“You think that’s what this is?”
“I know that’s what it is! My mother was a Romanian peasant girl, and my father—” I stopped, because holy shit. Mircea was going to be . . . well, ‘pissed’ didn’t really cover it. Not only did he have a family obsession that this was going to fly straight in the face of, but he also needed me on the Senate right now. And needed badly, or he’d have never persuaded the consul to look at a damned dhampir every meeting.
“Vampires can do that?” Claire said, her forehead wrinkling. “Just mentally ride along with someone? Because I’ve never heard—”
“Neither have I.”
Caedmon had slipped through the door while we weren’t looking, a massive pink bouquet in his hands. He laid it in my arms like I was some beauty pageant contestant about to be crowned, which would have been funny except that Louis-Cesare was on his heels. At least, he was until he grabbed the king of the fey and slammed him against the wall.
“You’re not taking her!”
I dropped everything—literally: the full stein splattered its contents everywhere and went rolling across the boards, and the flowers littered the hall. But I got in between the guys before a blow landed. “Not here!”
“Damned right!” That was Claire. “What are you playing at, Caedmon?”
“Playing?” A blond eyebrow ascended. “I assure you, I am perfectly serious. The law clearly states that we are allowed to claim anyone with fey blood—”
“I don’t have fey blood,” I said.
“I can assure you that you do.”
“And I can assure you, I don’t! I’ll take a test, if you like—”
“You already did.”
“Funny, I don’t recall it.”
“Really? I thought it was memorable.”
“Start making sense!” Louis-Cesare snarled, and Claire nodded. I blinked. Because seeing the two of them agree on something was . . . kind of creepy.
“It’s quite simple,” Caedmon said, taking his time, and adjusting his wrinkled tunic. “We have a treaty with your Senate—with all of them, for that matter. As you know, our birthrate is very low. We cannot afford to lose anyone of our blood, particularly one with such a rare gift—”
“We know all that!” Claire broke in. “But Dory just told you—she isn’t fey!”
“And she would know?” Caedmon looked at me. “You know who your mother was, but what about your grandmother? Your great-grandmother? Your great-grandfather? How well do you know your bloodline?”
“My mother was a peasant girl,” I reminded him. “They didn’t keep records back then. Most of them couldn’t even read.”
“Exactly so.” He sounded like he’d just proved something.
It pissed me off. “It doesn’t matter! I’ve told you, it’s a vampire skill. I get it from my father—”
“What is?” Louis-Cesare asked.
“I doubt that,” Caedmon murmured.
“Dory?”
“Something happened the other night,” I told Louis-Cesare. “It’s . . . complicated.”
“Complicated? How complicated?”
“Merely a manlikan army attacking the house, and then an assault by an especially strong vargr,” Caedmon said, before I could stop him. “Don’t worry; we don’t expect you to know what that means,” he added.
Because I guess Louis-Cesare’s face wasn’t red enough already.
“Give me a damned blood test, and end this!” I said, because I needed to talk to my boyfriend. Like, now.
“You are dhampir,” Caedmon said. “Irrevocably changed in the womb by your father’s . . . condition . . . from what you would have been. There are no blood tests that can see through that.”
“So much for talk of treaties!” Louis-Cesare snapped.
Claire nodded vigorously.
“—fortunately, we don’t need one,” Caedmon continued smoothly. “Such tests can be inconclusive for a variety of reasons, which is why the treaty clearly states that there are other acceptable proofs. Such as demonstrating clear evidence of fey magic.” His eyes caught mine, and there was steel in them. “Which you most definitely did.”
Okay, shit.
“She belongs here!” Louis-Cesare said, pushing against the hand I had on his chest, in an attempt to get in the king’s face.
“She belongs with her people,” Caedmon said serenely.
“She belongs wherever the hell she wants to be!” Claire said. “And if you two start a fight in my hall, I swear—”
“She’s right. The kids are here,” I reminded them. Because I’d just caught sight of Aiden, wobbling about on unsteady baby legs, among the tall creatures on the porch. Until one of them picked him up and gave him a sip of beer, which made his face wrinkle and his small fists flail around, and the fey burst into laughter. And miss his companion, who was still on the ground with his nonexistent nose pressed against the screen door.
Until he was suddenly inside, and launching himself at Caedmon.
I grabbed Stinky before actual blood was spilled, not that it helped. Because Louis-Cesare’s hand was on his sword, Caedmon’s was on his, and both men looked like a battle was brewing just below the surface. And not far below, because I could feel Louis-Cesare’s arm flex when I grabbed it.
He wanted a fight, and the king seemed more than willing to oblige—why, I didn’t know. He had to realize how this was going to play with Mircea and the rest of the Senate. It was seriously ironic that they were being put in a position to defend a dirty dhampir, but they had done worse in their long lives. And when the choice was between distasteful and dangerous, they’d go for the former every time. And right now, an unbalanced Senate was way more of a danger than a pissed-off fey king.
Caedmon had a fight on his hands.
Yet, despite that, and despite the fact that he had Soini and probably other vargrs—since I couldn’t see him risking his only one in the wilds of Earth otherwise—he was still pushing this. And still looking at Louis-Cesare like he was one of the main obstacles to his carting me off to Faerie. Which might have been reasonable in the mind of someone as old and traditional as Caedmon, but which made my blood boil.
Time for him to enter the twenty-first century.
“He isn’t my guardian,” I told Caedmon flatly. “I came of age a long time ago. You have anything to say, you say it to me.”
“I just did,” the king pointed out, but he was still looking at Louis-Cesare. Until I twisted a hand in his shirt, almost tight enough to strangle him. The stunning green eyes shifted to me, and a beautiful smile broke over the face, almost luminous in its intensity. “And would have when I first returned, but didn’t wish to interrupt your talk with young Ymsi. How is he?”
“Fine,” I said shortly. “He thinks it was a woman—a Light Fey woman—who attacked him.”
“I knew it!” Claire looked daggers at her father-in-law. “I told you—”
“Yes, yes.” Caedmon frowned slightly. Because while enraged master vampires didn’t seem to faze him, his red-haired daughter-in-law was another matter. And if Claire had been pissed before, it was nothing compared to this. Suspicion was one thing; confirmation was quite another. And while this wasn’t actual proof of Efridis’ involvement, I didn’t expect Claire to understand that.
Apparently, Caedmon didn’t, either, at least not without some work. “We need to discuss it, at a later time—”
“We’ll discuss it now!” Claire snapped, as I released him. Because the man had bigger problems. “I want—”
“I know what you want. But as I’ve told you repeatedly, it’s not that simple—”
“Did you even see her?”
“Yes, I—”
“See her?” I asked.
Caedmon glanced at me. “My sister is currently a guest of your consul—”
Great.
“—and she denies any involvement—”
“Of course she denies it!” Claire said. “Did you expect her to just admit it?”
“Possibly, yes.” Caedmon began to look impatient as Claire glared at him. “You lived at court long enough to know better than this. My sister is not only Blarestri royalty; she is the queen of another powerful court—”