Grimbold grunted. “How long have you been counsel for our clan, Geoffrey?”
Geoffrey frowned. His father knew, but this was how he lectured: using the Socratic method, no doubt learned firsthand from the man himself. “Since Edward assumed the English throne. It was just after the coronation. Your brother—my uncle—Condon stepped down to try for a clutch.”
His father nodded. “Go on,” he said, as if he wasn’t aware of what had happened.
“Condon tried several times, with several omegas, but he never managed to impregnate a single one.” Geoffrey looked down at his highly polished shoes.
“Indeed. There was a Disgrace that caught his eye. Our father—your grandsire—steered Condon away from her. I was held up as the example of what a proper dragon did. I impregnated an omega of impeccable breeding, then I took her eggs away.” He paused. “And she died. It’s not talked about, but the mortality rate of omegas who produce clutches for dragons is dangerously high. Very few survive the process. Your mother did not.”
Grimbold looked uncharacteristically pained, enough so that Geoffrey hastened to say, “But that’s the way things are.” He paused, then amended, “Were. It’s all changed now, thanks to Harrison and Ignatius, and especially Matthieu.” He felt a warm glow of happiness when thinking of his omegawytad.
His father shook himself, the movement minute, but unmistakable. “Yes. It seems like that is indeed the case. If Everard’s mate is correct, those who don’t heed his findings will themselves be outbred by those who do. Time will tell. But I digress. Had Condon taken that Disgrace as his own, as he’d wanted to, he might have gotten a family, and perhaps a mate. Instead, he died, killed in that stupid duel with that Gold dragon in Cathay.”
Geoffrey stood there mute, having no idea what his father wanted him to say.
“I worry about all my children. Sebastian’s recklessness, Everard’s sharpness, and Alistair’s incompetence—all have been tempered by their mates. Bertram has settled into a quiet life, and Reynard’s solitude has finally been breached. Which leaves me Hugh, and you, Geoffrey.”
“Me, sir?” Geoffrey couldn’t help but be startled. “But it’s Hugh that—”
“Hugh will be settled. I will see to it. But you, my son, have managed to surprise even me, your sire. I never guessed. You hide your feelings too well and too deep. You always did, even as a whelp. Calm, cool, collected. You were the perfect choice to succeed Condon. You have been the perfect counsel for the Amethyst clan.”
Have been. Geoffrey made note of the tense. “But no more?” Nervous, he began to pace.
Grimbold shook his head. “No more.”
Geoffrey’s heart fell. He knew this day would come if his secret ever got out. Still, he felt emotionally gutted. Not so much because he was losing his place, but because of how he was losing it. He closed his eyes, fisted his hands, and refused to show his father either emotion or weakness. “I understand. Will you give me time to fully train Sargon? He’s quite brilliant. With a bit of mentoring, he’ll be ready to serve the Amethysts in my stead. Will you expect me to leave Aurora? How much time do I have? I’ll need to liquidate assets—”
His father slammed his fist on his desk, making Geoffrey jump. “Look at me, whelp.”
Geoffrey had no choice but to obey his sire’s command. He stopped pacing the Turkish carpet. “Yes, sir.”
Grimbold massaged the bridge of his patrician nose and sighed. “Boy, I don’t mean any of this as a punishment. You have a family now, and not just me, or your clutch-mates, or cousins, or uncles, or nephews.Yourchildren.Yourmates. They are your family, Geoffrey. They need you. It’s time.”
Geoffrey swallowed hard. “So you… you don’t…” Words were things that Geoffrey had always understood and bent to his will, but now they slid away from him disobediently. “I’m not disowned?”
He’d thought about this moment for years. He’d plotted out various scenarios in his head, and had mental, and sometimes concrete, plans put in place for each one. He had places to go. Places he could hide, and be safe.
And alone.
In every scenario, he’d ended up alone.
Grimbold reared his head back and looked up at his son. “Please, Geoffrey, do sit. You’re making my neck ache.”
Wordlessly, Geoffrey sat in one of the chairs facing his father’s desk.
“I am not sure how you got such an idiotic notion in your head, but no, I am not disowning you.” Grimbold leaned forward. “Is that understood?”
Geoffrey opened his mouth to agree, then he shut it and shook his head instead. “Actually, no, I don’t, Father. You should be disowning me. I’ve put my reputation, your reputation, the clan’s reputation at risk for years.”
Grimbold steepled his fingers. “Ah, yes, true. But you were also part of the council changing the laws that govern us. Your conduct is no longer illegal. Scandalous, perhaps, but Amethysts seem to be a magnet for that sort of thing. My children are, at any rate.”
“So?” Geoffrey, having not foreseen this scenario at all, felt lost, his footing unsure, and the way ahead obscured.
“So you have cleverly arranged events so that you being disowned isn’t necessary. Do keep up, boy. I’d hate to have to acknowledge Everard as my most intelligent offspring.”
“It was Matthieu,” Geoffrey felt it necessary to point out. “He did as much of the research as me or Ian, but that speech… it was all him.” He couldn’t keep the glow of pride out of his voice. His clever omega. His precious mate.
Grimbold’s mouth softened into something that was almost a smile. “Yes. As to that. The boy has a fine mind. See it doesn’t go to waste. While training Sargon to be your replacement, I think, perhaps, you should consider starting the omega on some broader education. It doesn’t seem to have harmed either of your brothers’ mates, and I believe in exploiting my resources. Once trained, he’d make a fine assistant to Sargon.”
