“Then we’ll see it done,” Con said in a low tone.
Rhys nodded and called back the shadows. Dennis and Kyle had had their clothes ripped, flesh shredded. They were lying on the ground, barely moving. But they were alive.
In the next instant, Con leapt into the air, shifting into a gold dragon. Rhys didn’t wait to see what the Kings would do to the mortals. It was enough that they would die.
He started walking when Rhi fell into step beside him. As he left, the terror-filled screams of Dennis and Kyle reached him.
The smile on Rhys’s face held not a shred of happiness.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Ulrik swirled the whisky in his glass as he sat on the sofa in his uncle’s office. Ulrik had no illusions that this was Mikkel’s only home. His uncle was too cautious to show Ulrik where he lived.
The light reflected off the amber liquid in the crystal cup. Mikkel poured it from a decanter, but after one taste, Ulrik knew it was Dreagan. He wondered if his uncle would admit he bought Dreagan whisky.
“Do you intend to continue to make the whisky once you take over?” Ulrik asked.
Mikkel looked up from his papers. “Of course not. There won’t be humans to drink it, and we’ll be in dragon form. Why do you care?”
“It’s fine whisky,” Ulrik said before taking a drink.
Mikkel studied Ulrik for a moment. “Whisky is whisky.”
“Is that what you tell yourself when you pour Dreagan out of the bottle into your decanter? Hate them or no’, the Kings know how to make excellent Scotch.”
Mikkel tossed down his pen as one of his phones rang. “I demand the best of everything. I have no idea what my staff buys.”
“Liar,” Ulrik whispered and took another swallow.
He watched as Mikkel chose one of the six mobile phones lined up neatly on his desk. Six. Why six? What was the need for so many?
The few hours Ulrik had been with Mikkel, each of those phones had rung at least once. Mikkel wasn’t keen on Ulrik hearing any of the conversations, so he would walk out onto his patio to take the call.
As if that stopped Ulrik from hearing. Mikkel might have been a Dragon King for all of a few minutes, but even he should know the heightened senses it gave them in human form. Then again, Mikkel was entirely too confident of his abilities.
Ulrik finished his whisky and rose to pour himself more. He waited until Mikkel ended the call and was once more seated at his desk before he said, “I’d consider the fact your two men failed in retrieving the weapon from Dreagan a great disappointment.”
Mikkel’s gold eyes narrowed into slits. “Eavesdropping now?”
“If you didna want me to hear the conversations, then you shouldna have asked me to remain.” It would take more than a pane of glass to prevent Ulrik from hearing, but his uncle didn’t need to know that.
Mikkel leaned back in his chair and slowly replaced the mobile phone with the others. “I was going to tell you anyway.”
“Were you?” Ulrik put the stopper in the decanter and picked up his glass. “So your big move was to go after the weapon. You thought two humans on sixty thousand acres could find it when the Dark couldna? I also doona think the Dark Ones will be happy when they find out you made a play for the weapon yourself.”
Mikkel waved away his words. “I’ve already explained to them why I was going after it. They believe me.”
“Ah. But does Balladyn?”
“That cretin?” Mikkel asked, scorn lacing his words. “I don’t know what Taraeth sees in him.”
“Balladyn is a great warrior. You shouldna provoke him.”
“He provokes me.”
Ulrik sat back down and lay one arm along the back of the sofa. “Balladyn will rule after Taraeth. You might want to consider that.”
“So. Abby was right,” Mikkel said with a smile. “You are watching the Dark Fae.”
He was doing much more than watching. “I observe everyone.”
“Except me.” Mikkel chuckled, his smug look directed at Ulrik. “With all your watching of the players, you missed me. If you missed me, what else have you overlooked?”
Ulrik wasn’t interested in talking about himself. “The Kings will be coming for me now that they think I’m running things.”
“Yes, they will.”
“I’ve taken care of them in the past. I’ll do it again.”
The slight frown on Mikkel’s face was the only hint Ulrik had that something was off before his uncle said, “Actually, I believe Rhys will come to kill you.”
“Con willna let him. Con wants that pleasure himself.”
“Ah, well there’s the rub of it.” Mikkel sat up and gave Ulrik an innocent look. “You see, one of my men killed Rhys’s mate.”
Ulrik paused with his glass at his lips. He lowered it slowly at the news. Rhys. With a mate? Now that was surprising. “If she’s Rhys’s mate, she can no’ die.”
“She can if they haven’t performed the ceremony.”