Pirate's Alley

Somehow that didn’t make me as happy as I would’ve expected. The elves were brutal. I’d seen what they did to Rand after he’d helped me escape Elfheim. He’d been beaten, and badly. The only reason he didn’t get another punishment for bonding with me was that our alliance, and his mother’s death, had made him too powerful. I had no doubts he could dish out suffering as well as the next elf.

 

While Hoffman examined the photographs, I looked over at Jean to see how he was taking the news about Lily, but his attention rested with one person only: Etienne Boulard. They’d been friends in their human lives, before Jean had become so famous he earned a magical form of immortality, and Etienne, a French Louisiana plantation owner, had become a Regent of the Realm of Vampyre. Etienne had betrayed Jean, and they both knew it.

 

Much like the question of whether or not I’d continue an elven pregnancy should I find myself in that predicament, I had no answers to the question of whether I’d stop Jean if and when he tried to exact revenge on Etienne. That had a much greater likelihood of happening than me getting pregnant with elf spawn. Jean didn’t forgive a betrayal, plus he had a couple of major advantages. He couldn’t be turned vampire and he couldn’t be killed, at least not permanently.

 

I didn’t like Etienne’s odds.

 

From the vamp-in-dawn’s-early-light look on his face, Etienne didn’t like his odds either. He fidgeted in his seat and looked everywhere except at Jean. His gaze came to rest on me briefly, and I saw a flash of the insolent, confident vampire he’d been a month ago. Only a flash before he looked down at the floor.

 

“Very well.” Hoffman passed the envelope back to Mace. “In future, however, I hope the elves will abide by the procedures we’ve established for the council.”

 

“In future”—Mace looked at Rand—“we’ll have no more such treachery within our ranks.”

 

Rand was starting to look a lot like the Mona Lisa. I never trusted her little smile, and if Mace had any sense he wouldn’t trust Rand’s. I had no idea what my significant elf was up to, but I had no doubt that Rand had a scheme. He always did.

 

Then again, Mace deserved whatever he got.

 

“Ms. Jaco.” Hoffman slipped on a pair of reading glasses, probably to give him a more scholarly appearance to go along with his silly black robe. Nearsighted wizards used magic to correct their vision. “Is it true that you conspired to interfere with the affairs of the Elven Synod during the last two weeks of November?”

 

“Uh … no?” I hoped that little question mark at the end wasn’t evident to anyone but me. I expected Hoffman to accuse me of setting up Adrian, not interfering with Synod business. Where was he going with this?

 

He peered at me through his little glasses, which gave him a piggish appearance.

 

“Does that mean you deny entering into a blood bond with Quince Randolph, who at that time was the incumbent clan leader of the fire elves? And that the nature of this bond was purely for Mr. Randolph’s political gain?”

 

Rand’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything. This was Mace Banyan’s work; he hadn’t wanted Rand on the Synod, much less sitting on the Interspecies Council. Rand had gotten the council seat because our bond gave him an in with the wizards.

 

I gave Mace my most evil stink-eye. “I wouldn’t say it was purely political, no.”

 

Hoffman took off the glasses and settled them atop his shiny bald head. Now he looked like a pig with glasses on his head. “You’re telling me that you and Mr. Randolph are living as husband and wife, as such bond-mates are called in our culture?”

 

He smiled. Evil bastard.

 

Damn it. Everyone knew Rand and I weren’t living together, but if I admitted that I only bonded with him to avoid turning loup-garou, Jake would be in big trouble. That wasn’t going to happen.

 

“Mr. Randolph and I are working on our relationship after entering the bond based on our intense physic”—I choked and grabbed the bottle of water on the table, wishing it were rum—“physical attraction.”

 

Behind me, Alex coughed, or maybe it was Jake. I didn’t dare look. I kept my eyes on Hoffman.

 

“I see.” He paused and rolled his eyes heavenward. Pig pig pig.

 

“Is it true you refused to cooperate with the Synod when they attempted to determine your powers after you were claimed by the ancient elven staff known as Mahout?”

 

“Hey, they kidnapped me.” This was starting to piss me off. I was not the one sitting over there bound in magical ankle bling after being caught with the proverbial smoking gun.

 

“And is it not true, Ms. Jaco, that it was you who killed Captain Jean Lafitte last month?” He looked down the table at Jean. “Kill being a relative term, of course.”

 

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