At the time, he’d believed he’d meet others to take her place, other loves that would exceed the strong passion he felt for her. He ended their relationship and told her not to cry. She hadn’t listened. Her tears and the hate reflected in her eyes were the last thing he remembered.
He had been very young and very much a fool.
Deborah had wanted him to stay with her. He was tempted until he learned she had had a daughter. Back then he’d had no interest in letting her domesticate him and even less interest in caring for her brat. He was already on the rise in the Grey Council, he’d reasoned, and they disapproved of male Wizards who mated with only one woman. Besides there were so many women How could he be content with just one?
When he learned she’d died, he’d felt like a part of what was good in him had died with her. Like so many female Wizards, her heart had simply stopped beating. He ran his fingers over her image. “Deborah, you would not recognize the man you loved. I barely recognize him myself. I’ve done things…”
“Grand Vizier.”
The monotone voice belonged to a male servant. There was a time when he would have known the man’s name. He set the picture down over the latch that opened a hidden door behindhis desk. After Deborah’s death, a death he suspected was not accidental, he’d had the hidden door installed. “Yes?”
“President Constantine of the Talons is here to see you.”
“He is late.” He shook his head and turned Deborah’s picture toward the wall. “Never mind. Show him in.” Although Vlad didn’t trust humans, and the president was no exception, the man had taught him the politics needed to survive. It was Constantine’s idea for him to change his name to Vlad, the fifteenth-century ruler of Romania, after reading a novel on the life of Vlad The Impaler, thought to have been the inspiration for Dracula. Constantine had pushed for the Grey Council’s approval of the name change and won. The tactic was meant to instill fear. It worked too well. Vlad was feared, but he was also mistrusted.
Vlad rose when the president’s four bodyguards entered and, without permission, made a security sweep of the room. After a mind-numbing search, one of the men turned to another and made an all-clear sign.
The president’s entrance was less dramatic than that of his guards. He was a study in controlled elegance. His dark suit was tailor-made; he had distinguished gray hair at the temples, a fit body, and sharp, angular features. He could fit into any Fortune 500 company.
“I apologize for the security check,” Constantine said in an accent that hinted at a Cambridge education. “You know how suspicious the Talons are.”
Vlad nodded. The Talons weren’t the only ones. Vlad stepped around his desk to shake the president’s hand, then motioned toward a pair of matching leather chairs by the window. They might as well be comfortable. Constantine never got down to business right away. He was a master of small talk, and Vlad, like most Earth Wizards, was a patient man.
Earth Wizards played the long game, unlike the unpredictability of Air Wizards, or the flash tempers of Fire Wizards. Earth Wizards were patient, very similar to the female Water Wizards. Maybe that was the reason Earth Wizards feared them above all others. Amongst the magical community, water was considered the most destructive of all the elements.
Vlad settled in the chair opposite Constantine’s, then waved away the servant’s offer of tea. The president’s white shirt was open at the collar to show off a series of black swirls twisting around his neck. The tattoos were fakes that needed a touch-up and were Constantine’s Achilles Heel. He envied Wizards and believed the thick black Celtic swirls made him look like one. They didn’t.
Constantine looked around the room as though trying to figure out how to start on the topic he wanted to talk about. “I heard attendance has fallen for this year’s Fertility Festival.”
Vlad had had this conversation before. “We have the same problem as always. Too many men. Not enough women.”
Constantine examined his fingernails, then looked up. “There is a solution. Let my people participate in the festival.”
Despite his resolve to remain calm, Vlad’s blood simmered. “You want me to allow humans to participate? This is a Fertility Festival. We are trying to preserve our species, not dilute it into oblivion with human blood. Or is that why every year the Talons suggest that ridiculous solution? They want the Wizards weakened so they can take over.”
Constantine heaved a sigh. “You are being paranoid and growing too much like your namesake. Perhaps I merely envision a blended leadership, where both sides are magical. Or perhaps we ask because we just want to participate. You have to admit, you throw a hell of a party.” When Vlad didn’t respond, Constantine let out his breath. “Earth Wizards have no sense of humor. Forget I asked. I anticipated your position and broughtmy own entertainment.” He snapped his fingers, and the doors flung open again.
Framed in the entrance was a petite woman. Vlad doubted she was more than four feet tall. Her hair hung down to the floor and there was a green cast to her passive features. She was dressed in a low-cut French court gown that would have made Marie Antoinette envious.
Constantine nodded to the guard, who pushed her forward. “She’s quite a find. Looks more like a fairy than a Troll, and very rare. Not many of her kind left, or so I’m told.”
Vlad gripped the arms of his chair. If anyone else had brought a Troll to the island, he’d have killed the man on the spot. He didn’t trust people who couldn’t be bought. “Why did you bring that thing here?”
Constantine patted the woman’s hand. “Female Trolls are considered lucky.”
“Only to other Trolls.”
“Nonsense. I have it on good authority. Besides, I intend to participate in Bealtaine, and even if you had reconsidered and offered me a female Wizard for the festival, they always judge a man’s performance. Female Trolls aren’t as particular.”
Constantine winked at the woman, while Vlad swallowed down bile. The creature’s expression remained unchanged. Her lack of interest didn’t seem to bother Constantine, Vlad noted. The president drew her to sit on the arm of his chair.
“She can’t stay,” Vlad said, through clenched teeth.
“On the contrary, I want her here. She relaxes me. I think it’s all the soothing green. Anyway, she can’t hear or speak.” Constantine had a silly-ass grin on his face as he tucked the creature’s hair behind a small ear that was shaped into a point on the tip. “Think of it. A woman who won’t talk back. My dead wife would never shut up. Arranged marriages are a realcrapshoot. I’m taking better care in the selection of my son’s bride than my parents did in mine.”
Vlad almost felt sorry for Constantine’s son. Inbreeding was as common in the Talons as it was in Europe’s royal families during the Middle Ages. Talons bragged they could trace their lineage back to the original seven founders. It also meant it weakened the humans’ bloodline and made for a small pool of marriageable candidates. “Does it have a name?”
“I don’t think Trolls have names.”
