by Linda Welch
“My name is Gryphon. Lawrence, I am your father.”
“I want you to know,” Gryphon was saying, “I loved your mother. I would be with her still if not for Cicero.”
“She’s dead,” Lawrence said flatly.
“Cicero told me. I still mourn her passing.”
“I don’t want to be High Lord,” Lawrence said, but he did, I saw it in his eyes. He had been trained for the position and trained hard. He expected to rule, and now didn’t know what to make of this man who could take it away from him.
“I am sorry, Lawrence.” Gryphon knew what went through his son’s head. He gripped Lawrence’s shoulder with one hand. “I regret laying this burden on you, but you will bear it. The people have already accepted you.”
Lawrence peered into his father’s eyes, seeking truth there. Apparently he found it; he nodded before taking in a deep breath.
“We cannot let word of what happened here today escape the High House. The Seers are rivals, but who knows, they may ally against us rather than submit,” Gryphon said.
After the shock of Gryphon’s appearance wore off, Lawrence did his best to calm the councilors’ ensuing outbursts, reassuring them the innocent had nothing to fear. They didn’t seem reassured to me. They were terrified. Was Royal right, Cicero replaced the old councilors with his toadies?
Now Lawrence beckoned Royal to his side. “Take them to the east wing. I’ll … my father and I will question them.”
“Lawrence,” I said, “Cicero told me spies infiltrate the Houses. We should keep this close for now.”
Unsurprised, he nodded solemnly, said to Royal, “Use the door behind my chair and don’t let anyone see you.”
“My Lord!” from Gareth. He held his hands before him palm to palm, like a prayer which matched the plea in his eyes.
Lawrence’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Gareth. Go with the others for now.”
As the councilors were herded behind Lawrence’s chair, I saw Imeld’s expression. If looks could kill, I’d be stretched out on the floor. I quashed a shiver.
Two councilors hoisted Cicero between them. He didn’t look in my direction.
Lawrence came to the middle of the room and stood beneath the chandelier. “I have an idea,” he began tentatively. His gaze settled on me.
I winked at him.
His eyes briefly sparkled, but he kept his expression serious and continued in a firmer voice. “We have to take every Seer at the same time so word of what we’re doing doesn’t get out. No warning, we turn up and grab them.”
The High Lord’s persona warred with that of an excited child. “Covert ops! Isn’t that what you call it, Miss Banks?”
“Yeah, covert ops.” I grinned back at him.
“Will five to a team be enough? If they say they’re delivering a message from me, they’ll get a private interview. Can five overpower a Seer?”
“Seers are just men, though they may have tricks up their sleeves, like Cicero’s stun gun. But yes, they can do it.”
“The Seers’ people are loyal, they must not know what we do else they come to his defense,” Darja said.
“Details,” from Gryphon. “Fear not, my son, the Seers will be in your hands before the week is out.”
“Miss Banks?”
I turned to find Lawrence and Gorge behind me.
“Thank you, again.” With a grin, his eyes flicked to Gorge, back to me. “After all you’ve done for me, now you bring Gorge home, and… .” His gaze darted back, over his shoulder to where Gryphon spoke to Royal. “I’m glad to see Ryel. I messaged him and he replied he’d investigate Orcus, but that’s the last I heard from him. I wanted to warn you when you came here, but I didn’t have time to write much. I knew you’d find help, but I never dreamed it would be my father.”
“It was a coincidence.” Huh, as if I believed that. Gia led me every step of the way. I would tear the world apart for Rio, would you do the same for Royal? I did not tear a world apart, but I set it on its ear.
Lawrence lowered his voice, said in a confidential tone, “I believe the Cousins are controlling the Seers, or working with them.”
I wished I could tell him the truth. “What makes you think that?”
“They’ve always helped us, guided us. Something turned them against us. If not the Cousins, who?”
“They don’t work for your benefit, Lawrence; haven’t for a long time. Will you believe me when I say you’re wrong? The Seers acted alone.”
“I don’t know, Miss Banks. We banished the Cousins but we’ve let them use the Ways a few times when there was a good reason, like when they went to Russia with you and Ryel because that man was killing my people and theirs.” He paused, went on with a faint flush on his bronzed complexion, “And I wanted to see what they looked like.”
I grinned at the memory of Lawrence’s snooty reception; it certainly put Gia in a snit. “You were rather rude to them, Lawrence.”
“I know. They didn’t look like anything special. I thought the stories were exaggerated, till Shan came. If he came here without permission, what’s to stop them coming and going as they please? Maybe they do it all the time. They could be here right now and we wouldn’t know.”
I tried to smile again but my mouth refused to cooperate. I tried to come up with a reasonable argument, but said, “Don’t worry about it, Lawrence.”
“I have to, Miss Banks. I’m the High Lord.”
The conversation made me uncomfortable and I had a hard time meeting his eyes, so I let my gaze drift across the room. Gryphon watched Lawrence from where he stood near the door.
“He says he’ll abdicate the Seat,” Lawrence said.
“How do you feel about that?”
“I want to rule, but it’s his, isn’t it.”
“Not if he doesn’t want it.”
“Perhaps he should. I’m … I’m only a boy.”
But he wasn’t only a boy. He possessed innate power when he chose to wield it. I grasped his shoulders and gazed into his shining brown eyes. “You were meant to be High Lord. It’s your destiny. Your father doesn’t want it, but he gave your people a worthy successor. He gave them you, Lawrence. Your councilors, your father, are here for you. You’re in good hands now.”
He pushed his shoulders up, gave me a measuring look. “I think I am.”
As I dropped my hands, he grabbed my right and turned it palm up to reveal the button. The High Lord’s burden seemed to lift from his shoulders and a child with ardent, sparkling eyes smiled at me. “Can I try it?”
“Sure.”
He pressed the button; the flame rose about me. Lawrence laughed; his fingers came through the flickering blue-white flames to brush my shoulder.
“This is what frightened us, illusion?” Darja said.
“Can I put it on? Will it fit me?” from Lawrence.
I smiled. “We can make it fit. But you’ll have to excuse me while I find somewhere private to take the damned contraption off.”
I turned my hand and held his. “Lawrence, about the Dark Cousins. Don’t believe everything you read.” I remembered what Gia said. “History can be rewritten.”
But as Royal and I left the Council Chamber, I looked back at Lawrence, pierced by a qualm. I heard Chris say, “She has an ulterior motive.” I saw Gia’s expression as she gazed at the abandoned city. She lied so easily to get what she wanted. The ancient, devious Mothers had all the time in the world to scheme and see their plots reach fruition. Was the Seers’ downfall one tiny facet of a far-reaching plan?
Royal and I walked over the grass away from the High House, taking the same route we used the first time he brought me to Bel-Athaer. He said we could do the speed-demon thing in a moment as we were unlikely to run into anyone in this direction.
“Can we go to your apartment? We should talk, and I don’t want to with Mel and Jack listening.”
“Of course.”
Why didn’t he at least hold my hand? Apart from whisking me here
, he had not touched me since our boisterous reunion in the cavern.
“I told Lawrence he’s safe now. Is he?”
He walked beside me, hands limp at his sides. “I don’t know, Tiff. We stirred the hornet’s nest. Our people may bow to the High Lord, but not all will believe him. The Seers held positions of trust. We relied on them. You can’t wrench that out from under and not expect strife.”
I nodded glumly. “I know.” I slid my gaze at him. “Have I made things worse?”
“Don’t be an idiot. And stop taking it all on your shoulders. You were not the only player.” He stopped, faced me. “Are you ready?”
He had to hold me now. I joined my hands behind his neck, breathing in his spicy sandalwood and amber scent. I smiled into his face.
He didn’t smile back.
“Royal, what is - oof!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I thought we’d be under Royal’s sheets by now. We sat in the office with the desk between us, where he steered us when he saw the mess in his kitchen and smelled the odor.
Apparently Chris did not figure out how to use the dishwasher.
I hadn’t had time alone with Royal to speak of what Cicero said to me. Now I sat quietly as he told me what I already knew.
When he finished, and sat facing me, lips compressed in a tight line, I said, “You were wrong, you should have told me. Every person has the right to decide their destiny. But I understand, I do. You thought I was a half-breed.”
“Half-blood.”
“Same difference. My life is complicated as it is, you didn’t want to pile that on my shoulders too.”
Why did I feel as if I hammered a brick wall with my skull? He didn’t believe me. Not surprisingly, he thought I’d be furious. I can’t say I was happy about what he did, and didn’t do, yet I understood his motives when I looked at it from his perspective. And maybe I’ve outgrown young Tiff, her fears, insecurity, anger and distrust. Everyone has to grow up eventually.
“I do understand.”
“Do you? Because I feel monumentally craven.”
“Why?”
“At first, I believed it was for your own good, but I said nothing as time passed because I dreaded losing you.”
Aw. “We’re not clichés in a romance novel, Royal.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If we were, I’d be saying, ‘oh no, he deceived me, it was all a lie, he never loved me!’”
I waited. No response. “You’re supposed to say it wasn’t a lie,” I said dryly.
Eyes narrowed, brow creased with remembered pain, he said fiercely, “Tiff, when I left you that night, I knew what humans mean when they say their heart is breaking.”
He held my gaze, sucking me into his polished copper eyes. He swallowed hard. “You are so much more than I imagined. You spoke of destiny. You cannot fulfill yours in this world.”
Something painful welled in my throat. “What do you mean?”
He picked up a ballpoint pen and clicked the end. “Lawrence wants you on his Council.”
I pushed up to hunch over the desk. “When did this happen? He didn’t say anything to me.”
“He asked me to tell you and help you get your affairs in order before you leave.”
I leaned back in the chair, cocked my ankle over the other knee. “You mean go live in Bel-Athaer? That ain’t gonna happen.”
“Please consider carefully, Tiff.” Click. “Cicero was a wealthy man: property, investments, etcetera, as well as a good chunk of hard cash. Lawrence stripped him of the lot, it belongs to you now. In addition, you have the High Lord’s favor. You can have power, influence. You can do so much for Bel-Athaer.”
I didn’t ask if he wanted me to go. His eyes and posture told me otherwise. How can eyes say so much? Longing, despair, regret. Love. He sat so tense, the sinews in his neck and backs of his clenched hands stood out and that muscle in his jaw jumped so fast I wanted to kiss it better.
“Bel-Athaer needs you and you will give up an incredible opportunity if you stay here.”
I eyed him carefully. “You’d be with me, right?”
“No doubt we would see each other on occasion, when I came to the High House on business,” he said stiffly.
“If I accept the offer, I virtually end our relationship.”
“You would be so far above me, I would not see you for the clouds.”
How stinking poetical.
Damn demon and his damn sense of duty. I wanted to grab him and kiss him so thoroughly he couldn’t breathe. He felt duty bound to tell me I should work for Lawrence, to stress it was in my best interests to accept a position of power, to claim my so-called birthright - birthright? What a joke - but did he want me to? No. Royal believes in the greater good, be it taking me to the execution of a mortally wounded woman before her time so she tells her secrets, or risking the woman he loves leaving him.
To try and talk me out of leaving because he didn’t want to lose me would, to his way of thinking, be selfish because he did want the best for me. He would give me up if I’d be happier and more fulfilled elsewhere. I couldn’t get mad and brush that aside as if it meant nothing.
So I decided to be gentle with him. I pushed up from the chair and went around the desk. Sliding my behind along the desktop, I sat on the edge with my legs between his knees. “It’s up to me, huh?”
He glanced away, hand toying with the pen. “I’m sorry.”
I bent over him. “Sometimes your head is so far up your ass.” Smiled as his eyes shot back to me. “Now listen up and listen good. I know who I am. I’m a homegrown, small-town, all-American girl who carries a gun and happens to see dead people. I’m right where I want to be. I’m not going anywhere. You have a problem with that?”
He opened his mouth; I covered it with my palm, then leaned down and replaced it with my lips. I put everything I had into that kiss. His lips softened on mine.
I pulled back and gasped in air. “I repeat, do you have a problem with that?”
His body had relaxed, his hands unclenched. “No, none at all.” Eyes dark, he stared into mine as if he tried to penetrate my soul.
He cupped my cheek with one big, warm palm. “I missed you so much.”
I leaned in again until my breath played over his lips. “Prove it.”
I saw the wicked glint I’d missed terribly, the look which made my blood sing. He pulled me onto his lap so my legs straddled his thighs.
He nuzzled my neck. “I missed you in every way imaginable.”
I wriggled. “Mm, I can tell.”
He concentrated on unbuttoning my shirt. Remembering past times, I felt relieved he didn’t rip it off.
I wriggled again, then settled into a leisurely sway. Oh my. I seemed to have forgotten how to breathe properly.
He held my waist and put me on my feet. I pouted. He chuckled. Pouting is not one of my skills.
Taking our time, we undressed each other, hands drifting over skin as it was bared. The thick column of his neck, his shoulders, his mounded chest and pebbled nipples, the long lines of bones upholstered in flesh and muscle. The curve of his buttocks and thighs as I eased his jeans down. I tasted him, the spiced honey of his skin. I tangled my hands in his heavy hair as he held me under my buttocks and lifted me off my feet.
My legs circled his waist, he throbbed against me.
He took us down to the carpet.
“Ah, this is why you had a thick-pile carpet installed in an office,” I murmured.
I showed Royal how much I’d missed him. He showed me how much he missed me. Then he showed me again, and again.
In the circle of his arms, limp as an overcooked noodle, I looked through my lashes at sparkling copper orbs.
He smiled like the Cheshire Cat and purred, “My turn.”
Still in a sweet, lethargic daze, I stopped at the bottom of the staircase and looked up at our office window.
“Want a ride, Sweetness?”
I jerked around. I had not
noticed Chris Plowman sitting on his Harley outside Bailey and Cognac’s door.
I glanced at the window again. No sign of Royal, but I bet he knew a demon stood in the street below his apartment.
“Nah. I’ll walk.”
“You’ll walk all the way home rather than ride with me?” He clasped his hands over his heart. “I am crushed.”
“My car’s two blocks away.”
He made beetle brows. “I’ll settle for two blocks with your arms about me.”
“Are you heading back to Boston?”
“You’re trying to sidetrack me.”
“So you’re not heading back to Boston?”
“I’m thinking of selling up and returning to England.” He tilted his head. “As old as Boston is, it still lacks a certain … je ne sais quoi. The time has come to return to my roots.”
I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand to smother a snort.
Despite the possibility I may have wiped something nasty on the back of my hand, Chris took it and pressed his lips to my skin, eying me from under his lashes. “If you desire a more passionate wooing than Royal can provide, lift your voice to the stars and call my name.”
I opened my mouth to debate the suggestion he could outdo Royal in the passionate wooing department, then decided keeping it closed was prudent.
His expression became introspective, serious, yet he said nothing more. I realized he waited for me to ask the obvious question, so I did.
“You could have told me.”
His lips hiked on one side; he snorted softly through his nose. “No, I couldn’t.”
“She put a geis on you?”
“She promised to, if I wasn’t a good little boy.”
I let it go at that. Perhaps, without his free will, Chris would not have been able to help me as much as he did.
After nuzzling my hand again, he gave me a soulful, heartbroken look. “I will dream of you.”
I watched him drive down the road and out of sight, shimmering gray and ebony hair a streaming banner.
Why did I think this was not the last I’d see of Christopher Plowman?
I paid Janie and waited in the outer office while she retrieved Mac. He limped on his front right foot when she brought him in on a leash.