“Then we counter with our own terms.” I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my waist. “Stay alert. Watch for tells. Andfor night’s sake, Zane, try not to antagonize him more than necessary this time!”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he grinned, but there was an edge to it.
Zane used humor like a shield, deflecting attention from how carefully he observed everything around him. He was smarter than he let on, more strategic than his chaos suggested. Which is why I knew he’d listen when it mattered, despite his protests.
Within fifteen minutes, we were clean, dressed, and as composed as we were going to get. The palace servants had worked minor miracles, finding clothes and shoes that fit our varying builds. Trousers and button-downs and moon-damned dress shoes, although Zane had immediately rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his collar in silent protest.
Father didn’t waste time with pleasantries when we stepped back into his office significantly less bloodstained. He leaned forward in his chair, fingers laced together like a man about to make a business deal, which was fine with me. Treating him strictly like another client was always an acceptable approach.
The tension in the room was knife-edge sharp, every word and gesture carrying weight. I catalogued exits, personnel, Father’s body language. He wanted something from us, something specific. The question was whether the price would be worth paying.
A detached part of my mind noted the new painting behind his desk. A stormy landscape, all harsh lines and tumultuous skies. A gift from the new queen, perhaps? I’d heard rumors about Kaori, Father’s second beloved. Sebastian spoke highly of her in his calls and texts, which meant either she was genuinely decent or she had our half-brother thoroughly manipulated.
I was betting on the former. Very few creatures could fool Sebastian, thank the night.
Father cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to the matter at hand. I settled into a chair across from him, positioning myself so I could see both the door and the window without turning my head. Old habits.
Ko remained standing, arms crossed, silent sentinel at my right shoulder. Zane sprawled in the chair to my left, deceptively relaxed, one finger tapping a rhythm against my thigh that I recognized as Morse code:“Bullshit incoming.”
We were ready, a unified front against whatever he was about to propose. It had always been the three of us against the world,especiallywhen that world included our father.
“I have a proposal for you.” He didn’t bat an eye. “A marriage proposal.”
For a rare moment, I was caught off guard. Even Zane, whose mouth ran loud and often, was silent with shock. It didn’t last long, though.
“Cruor. That’s new.” He blinked, then tilted his head. “Usually, you just sell us to the highest bidder.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Father murmured. “This is a strategic alliance, nothing more.”
“Elaborate,” I said, keeping my voice neutral even as my mind raced through every possible angle.
Marriage meant leverage, connection, opportunity, but also vulnerability, commitment, and emotional entanglement. The cost-benefit analysis was already running in my mind, but I needed more data.
Father explained that the Dark witch, Arabesque Harrow, wanted a truce with the vampire court and suggested a marriage between their houses to seal it. That got my attention. Arabesque was more than just a powerful magic user. She was ambitious, ruthless, and, worst of all, intelligent. If she wanted an alliance with our father, it wasn’t for anything good.
I ran through what I knew about her. Claimed her family coven at sixteen. Responsible for several bloodline curses. Attempted conquest of the South American Court six years ago. Wasn’t seen again until a witches’ conference in Grand Rapids a year later. Disappeared off the map again immediately after.
Too many unknowns. I didn’t like it.
“Okay, now I’m even more confused.” Zane scrubbed one hand through his damp red hair, messing it up even more than usual. “Why do you want to play nice with a Dark witch who’s on multiple watch lists?”
“Because I want to know what she’s up to,” Father replied, silver eyes glinting.
Ah. So that was it. A strategic move. He wasn’t trying to bind us to Arabesque; he was trying to use us to gain knowledge. To spy on her. The game board shifted in my mind, pieces rearranging.
“She’s planning something,” Father continued. “Something significant. And she believes it will take under a year to complete. I intend to find out what it is.”
“And marrying one of her daughters helps with that?” I asked.
“At the very least, you can gain insight into her and her household from your bride. Maybe even discover some useful information about whatever she’s plotting. No one wants another Buenos Aires incident.”
Not the worst plan on his side or Arabesque’s. Embed someone close to the target, gather intelligence, report back. A classic strategy. But also risky, especially for whoever got caught in the crossfire when it inevitably went wrong. And there wasalwayscollateral damage in these games.
“And what doweget out of it?” Zane asked, rolling his head and cracking his neck without a care.
“Several things.” For once, Father didn’t mock the direct approach. “I’ll provide you with an estate, furnished, secure, and fully staffed. Also, a sizable dowry, or should I call it a treasury?”
“How about just call it a bribe?” Zane flashed a bright smile, all teeth and no humor.
