That made him think of Ulrik attempting to gain his magic again by going behind Mikkel’s back. He hadn’t disciplined Ulrik yet for that—but it was coming.
Just as he would betray Ulrik, killing him right after Ulrik put an end to Con. Mikkel would be King of Kings and the planet could be returned to what it was always meant to be—a dragon realm.
But that was for later. Right now he had to take care of this mess. Mikkel didn’t want to kill Harriet. She was loyal and bright, but she’d let him down.
“You’ve failed me epically,” Mikkel told her. “The whole point was for Kinsey to get in, gather all the information, get it to us, and then let her betrayal become known to Ryder so he’d kill her for us.”
Harriet swallowed and opened her mouth to talk.
Mikkel spoke over her. “I’m not finished. Then there’s Esther. I thought I told you not to send her in yet.”
“Did none of your probing into Esther’s mind reveal that she had a brother who worked for MI5 and who was helping the Kings?” Ulrik asked from the shadows.
Mikkel wanted to demand why Ulrik had waited to tell him that bit of information, but he held himself in check. Barely. Instead, he focused his growing ire on Harriet, whose eyes had gone wide.
“What?” she asked. “That’s not possible. We did every background check there was. She’s an orphan.”
Ulrik tsked. “She was trained by MI5. I’m fairly certain they could make you believe whatever was needed.”
Mikkel had had enough. He stood, his chair flying back to hit the shelves behind him. “What?” he bellowed. He stalked around his desk to Harriet. “Are you telling me Esther was sent to spy on us?”
Harriet backed up, the stiletto of her shoe getting caught in the rug and causing her ankle to twist. She caught herself by grabbing the back of a chair set before the desk. “I’m thorough in my work. You know that.”
“No’ thorough enough!” Damn, he hated when his Scots accent came through with his anger. He was getting better at controlling it, but sometimes it slipped through.
“Kinsey should’ve killed her for giving up a name anyway,” Harriet hurried to say.
He looked over her pale face and the fear in her gaze. “The only reason you’re alive right now is because you’ve done what no other has been able to do. You got a human onto Dreagan. This is your last chance, Harriet. If you can’t finish what you started, then I’ll claim your life.”
“I’ll finish it,” she vowed with a firm nod. “I’ve never let you down before. I’ll fix this and prove I’m worthy of continuing to work for you.”
He gave her a nod. Without another word, she hurried from his office.
“Do you believe her?” Ulrik asked.
Mikkel turned to face his nephew. “I hope she comes through because she’s been a great asset. In the end, however, I’m sure she’ll have to die.”
“Even if she corrects the problem and gets you all you need and want from Dreagan?”
Mikkel narrowed his gaze on Ulrik who stood still as a statue against the wall. “She failed me. I can’t believe you asked such a question. You were King of the Silvers. You above all else knows what it means to keep those below you in line.”
“Without a doubt.”
“Then why ask me that?”
Ulrik stepped from the shadows and leaned his hands on the desk. “Because of what she’s done for you.”
“Others can take her place,” Mikkel said with a wave of his hand. “All her work has been saved so anyone can step in at any time.”
“You believe it’s that easy?”
“I do.”
Ulrik slowly straightened. “Just as you believe anyone can be a Dragon King.”
At this Mikkel smiled. “Not at all. It takes a special kind of dragon. You took what was meant to be mine.”
“Stronger. Braver. Smarter. More powerful. With more magic.” Ulrik paused. “Aye. A special dragon.”
Mikkel didn’t like this attitude Ulrik was showing. It was time Mikkel reminded him who was in charge of who. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Muriel of late. You favor her.”
“She’s good in bed.”
“Kill her.”
Ulrik showed no emotion as he stared silently at Mikkel. “I’ll no’ kill one of Taraeth’s favorite slaves on your whim.”
“I’m telling you to do it,” Mikkel said. “You will do everything I say.”
Ulrik tugged the cuff of his dress shirt at his wrist and buttoned the suit jacket. “You can no’ start killing off the Dark.”
“I’m not. You are.”
“So you want Taraeth’s anger directed at me.”
“What I want, nephew, is for you to remember your place.”
Ulrik’s silver gaze hardened for a split second. “How can I not? You remind me of it constantly.”
“Then you should know I’ll no’ stand for any back talk, nor will I allow you to grow a spine.”
Ulrik could kill him. Right then. It wouldn’t take much. He had Mikkel at a disadvantage, though Mikkel didn’t realize it yet. The thought of seeing Mikkel’s surprise as the life drained from him was exhilarating.