The wolf’s mate turns his head slightly, in a way that tells me he’s listening. His shoulders tighten. Asher follows my gaze and nods.
Right. Dead, then. And somehow known to this vampire—the ex-crai, I think—or particularly close to him.
I sigh and settle in more firmly against the wall. Across the room, Njáll keeps darting looks at me as though he is hoping I will up and leave. He is, as I suspected he would be, surrounded by vampires and hunters and wolves, and if he looks a little overwhelmed by the attention, then why is that my concern?
I am his bodyguard, and none are a physical threat.
His emotional safety is his own responsibility. It certainly cannot be mine.
Chapter Four
Njáll
Mauricedoesnotleave.
I spend a week arguing with him, off and on, which proves ultimately fruitless, as once he has decided he doesn’t want to listen, he simply ignores me and yet still follows me from place to place.
I don’t go so far as to ask any of the guards to have him removed. No. I do not know how dangerous he is, but I can only assume very. He would not be in the Wild Hunt, otherwise.
It is difficult, too, to learn more about the Hunt while Maurice is around. Any questions I direct to him go unanswered—only adding to my frustration.
“Youhaveto do everything your Huntsman tells you?”
Maurice smiles, fleeting and fake. He has draped himself over the sofa in my office, one of burgundy velvet that I had brought in as soon as the room became my own. There are some armchairs, too, but he always ignores those.
I always hated sitting in the antique, hard-backed chairs Vasile insisted on having in here. It made my visitations to this office, regardless of the reason, make me feel as though I was an errant boy again. These are the changes I don’t at all mind making.
“Would you have the clan do everything you tell them to do?” Maurice shoots back. He’s not looking at me. His head is tipped back, eyes fixed somewhere on the ceiling.
If he is looking for threats, he will not find them there. I sigh and fix my eyes back on my laptop screen.
Vasile and I worked through all of this before he left—and he has made it clear that he is always available, should I need guidance. It is not that. It is the sheervolumeof communication that surprises me. When I was a chieftain, I received emails, of course, but nothing like this.
There are loose clans across the country who are almost constantly in contact with the London crai. With Vasile, so now with me. The odd lone vampire, too, requesting to visit the city, or asking for advice, or approaching us with new ideas, or, or, or…
Someone knocks at the door. Maurice is over by it before I can blink, head tilted to the left as he listens.
“The chieftains are coming,” I say with a sigh. “You have access to my calendar.”
He blinks, then looks past me. The walls are not bare, but there is no physical calendar on them.
“You don’t have one.”
“On your—” I pull out my phone and wave it at him. “Your phone. Vasile gave me an email address.”
Maurice blinks again. He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t have one of those,” he says, indicating the device in my hand with a jerk of his chin. “Why wouldn’t you write it down?”
There’s an edge of grumpiness to his voice that surprises me. Amuses me, too, though I fight the urge to smile. “Well, I suppose if you’re not going to get one…”
“I’ll do it,” Maurice snaps. He stalks away from the door, but instead of retaking his place on the sofa, he leans in one corner of the room. “Your chieftains are here.”
I know that, simply because it must be so. Vampires can smell better than humans, but nothing like wolves, and so I’m not certain how Maurice is sure at all.
It doesn’t matter. I get to my feet and open the door, ushering Afsaneh and Elle into the room.
“Kayode is on his way,” Afsaneh says. She takes one of the armchairs, while Elle smiles and crosses the room to the drinks cabinet. My stomach tightens. I’m hungry, but she shouldn’t know that.
“And Briar?” I ask. Drawing attention to what Elle is doing will only raise questions I am not prepared to answer.
