“This is supposed to be a state marriage,” I said.
“It is that,” she said. “Is that all you want it to be?”
I stared at her. “Given what I’ve heard from Mab, I thought the plan was for me to be your addict.”
Her expression smoothed over into neutrality and her eyes focused into the distance. “I would certainly be comfortable with my part in that role. And you would be treated as close to ethically as the situation could sustain. But frankly, in this matter I don’t particularly care what Mab wants. Is that whatyouwant?”
It really, really bothered me that it took a long moment before I answered, “Not really.”
“Ah,” Lara said, bowing her head so that her hair fell forward over her cheeks. “You’re tempted. But you have promises to keep.”
“And miles to go,” I said, nodding. “So, no. And I will totally fight you over it.”
Lara nodded and shivered. “I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you that I might be concerned about you using magic to subjugate me in a similar fashion.”
I blinked.
It hadn’t.
Lara sighed. “I didn’t think so. But it is one of the talents wizards possess, and therefore a possibility I have to bear in mind with you, don’t you think?”
“God,” I mused. “I’d hate to think of the job I’d do on you if I tried it. My psychomancy is less subtle than most pile drivers. I’d make a mess of you.”
“I am, if possible, even more horrified than I was when I first considered the idea,” Lara said wryly. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
“Be assured,” Lara said, “I am nervous, too.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Leaving us where, exactly?”
“In balance?” Lara asked. “Perhaps as allies?”
“Strong word,” I said. I narrowed my eyes. “Associates. We share discretionary information. We do one another a kind turn when we can.We wiggle the line a little for one another when need arises. We exercise reciprocity. And we see where that takes us.”
“That sounds like a beginning I can live with,” Lara said. “Provided it is understood that we are associates with”—she flashed me a perfectly merry, perfectly wicked smile—“intentions.”
The Winter mantle wanted me to tackle her, immediately. I pushed it down and rasped, “Is that a legal term?”
“It is an apt term for our situation. You will find me an excellent associate, Dresden.”
“I’m kind of iffy,” I said frankly. I paused and added, “Except when everything is on the line.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Good,” I said. “We know where we stand.”
She nodded. Then her lips pressed together, she nodded as if committing to a course, and said, “The eldest known ancestor of my House was named Laris of Arretium. A sorcerer-king of an Etruscan citadel. He was the man who inadvertently cursed us with the Hunger.”
I frowned and turned my body toward her, listening.
“The sorcerer-kings of that day were an elite society,” Lara continued. “Always questing for greater power in the dark arts.”
I grunted. “The White Council’s history class teaches that the Council arose to challenge the sorcerer-kings of the ancient world.”
“That is within a reasonable proximity of truth as I know it,” she said. “Granted, the rise of the White Council happened in rhythm with the Romans rising against the Etruscan League and was thoroughly mixed with a toxic brew of economics and politics as well as personal dramas by the score. But I am speaking of more than a thousand years before that time. Laris and his circle had been plumbing the depths of the dark arts and they…opened a portal to the Outside.”
I felt my eyebrows go up.
