Had to be the Brotherhood.
Then, as he bent over the sink to rinse the residual shaving cream off his cheeks, something hard dropped to the floor next door—or was thrown at a wall. In what sure as shit seemed like Qhuinn’s room.
Cranking off the hot and cold mix, he snagged a towel and wrapped it around his hips as he jogged out of his suite and headed down to—
Blay skidded to a halt. Qhuinn’s room was dark, but the light from the corridor shone in…on a circle of black robes that surrounded the guy. As he was held face-first against the wall.
Blay’s only thought was that a second Honor Guard had come for the fighter—even though he knew damn well that it was the Brotherhood under all those robes. Had to be, right?
Vishous’s voice solved that one, the male’s words slow and even.
Then Qhuinn was released. As he turned around, he was white as a sheet, shaking as he stood naked in the center of that circle of hooded figures.
Wrath cut through the silence, the king’s deep baritone filling the darkness. “You shall be asked a question. You shall be asked it only once. Your answer shall stand for the test of time, extending out from this moment unto your bloodline forever more. Are you prepared to be asked.”
Blay put his dagger hand up to his mouth as the thing fell open. This couldn’t be…could it? They were inducting him into the Black Dagger Brotherhood?
Instantly, he put it all together—Saxton working for all those months; Qhuinn’s acts of heroism; John getting informed that the guy was no longer his ahstrux nohtrum.
Wrath must have changed the Old Laws.
Holy fucking shit.
“Hell, yeah. Ask me.”
Blay had to smile as he ducked away and went back to his room. Leave it to Qhuinn to be blunt.
As he shut his door, he stayed against it, waiting. Moments later, those heavy footsteps came again, filing past his room, going down the hall, disappearing…changing history forever.
In all the aeons of the Brotherhood, there had never been anyone inducted who wasn’t the son of a Brother and a female of Chosen blood. Qhuinn was technically an aristocrat —even with him forsaken by his family, and with his “defect,” his lineage was what it was. But he didn’t have the kind of DNA credentials—or the warrior name—that the others did.
And yet, assuming he lived through the ceremony, he would return to the mansion as a male among equals, forsaken no more.
It was good that Luchas was alive to see this. That was going to matter.
Blay got dressed, and when he checked his phone, he saw the group text that had gone out from Tohr, saying that no one was going out into the field tonight—and that they were getting a pair of new roommates: The Shadows were coming to stay at the mansion.
Cool. Given the disquiet with the aristocracy, and that attempt on Wrath’s life? Nothing better than having those two killers under the roof. Coupled with Lassiter’s antics, that meant the king had a trio of guys with extra skills protecting him.
With any luck, Trez and iAm would be permanent fixtures.
Leaving his room, he jogged down the stairs and was not surprised to find the doggen running around, setting up a feast.
How long was it going to take, he wondered.
And man, he wished he had something to occupy the time.
Wandering into the billiards room, because he knew better than to approach Fritz with an offer to help with the preparations, he picked up a cue and racked a set of balls. As he was chalking the tip, the bell at the vestibule’s door went off.
“I’ve got it,” he hollered out as he took his cue with him, striding over to the security check-in screen.
Saxton was on the stoop, the male looking rested and healthy.
Blay opened the way in. “Welcome back.”
There was a moment of surprise on the other male’s face, but he recovered fast with a smile. “Hello.”
Blay wasn’t sure whether they should embrace or not. Did they shake?
“We need to stop this awkwardness,” Saxton announced. “Come here.”
“I know, right?”
After a quick hug, Blay grabbed the male’s matching Gucci bags, and the pair of them hit the grand staircase, ascending side by side.
“So how was the vacation?” Blay asked.
“Wonderful. I went to my aunt’s—the one who still talks to me? She has a place down in Florida.”
“Dangerous place for vampires. Not a lot of basements.”
“Ah, but she lives in a stone castle.” Saxton nodded around at the foyer. “Not unlike this one. The evenings were warm, the ocean was wonderful, and the nightlife was—”
As Saxton stopped short, Blay glanced over. “It’s all right, you know. I’m glad you had a good time. Honest.”
Saxton regarded him steadily, and then murmured, “You’ve been busy yourself, haven’t you.”
Damn redheaded coloring. Any blush had always shown—and right now, his face was on frickin’ fire.
As they took a left in front of Wrath’s study and headed down the hall of statues, Saxton laughed a little. “I’m happy for you—and I’m not going to ask any questions.”
He knew the “who,” Blay thought. “Yeah. So.”
“How about you fill me in on the gossip,” Saxton said as they went into the male’s room. “I feel like I’ve been gone forever.”
“Well…brace yourself.”
Luchas. Trez and iAm. Qhuinn and the induction.
By the time Blay was finished downloading, Saxton was sitting on his bed with his mouth hanging open.
“But you knew about the Qhuinn thing, didn’t you,” Blay said as he finally stopped reporting.
“Yes, I did.” Saxton straightened his bow tie, even though the tight knot was perfectly symmetrical. “And I have to say, even though I don’t know as much as you do about how he is in the field, everything that I’ve heard suggests it is an honor well placed. I understand he played a big role in getting Wrath safe when the assassination was attempted?”
“He’s brave, that’s true.”
Among many other things.
As Blay looked out into the hall and pictured those hooded figures clustered around his friend, all he could think of was…what the hell were they going to do to him?
SEVENTY
Qhuinn had no clue where he was.
Before they’d left his room, he’d been given a black robe and instructed to put the hood up, lock his eyes on the floor and keep his hands clasped behind his back. He was not to speak unless spoken to, and it was made clear that how he acted was part of what he’d be judged on.
No being an asshole or a pussy.
He could do that.
Next stop after getting led down the grand staircase had been V’s Escalade; he knew by the tang of Turkish tobacco and the sound of the engine. Short drive, executed slowly. And then he was told to get out, cold air seeping under the hood of his robe as well as the hem.
His bare feet traversed an icy-cold, frozen stretch of earth, and then hit smooth, hard-packed dirt that had no snow on it. Going by the acoustics, it was clear they were heading through a corridor or maybe a cave…? It wasn’t long before he was jerked to a stop, heard some kind of gate was opened, and then found himself on a decline. A little later, he was yanked to a halt a second time, and then there was another whisper, as if one more barrier of some sort was being cleared.
Smooth marble under his bare feet now. And the shit was warm. There was also a mellow light source—candlelight.
God, his heartbeat was loud in his ears.
After a number of yards, he was again pulled to a stop, and then he heard shifting fabric everywhere around him. The Brothers disrobing.
He wanted to look up, see where they were at, find out what was doing, but he did not. As instructed, he kept his head down and his eyes on the—
A heavy hand landed on the nape of his neck, and Wrath’s voice boomed in the Old Language. “You are unworthy to enter herein as you stand now. Nod your head.”
Qhuinn nodded.
“Say that you are unworthy.”
In the Old Language, he replied, “I am unworthy.”