“Perhaps not now. But with the Pythia under your control—”
“She is under the Senate’s control.” He paused. “More or less.”
“She is under your control, Mircea,” Marlowe insisted. “Her loyalty is to you. She is suspicious of the consul—”
“With reason. That stunt with Tomas was ill-conceived. I warned her as much at the time.”
“You suggested using him!”
“Using, not abusing, Kit. I never suggested butchering the man! That backfired, as anyone who knows Cassie’s temperament should have expected.”
“But we do not know it. You do. And you were strong enough before. Now, you have control of the Pythia as well as Louis-Cesare’s loyalty through his attachment to Dorina—”
“And how did she find out about that? What did you tell her, Kit?”
“Only what she asked. She’d already heard as much from Anthony. He thinks it’s the best joke this century.”
“Anthony is not you! You could have denied it.”
“I could have betrayed my duty, you mean, in order to save this—”
“Careful.”
“Mircea, what the hell is wrong with you? I’m beginning to think that damned geis addled your brain!”
“Or cleared it.”
I lay utterly still, content to let them believe I was more or less out of it. Which wasn’t far from the truth. Between the general oppressiveness of the house and the consul’s idea of a good time, I was a little under the weather. The room kept shimmying like a belly dancer every time I opened my eyes, so I mostly didn’t.
I didn’t understand a lot of the conversation, but the basic idea came across. Mircea was growing powerful enough that the consul was starting to worry about him. And given the way she handled problems, I didn’t think that was too healthy.
Apparently, Mircea didn’t, either. “She truly thinks I would move against her?”
“She wonders if one with so much power will be content to serve for the rest of his life,” Marlowe said.
“I am content to live, Kit. Perhaps it is something you have forgotten how to do.”
“You are making no sense.” Marlowe sounded confused and resentful. “You do realize that?”
“Then tell your Lady this. The love of power destroyed my family once; I do not wish to see history repeat itself. I will serve her loyally until such a time as she moves against those I consider mine.”
“You want me to give an ultimatum to the consul?”
“No. Merely to request a concession. For an old and trusted ally.”
“There are those who would serve her without such concessions.”
“Yes. Sycophants are always easy to find. They are also easily swayed by the next power who promises them more. How many offers have I turned down to stay with her?” Mircea asked, suddenly angry. “Why this? Why now?”
“It’s Anthony,” Marlowe admitted, “at least in part. He has been whispering in her ear since he arrived, warning her that Louis-Cesare would add too much to your personal power base.”
“She must surely see why!”
“Of course, but his words reinforced her own concerns. This was . . . a test.”
“An unnecessary one.”
“Was it?” Marlowe’s dark eyes were serious. “You chose family over the needs of the Senate. Over her.”
“This would not have helped either, as I believe I made clear.”
“And now another member of your family has gone rogue. He must be brought in, Mircea. She cannot allow such a direct challenge to her authority to stand.”
“I am not hiding the man in my closet, Kit! I know no more of his whereabouts than you do.”
“And if you did?”
Mircea met his eyes steadily. “I abandoned a member of my family once, long ago. I swore then never to repeat the error.”
“Then I trust you are prepared for the consequences!” Marlowe snapped, and stormed out. The reporters tried to squeeze through the open door, but a nudge of power slammed it in their faces. I heard someone yelp.
“You can almost see the consul’s hand up Marlowe’s ass,” I said, blinking my eyes open. The room trembled a little at the corners, but it was better than it had been a minute ago. I decided that was good enough, and sat up.
“It may seem that way,” Mircea said, rising and crossing to the small bar in the corner. “In reality, it is more that they think alike and always have done.”
“You know he’s going off to report to her right now.”
“I doubt that will be necessary,” Mircea said wryly. “There are few rooms, if any, in this house that I would consider truly private.”
I assumed that was a warning, although I didn’t have any deep, dark secrets to spill. And if I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t be talking about them here. “He’s right, though. Risking yourself for me wasn’t smart.”
Mircea poured something that I really hoped was whiskey into a couple of glasses. “When one serves such a mistress, occasionally it is useful to make a show of force,” he said, handing me one. “Otherwise, she may forget which among her servants are courtiers and which are ciphers.”