a few parties—it has the best view. But I’m sure the staff cleaned up from the last time.”
“Wonderful.”
Geza nodded solemnly, waving a hand. Surah didn’t bother to sigh, worried enough about Malin that she let her own sarcasm go. Wrapping an arm around his back, Surah nearly tumbled as Malin surged to his feet. The gargoyle grabbed Surah’s arm.
“My apologies, Surah. I’m fine, you don’t need to fuss.” His gaze turned towards the silent Sililu, thoughtful. “It seems that we need to have a long talk, however.”
Sililu bowed. “I am at your disposal, Lord.”
Geza snorted. “He’d better hope not. Do you really think I’m going to allow you all to walk out and go conspire against me?”
“Geza—”
“Don’t ‘Geza’ me,” he snapped. “You’re worse than all of them–at least they don’t pretend to be loyal like you do.”
Surah stared at him, angry. “That’s bullshit. But whatever. Come if you want. You can watch us talk about you all you like.”
Geza bared his teeth. “It sounds fun.”
It was a silent group that walked back to Sililu’s quarters. The servants and guards tried not to stare. Everyone knew the royal family was odd, but today’s events…Surah was certain no one knew how to take the apparent camaraderie between two Princes’ who were just fighting a minute ago.
When they arrived in Malin’s suite, Surah didn’t waste time. “Everyone sit.”
“This is my room,” Malin said, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s my castle,” Geza said, settling onto the cream couch. His legs and wings sprawled, taking up more space than was politely his. Narrowed eyes dared anyone to say anything about it.
“It occurs to me,” Malin said, “that whatever issues the nobles would like us to have with each other—and whatever legitimate issues they have with your style of rule, Geza, that it hasn’t rightfully come to a point where there needs to be pitched battle in the throne hall.”
“It sounds like you’re attempting to avoid open treason, Prince Malin,” Cernea said, voice cool. “What exactly does that mean for my daughter?”
“You know, you aren’t in any position to make requests, considering we all know your allegiance will go to the highest bidder,” Geza said.
“Not the highest bidder. The strongest ruler. Whether that is yourself, my Prince, or Prince Malin, remains to be determined.”
Malin stiffened. Surah strolled over to her mate and dug her fingers in the gargoyle’s tense neck and shoulders, massaging. After spending years in human society, Surah supposed both she and Malin were in a unique position to appreciate just how direct gargoyles could be. They certainly weren’t much for subterfuge. Surah rubbed a particularly nasty knot in Malin’s neck. He mmmed, body relaxing.
“Uh, can you do that somewhere else?” Geza asked, averting his gaze.
“Awww, would Gezie wike a wackwub, too?” Surah asked, in her best high-pitched singsong voice.
Her brother shuddered. “If you touch me I’ll cut your hands off. Gross.” The Princ
e’s gaze slid to Sililu. “Now, a backrub from—”
Cernea growled, interrupting Geza before he could complete the insult.
“Can you focus?” Malin snapped. “You have two factions fighting here–one fighting for me to take control. But their main concern is your bloody incompetence. If you started acting like an adult they would back off.”
Geza’s face tightened as he sat up, wings snapping in irritation. “You insult me in front of my subjects?”
“You wanted to be here,” Malin reminded him. “The next problem is Mogren. She doesn’t want another Prince, they want democracy.”
Surah laughed. Malin said the word like it was a rotten jellybean he’d been tricked into chewing. And he was a CEO over a mostly human run corporation.
Geza looked at Malin with false patience. “Do you think I don’t know that? But I have no cause to arrest either of them. Lavinia, especially, has been very careful not to go beyond the scope of law.”
“Oh really? And were you aware her men attacked Surah again–this time in the livery of your personal guard?”
“What?” Geza surged to his feet, dark eyes glittering. “I told that bitch that if she ever—”
“She must not have gotten the memo,” Surah interjected, snide.
“It still isn’t enough,” Cernea said flatly. “The only way you will get the Assembly to go along with the arrest and conviction of a sitting noble Council member is if she is caught in the act of treason. Openly caught.”
“Draw her out,” Surah said. “Make it look like you two are angry and fighting with each other–pitched battle in the halls. If she thinks you’ve weakened each other to the point where she can step in and kill two stones with one bird.…” Or was it kill two birds with one stone? She’d ask Cole next time she saw him.
“It’s a simple plan,” Cernea said, “and probably all the better for it. Complicated plans tend to go awry.”
“This is all very good,” Sililu said, snapping the skirts of her gown. “But what I am most concerned with is my own disposition.”
Geza sat back down, staring hard at the female. “You said Surah is taking you off my hands–what’s there to be concerned about?”
Summer Shifter Nights Page 18
