Oh, brother. Only Jean could pull a monstrous scam on the entire Interspecies Council and then demand an apology because they’d suspected him.
Of course, he got it. Zrakovi had no recourse but to apologize even though frown lines rutted his face. The shifter standing behind him looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or weep. I was with Alex on that one.
They might yet catch Jean Lafitte doing something worthy of tossing him off the council or into a prison cell, but it would not be today.
I was a happy camper, at least for a few seconds.
Zrakovi flipped one folder closed in front of him, slid it aside, and opened another. I shot a sidelong glance at Rand. Time for act two.
“Now, I fear, we must address a rather sensitive issue—”
“Elder Zrakovi, might I say something? I promise to keep it brief, but it’s important.” Rand stood up, my annoying Russian snow prince with his gleaming blond hair and pale blue sweater and winter-white trousers, his eyes an impossibly rich shade of blue, his arrogance and petulance often heavy enough to sink a ship. I hoped he could keep it afloat, at least long enough to save Eugenie a lot of misery.
From across the room, I sensed Zrakovi’s blood pressure rising. The man was going to have a stroke if this meeting didn’t end soon. “Can’t it wait, Mr. Randolph?”
“Please, I promise to keep it short—it’s just a quick thank-you, really, and you’re the one I wish to thank.”
Elder Z’s blood pressure ticked up another few notches, and he developed a slight twitch in his left eye. “Oh, very well.”
Behind him, Alex wasn’t looking at Rand. He was still looking at me, eyes narrowed. I gave him what I hoped was an innocent shrug.
“I am so honored to be a part of this group that I wanted to share some happy news,” Rand said, oozing sincerity so thick I was glad I had on boots with a decent heel. “In about six months, I will become a father for the first time. It’s a cause for celebration, although I regret to say my son’s mother is only a human and was certainly not the person I’d hoped would bear my first child, which would be my mate, Dru, the New Orleans sentinel.”
I glared at Rand. That long, run-on speech was so not part of the script, and so help me if he as much as thought my name again I would create a potion to encase him in ice until hell froze over.
“However,” he continued, ignoring me, “I want to publicly thank Elder Zrakovi—I have no doubt the permanent First Elder position will be yours very soon—for your unwavering support and personal assurance that no harm will befall my son because of any political differences.”
The silence swelled to fill the room. Rand’s performance was Oscar-worthy. “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for that personal promise to protect my child. It only strengthens our alliance between wizards and elves, and proves what a man of character you are.”
Rand sat down. What could Zrakovi do? We’d backed him into a very tight, very public corner. “You’re welcome, of course,” he mumbled, then cleared his throat. “A child’s impending arrival is always a joyous thing.”
Not a note of joy sat on his face or rang in his voice. I’d encountered cheerier demeanors at funerals.
I didn’t dare look at Alex. Instead, I watched my uncle. Lennox St. Simon had sat quietly throughout the proceedings. Several times, he’d cocked his head and settled a very sharp, Gerry-like gaze on whoever happened to be talking, including me. Now he watched Zrakovi with a slight smile curving his mouth at the edges and a glint in his eyes. He didn’t know to shield his feelings when his part-elven niece was lurking about, apparently, so I knew he was gleeful and greedy and enjoyed his superior’s discomfort. He wanted Zrakovi to fail. Uncle Lennox wore the hunger of an ambitious man who sensed a weakness in his rival.
Fingering my amulet again, I sought to lessen the emotional drag of both wizards. While Zrakovi physically wrapped up the meeting, his mind was rapidly morphing from frantic annoyance to outright fury. He ended with an announcement that the council would reconvene in January unless the wizarding body elected a permanent First Elder before then or one of the outstanding warrants was filled.
His fury wrapped around me despite my shielding. He’d been blindsided. He’d been outplayed.
And he didn’t like it.
My part of Plan Eugenie was about to begin; I could only hope Rand backed me up, or Eugenie and I would both be taking flight.
My first option, however, was leaving without any close encounters of the Elder kind. I looped my arm through Truman Capote’s and talked about utter nonsense as we edged our way toward the door laden with our bags and notebooks and coats. We’d made it almost as far as the entrance to the hallway when I felt a tug on my arm and looked up to see Alex.
Granite statues had more animation in their faces. “Willem wants to talk to you.”