Magic Claims (Kate Daniels: Wilmington Years, #2; Kate Daniels, #10.6)

“Will you be okay?” he asked.

“It will be very difficult,” I told him solemnly. “But I’m sure the magic will hit within the next twenty-four hours or so, and it only takes me fifteen minutes to set up a soundproof ward. We must be strong.”

He laughed.

“Think pure thoughts,” I told him.

“I meant will you be okay with the plan?”

“Yes. Do you think Karter can keep it a secret?”

It was a good plan. I liked it a lot. But it hinged on moving a lot of pieces into place under wraps, without most of the alphas knowing what was happening. The crack in the Pack could come without warning, and there was so much to do.

“Yes. Karter is strong enough to lead the whole Pack right now. He doesn’t want to do it, and I don’t blame him, but he does want to keep his people safe. He’s a leader, and he accepts responsibility for everything that comes with it.”

“Good.”

“I’m more worried about you. Are you sure?”

That was a question with a long and loaded answer. It was best to start at an easier place and work my way toward it.

“When the shapeshifters jumped us in the forest, and that big one tried to eat my head, and then I stabbed her?”

“Mhm.”

“I enjoyed it.” And there it was. I said it and waited.

“I know,” he said. “After you killed the skull mage, you turned to me and you were smiling. A big, bright smile. Old Kate smile.”

“Old Kate?”

“Dangerous Kate. Stabby Kate. My Kate.”

I raised my head and leaned it on my bent elbow. “Stabby?”

“Yes. Exciting.” He grinned.

So far, so good. “More words, bigger hole, Your Furriness.”

“You haven’t called me that in forever.”

“You haven’t roared in forever.”

His grin relaxed into a softer smile. “When I was on the wall, with Keelan’s pack at my back, it felt right. Seeing the enemy come, and meeting them, and stopping them. I missed it. It was a battle, Kate. We haven’t been in a battle together in forever.”

It was time to stop dipping my toes into the water and just jump in.

Like right about now.

Now would be good.

“Some pair of homicidal maniacs we are,” I murmured, buying time.

“We’re not maniacs. We do what we have to do, and we do it well. Like it or not, the world needs an occasional roar. Maybe in the future it won’t, but for now, it can use it… Someone is coming up the stairs.”

We waited silently.

A careful knock echoed through the door.

“Consort,” Jynx said. “There are two guys here to see you. They said they were ‘of the Owl.’”

“Thanks.”

She walked away. Saved by the visitors.

“‘Of the Owl’?” Curran’s eyebrows furrowed.

“My father is the gift that keeps on giving.” I rolled out of bed. “Come with?”

“Of course.” He chuckled low. “I’ll stand next to you and look menacing.”

“No need to stand. You can sit and look menacing.”

“Thank you, my queen.”

“Yes, be grateful that I’m a wise and benevolent ruler.”

We pulled on our clothes and walked out onto the balcony.

Two men waited on the street below us, blocked by a wall of shapeshifters. The younger wore an old green T-shirt and a red ballcap. The older man had chosen a worn gray sweatshirt and a white ballcap. They both wore jeans, and their beat-up work boots looked tired. A couple of day laborers waiting to be picked up, ready to work and perfectly harmless. Wouldn’t give them a second glance.

The older man looked up. His skin was like ancient parchment, a light, even umber. His face was long, made longer by a dense, short beard streaked with gray. His cheekbones stood out, the cheeks so devoid of fat that they had developed vertical creases. His eyes were dark and narrow under thick eyebrows. Everything about him, from the deep furrows in his forehead when he squinted against the evening sun to the harsh lines of his nose, was sharp, angular, and severe, and yet he was a handsome older man.

Jushur, son of Kizzura. Also known as Akku the Owl. My father’s former spymaster. Those eyes had witnessed the brutal massacre of my family, the wonders of my father’s rule, the zenith of Shinar, and the end of the world.

The man next to him looked less than half his age. Same profile, same pronounced cheekbones, same high forehead, and same golden undertone to the skin. Rimush possessed a kind of steady calm. Nothing seemed to faze him. He looked at me now like a man who had climbed half of a steep mountain. He knew there would be falling rocks, landslides, and hungry monsters along the way, because he had beaten some of them already, and he was determined to ascend to the apex.

Nothing good would come from this meeting.

“Let them up,” I said.





My father’s former spymaster looked around the balcony before sitting in his designated rocking chair. Rimush ignored his chair and positioned himself behind his father, standing quietly. Keelan took the identical position behind me and Curran.

The balcony door opened and Andre came in, carrying a coffee table filled with drinks and a platter of cookies with one hand. He set it between us, nodded to Curran and me, and went back inside.

Rimush’s standing bugged me, but asking him to sit was pointless and telling him to sit would acknowledge my authority over him, which I was doing my absolute best to reject. Keelan was clearly not sitting down either.

“Do you prefer Jushur or Akku?” I took the coffee pot from the table and poured two cups. Roland had mentioned that Akku was a coffee fiend.

“Jushur,” he said. “The man named Akku died when his king left the world.”

How did Hugh put it that one time? The king is out, long rule the queen. Life must go on.

“Fair enough. Sugar? Cream?”

Jushur took a moment to answer. “Sugar, please.”

Rimush remained silent.

I spooned some sugar into the cups and offered them to the two visitors. “Please.”

Jushur gave me an odd look, took the cup, and sipped. Rimush took one step forward, picked up his cup as if it were made of gold, and took a small swallow.

“You have chosen a public place for this meeting,” Jushur said.

“These are my people. I trust them with my safety.”

“Some words are only meant for certain ears.”

“If you wanted to discuss dangerous secrets, you wouldn’t have sought me out here. You know where I live.”

Jushur took a sip of his coffee.

Kate one, Jushur zero. Time to press my advantage.

“Your son pledged himself to me.”

“So he told me,” the spymaster said.

“I fear his loyalty is misplaced. I’m not the queen he’s looking for.”

Jushur met my eyes. “In this life each of us must decide three things for ourselves: who to worship, who to marry, and who to serve. Only Rimush can determine if you are suitable to lead him.”

Outmaneuvered. Fine. I still had an ace up my sleeve.

“My father tells me that Rimush will need a pulse of our power to unlock his full potential.”

Jushur remained silent.

“I will do this for him without a pledge or any obligation. He can serve another or no one.”

Rimush bowed deeply. “You are very generous, Sharratum.”

“The Consort is merciful and kind to a fault,” Keelan said.

The two of them stared at each other for half a second.

“I’m sure he is,” Jushur said.

Ha!

A corner of Curran’s mouth curled slightly. He forced his face back into a neutral expression.

“Why would you grant my son this gift? It’s a fair bargain: a lifetime of service for a lifetime of power.”

“Your full power shouldn’t be held hostage,” I told Rimush. “It shouldn’t cost you your freedom. It was wrong of my family to bind your family in this way. It’s only right that I release you from it.”

Jushur cleared his throat. “Your father’s view is not strictly accurate.”

“Which part?”

“We do not require the magic of your bloodline to reach our full potential. We can achieve it at any time.”

Oh. Oh! “You lied to my father.”

Jushur sipped his coffee. “Technically, we lied to your grandfather.”