Death's Mistress (Dorina Basarab, #2)

“You took a hell of a risk for a reminder.”


Mircea joined me with his own drink. The sofa was right across from the dead guy; it almost looked like the three of us were having a quiet drink together. Very quiet, on his part.

“It would not have been, under normal circumstances,” he said. “She would not expect me to turn over a high-ranking family member to be slaughtered for a crime he did not commit.”

“It sounded to me like that’s exactly what she expects.”

“She is frightened. And when someone holds that much power, their fear can be dangerous. That is why I want you out of this, Dorina. There are creatures involved in this from whom I cannot protect you.”

I bit my lip on the knee-jerk retort that I didn’t need protection. Normally, it was true. But there weren’t too many things on Earth who could go up against the consul when she was in a mood. Not and live, anyway.

Which made me wonder why Mircea had done it.

I almost asked, but something stopped me. Probably the same thing that kept me from asking him about the vision I’d seen, about the mother I couldn’t remember. I wanted to know, and I didn’t. As long as I didn’t bring it up, didn’t mention it, that brief glimpse of her remained real and vivid in my memory, something I’d never had before. But if I caught him in a lie, if I found out that this was nothing more than another ploy to get me to do what he wanted, I’d lose it. I’d lose her.

Just like, if I probed too deeply into this new attitude of Mircea’s, I might find that it masked the same old schemes. Was this sudden concern because Louis-Cesare had shown some interest in me? Was it merely what Marlowe had said—a way to bind a powerful ally more closely? If so, I’d have thought that Mircea would be more encouraging of a relationship, instead of all but warning me off. Unless he thought that’s what I would think, in which case—

Damn it. I realized that I wanted it to be real, all of it, wanted him to have cared about her, wanted him to care about me. And I was so very afraid that he didn’t. It was easier not to ask, to let the possibility last a little longer, even if it meant not learning anything else.

God, I could be such a coward sometimes.

“You think the consul is afraid of you?” I asked instead.

“Perhaps, in part. It is a balancing act with which every sovereign has to deal; the more powerful a courtier, the more useful, but also the more dangerous. No one can sustain herself in authority by relying solely on yes men, but gather too many powerful, ambitious courtiers around ...”

“And one day, one of them will replace you.”

It was strange, but I had never really thought about just how much power Mircea had. All senators seemed impossibly godlike, up there in the clouds somewhere, making decisions for us poor mortals. And compared to the vamp on the street, they were. But in fact, senators varied a lot in personal power and in the alliances each house was able to call on in an emergency.

And Mircea had always been very good at making alliances.

“I am not that one,” he said firmly. “Occasionally she needs to hear that.”

“And the other part?”

“The current situation has us all on edge. I cannot recall another time when so much has been in flux all at once. Anthony’s court, possibly about to face numerous challenges; Alejandro’s, weakened by years of misrule and neglect, about to topple; and our own Senate, devastated by the war, about to be rebuilt.”

“It might be rebuilt better.” I could certainly see room for improvement.

“Perhaps. But one thing is sure: it will be different. Loyalties will be tested. Age-old alliances will have to woo new members or they will not survive. And change is not something our people face with equanimity.”

“Hence the freak-out.”

“Yes.” There was a knock on the door, and a servant discreetly looked in. “The Circle is here,” Mircea said, rising. He looked at me, and his face went completely blank. “I meant to send this to you today,” he said, taking something out of his coat. “I cannot give you back your memories, Dorina. I can but give you mine.”

I didn’t understand that cryptic phrase, and had no time to ask him about it before the Circle’s people burst into the room and deluged him.

I found myself out in the hall, after getting elbowed out of the room by hungry journalists. It looked like the Circle had brought some of their own, along with medics—too late—and a couple old guys in suits.

Karen Chance's books