Iladrul cocked his head slightly and turned on his chair to face the doxy. “Excuse me?”
“It’s late.” Osete replied, still not raising his gaze to look at Iladrul. “No one of any consequence is awake. And, should anyone happen to see him, is it unreasonable that a prince would command his stable boy special allowances for his horse?”
Iladrul shook his head. “I do not wish for him to be punished.”
“He wouldn’t be if I were in the room with you.” He finally raised his gaze. As he did so, his cheeks grew slightly pink. Iladrul found himself oddly drawn to the boy in that moment because his embarrassment gave his features a girlish quality that reminded Iladrul of Sezja. “No one would believe you’d share my services with a stable boy.”
Iladrul looked swiftly away. He didn’t like the flare of emotion that rose up in him at that statement. “What nonsense are you speaking of?”
“Only that, if you were to pass me about, you wouldn’t dirty me with his lowly hands.” Osete swallowed. “Forgive me, my Prince. I didn’t mean to step out of line with the offer.”
Iladrul returned his gaze to the boy. He studied Osete’s features for a long, uncertain moment before lowering his gaze. “I’m sorry, Osete.”
“My Prince?” The surprise in his tone was palpable.
“You didn’t step out of line.” He forced himself to meet the other boy’s gaze. “I would like to see Gregor.”
Osete smiled. “I’ll go fetch him.”
“Thank you.” Iladrul smiled in response. “Keep in mind we didn’t part well. Don’t force him to come if he doesn’t wish to see me.”
Osete’s smile grew as he found his feet. Iladrul watched him with great curiosity as he strode away. He wondered why, unlike Osete’s brothers and sister, the boy was always so kind to him.
Shaking his head, he returned his gaze to the mirror.
It didn’t matter why Osete was being kind. The fact that he was, Iladrul supposed, was enough. Whatever motivation the boy had in befriending Iladrul was his own business.
As he was toying with his crown, debating whether he should put it back on or not, the flap of the tent opened. The moment that it did so, the air was permeated with the smell of hay and horses.
Iladrul flew to his feet and flung himself toward Gregor. As he took him in his arms, he felt the other boy first stiffen and then raise his right arm to hug him back.
“My friend.” Iladrul turned his face to kiss Gregor’s cheek before releasing him. Gregor wore a sloppy, dumbfounded smile that brought his heart joy. “I’ve missed you.”
“Yet, it took you long enough to realize that, with neither your father here nor mine, we might hold palaver with one another.” Gregor chuckled as his eyes flicked to Osete, who was now entering the tent behind him, and then back to Iladrul. “I thought you hated me now.”
“No.” Iladrul shook his head. “I didn’t want to get you in trouble. Who knows what Balean would tell my father if he saw us together.”
“That I’m a better swordsman than his son.” Gregor shrugged. “You can’t seriously be thinking of making that boy your General.”
“It’s his right as Balean’s heir.” Iladrul sighed. “You still practice, then?”
“Not with anyone that’s worthy.” He shrugged again. “My little brother.”
“Then, perhaps, it’s time you fight against a real warrior.” Iladrul grinned and turned to Osete. “Fetch my split sword.”
“Yes, my Prince.” Osete beamed as he spun away to do as he was bid.
When he was gone, Gregor leaned toward Iladrul and asked, “How was it?”
“How was what?”
Gregor snorted and elbowed him. “Your first time, you dolt!”
“No.” Iladrul laughed and shook his head. “I haven’t broken any of them yet.”
Gregor blinked and let out a whistle through his teeth. “Not even the girl?”
Iladrul blushed as he shook his head.
“I always knew you were a fool.” Gregor winked at him and then let out one of his large, jolly laughs. “I’d have pinned her down the first night I owned her.”
“I’m trying to be a kinder master.” Iladrul replied tersely. “If she wants to come to my bed, she will.”
Gregor shook his head. “I bet there are plenty of doxies back home who wish their masters were half as kind.”
“There are plenty of doxies back home who lay as ashes on the wind.” Iladrul snapped. “And plenty more ahead of us who are, more than likely, going to follow them.”
Gregor flinched at the reminder of what had happened in the Doxy Village. Being a stable boy, rather than a freeman or noble, Gregor had been schooled with the doxy children. Some of them that were now dead were his friends. Never mind that he was in love with one of the girls that had been taken. It was this, more than anything else, which had encouraged him to volunteer to travel with Iladrul in his father’s place.
“Do you think she’s well?” He asked, his voice shaking. He understood that Iladrul could drive out his heart for asking such a question of a doxy. He had no right. “Is she still alive?”
“I don’t . . .” Iladrul sighed. His eyes flicked to the tent flap, which was opening, as Osete entered. He debated not finishing his sentence and then decided that, at some point, he had to start trusting the boy. He gave Osete a tight smile and returned his attention to Gregor. “I believe she is alive. But, no, Gregor. I do not believe she fares overly well. Lord Jamiason was very clear that he meant to force them to breed with one another.”
Both boys paled. Iladrul instantly regretted his honesty.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “But if they don’t, then their lives will be forfeit.”
“If they do their lives are forfeit!” Gregor snapped indignantly.
“I won’t let them be punished for something that isn’t their fault.” Iladrul assured Gregor.
“The boys have all been cut.” Osete reminded Iladrul, his face pallid and his tone one of fear. “They can’t breed. What will happen to them when the vampires realize that?”
“We’ll just have to retrieve them before they can.” Iladrul advised them both. “Anyway, what they really want is their blood. Not their babies.”
“How are they keeping them prisoner during the day?” Gregor wondered aloud. “Do we know?”
“They must have allies.” Iladrul muttered a supposition he had held since the doxies had first been taken. “Someone who guards them when the sun is out.”
“Who would do that?” Osete’s tone was heavy with venom.
Iladrul shook his head. He didn’t know.
“Come.” Iladrul said as he reached for the split sword still held in Osete’s hand. “Let’s do something useful with our time.” He raised his gaze to meet Gregor’s. “Osete and I must train my future General of Arms.”
-22-
“Morning.” Aiken, whose mind was on the mess that Jamiason had gotten himself into with the elves, grunted at Loki when he stepped into the kitchen.
He was furious with Iykva and the other demons for having attacked the elves after promising a truce while visiting his Oakland Grove. When he’d seen the devastation for himself, after the pixy souls he kept in the bauble around Iladrul’s neck had called to him, he’d wanted nothing more than to stake the damn demon to the ground to face the morning sun.
“Is there anything in the cooling cupboard for the dog?”
“Not much.” Aiken replied. “I think there might be some pork.” Loki nodded and bent over to see for himself. As he did so, Aiken shared the news that he had been dreading. “Metatron visited me yesterday.”
Loki looked at him over the door of the cupboard. After Aiken had met with the King of Lords in regard to his mischief with the humans and the dragons, they had both been expecting a visit from Metatron with the King of Lords’ determination as to how Aiken would be punished. Neither one of them had been eager for such a visit to occur. “Oh?”
Aiken,
frowning, said, “I’m to have Karma assist Michael with the minding of the eggs and, subsequently, the new race.”
“Michael isn’t going to like that very much.” Loki said as he pulled the meat out of the cupboard and threw it on the floor to the dog.
“No.” Aiken shook his head. Karma was responsible for causing quite a lot of mischief through the years that Michael had been forced to correct. Michael made no bones about the fact that he didn’t much care for the girl. “And nor is Karma.” He sighed. “I was just about ready to hand her my crown and retire from my mortality in the Grove. This will delay that eventuality indefinitely.”
“That’s more than likely the point.” Loki replied as he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “To keep you too busy to cause any further mischief.”
“As if it’s stopped me before.” Aiken snorted.
“You really did step out of line this time.” Loki admonished him. Aiken took it in good stride. Loki didn’t give a wit about Aiken’s mischief with the humans and the dragons. He was upset over the fate which had befallen upon Michael.
“I know.” He admitted. He was just as angry over Michael’s lot as Loki was. “Yet, in the end, it served the Kind of Lords’ needs. Didn’t it? These creatures will be a powerful race.”
“I agree.” Loki interrupted him. “But it isn’t your place—or mine—to muck about with the creation of new races.” A strange expression crossed his handsome face. Aiken smiled despite Loki’s displeasure with him. “Speaking of which, Lucias ought to be dropping whatever abomination she’s carrying any day now.”
“Maybe it won’t be—”
“It will.” Loki sighed. He uncrossed his arms and walked to the table, lowering himself into a chair across from Aiken. “She told me that she is specifically not breeding archangels for the Quorum this time.”
Aiken’s brow furrowed at that. “Why not?”
“Because of the way that her sons and daughters of the Quorum are treated.” Loki shrugged. “She doesn’t want Noliminan to have any command over them.” Aiken started at the sound of the King of Lords’ name coming from Loki’s mouth. “If they’re mortals, he cannot interfere with them.”
Aiken grinned in response. “Forced into his own damn trap.”
“I think that was Luci’s intention.” Loki smiled.
“Well then.” Aiken said, raising his glass of juice in Loki’s direction. “Let our betters place our demons where they may on our board.”
-23-
Michael was more than merely angry when the damn mischief fairy showed up at his door. He was furious. He and Karma had a long—and very tumultuous—past.
Nor did she seem any happier to see him. She nearly threw the paper which spelled out her orders from King Noliminan in his face as she sashayed through the door and—unwanted—into Michael’s life.
“At the very least,” He seethed at her, “you shall don some clothes.”
“No.” She snapped at him as her eyes fell upon the angel Michael had selected to assist him. Maxium was one of Adam’s descendants who looked strikingly like Lucias. “I shan’t. I may only be a fairy, but I’m still mortal. So you can’t tell me what to do.”
Michael growled under his breath at that as his eyes danced, as if with their own will, to her full, ripe breasts. They were covered with her long, wavy, dark blue hair, but the nipples of them poked through. Something other of Michael’s danced under its own will, infuriating him.
“I have plans of my own with which this has interfered.” She groused as her eyes flicked, once again, to Maxium before returning to Michael. “I was to marry a desert fairy next cross of the moon. We were to join our tribes by politic.”
“La de da.” Michael snapped at her. “You must feel ever so put out that your rouge father’s politics have been delayed.”
“As a matter of fact.” She rounded on Max. “Stop staring at me!”
“Then don some clothes.” Michael seethed. “You cannot expect to live with two grown men prancing about unclad and not have us stare.”
Her lips pursed. Her blue eyes danced from Michael to Max.
“Fine.” She snapped. “I’ll don a smock. But I shall loathe every minute.”
“Too bad for you.” Michael replied to that. He flicked his eyes to Max again. “Come, Max. Let’s see to the turning of the eggs.”
Max tilted his head to the side, raised his brows and shrugged. “If you insist, my Lord. Although, I’d rather keep the fairy company.”
“She’s not your friend.” Michael growled at him. “Or your pretty.” He looked away from her in irritation and disdain. “So do as I bid and come with me.”
Max, grinning at Karma, gave her a bow. “My Lady.”
“At least one of you has found his manners.” She hissed.
Michael, less than pleased with either of them, let out a guttural growl and stormed out the door.
-24-
Thamores watched with unguarded interest as a falcon flew from the trees and into the sky. His brow furrowed as he slipped his arm out from under Nala’s neck and propped himself up to look in the direction of the forest.
As his gaze landed on a face that should not be standing in a patch of sunlight in the middle of the afternoon, his puzzlement became even more acute.
Slowly, he rose to his feet. As silently as possible, he stepped into the forest and snaked his way around the demon until he stood directly behind him. Only then did he whisper his name.
“Jamiason Scrountentine.”
James jumped and spun around. His blue eyes were wide and wild. As if by instinct, he jumped backward so that he was standing in the shadows, the fact that he had been seen standing in the direct sunlight registering with him at once.
“Thamores. I . . . I must have been sleep walking.”
Thamores’ eyes narrowed. “We’ve known each other for too many cycles of the sun, James. Don’t start lying to me now.” Jamiason lowered his gaze slightly. “How is it that you were standing in the sun?”
“I . . .” He shook his head as he raised his gaze to meet Thamores’. “Tham. You have to understand. I was the first vampire.”
“Which means, eventually, you will be their Emissary God.” Thamores crossed his arms over his chest. “I know that. As will I be for my people. But not until I die my mortal death.” His brow furrowed. “Are you telling me that you already have?”
“I died my mortal death when I lived as a nymph in Aiken’s grove.” He sighed. “As an exile, if I were to die, now, I would cease to be.” Thamores frowned at that sentiment. “You can’t tell anyone, Tham. You have to promise me.”
“You know I won’t betray you.” Thamores was offended by the accusation.
“I do.” Jamiason nodded. “If you give me your word.”
“Fine.” Thamores, not in the mood to play games, narrowed his eyes. “You have my word.”
“I am already a God.” His voice was so low that Thamores could barely hear him. “Evanbourough allowed me at his neck.” He lowered his gaze again. “Without the King of Lords’ accord.”
“Piss on the Gods, James!” Thamores cried. His sudden exclamation startled a flock of birds roosting above them. They all cried out and took wing at the same time, momentarily darkening the sky. “You and Evanbourough will both be expired if—”
“Which is why you can’t say anything.” Jamiason stepped forward and grasped his arm. “He thought he was helping me and I didn’t realize what drinking his blood would do to me.” His brow furrowed slightly. “I’d like to believe that he didn’t either, but he’s a self-serving mouk who always has an agenda.”
“Does anyone else know about this?”
“Paul.” He nodded. “And I’m certain Aiken knows, though he’s never come right out and told me that he does.”
Thamores began violently shaking his head. “Madness.”
“Madness is that you are standing at Iykva’s side, guarding these children.” Jamiason rai
sed his hand and pointed to the rows of tents. “Why would you agree to such a thing?”
“Why would you allow such a thing?” Thamores snapped his response to this question.
“Because I have no choice.” Jamiason answered, his tone flat. “You, however, do.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t. It’s what this pack wants and I’m not yet part of them enough to make unreasonable demands.”
“It’s what the pack wants because a blood bath is coming when the gold moon grows fat.” Jamiason spat. “How do you mean to control them?”
“I don’t . . .” Thamores let out a low sigh that was almost a growl. “I’m uncertain.”
“Then, perhaps, you understand my position.” Jamiason’s tone softened.
“I . . . do.” Thamores reluctantly admitted. “Where were you sending the falcon?”
“To my twins.” Jamiason said, his voice low again. “With a message about what is going on here. I intend to find a way to free these elves before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late.” Thamores groused.
“It’s not.” Jamiason sighed. “I’ve advised my twins to contact a herd of centaurs that owe me a favor. They’re going to be here before the gold moon is fat so that you and your pack can hunt the forest while they protect the elves. Iykva will think I’m protecting his people from your wolves. In truth, the centaurs will work with me to find a way to clean up this damn mess and get these children to whatever is left of their home.”
“This herd can be trusted?” Thamores asked. “To remain on your side and protect the elves rather than join the vampires?”
“Yes.” Jamiason nodded. “They’ve wanted an alliance with the exiled angels for years. Specifically with Raystlyn. But if they can get in good with Wisterian—”
“They’re half way there.” Thamores muttered. “Damn.” He shook his head. “I forgot about Raystlyn’s loyalty to Helena.”
Jamiason pursed his lips over his sharp teeth and nodded. “Hopefully Wisterian has, as well.”
Thamores chuckled under his breath at that. It was a doubtful supposition that Wisterian had forgotten anything of the kind. Helena and Raystlyn’s affair had been a serious scandal as far as the exiled angels were concerned.
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