One of Bale’s eyes narrows, pinching with a quick twitch. He continues gently stroking Fyrestar’s head. “My garrisons in the northeast say Bloodwold vampires are getting bolder by the day. Torridaigans in the border cities keep disappearing without a trace.”
I can only assume the change in subject means Bale is over his indignation at my plain living space. I feel my body temperature rise again, this time in pleasure that he’s bringing the affairs and concerns of the kingdom to me. Bale doesn’t keep advisors on staff, so if he needs to bounce ideas around or work on strategies, it’s usually with me, Stuart, or Sybil. We all realize how unique that is.
“Should we retaliate?” I ask.
“If we don’t, I fear they’ll only grow bolder.”
“But we’ll have to do it on our side of the border, which means waiting for them to attack.”
“And more Torridaigans could get caught in the crossfire.”
“But if we cross the border, even in pursuit, Rannigan Bloodthief will go after you at the upcoming Council for aggression. You know the Were King will side with him just to keep Rannigan from looking his way, and the fae could easily side with him too.” The fae kingdom of Tanturriff is safely across the continent from Bloodwold, with the whole of Torridaig in between, and the fae can suck down vampire years just as easily as vampires can suck down fae blood. It’s led to a stalemate of sorts—and an alliance at times.
“The Were King will only openly side with me in exchange for something huge. He’s too scared of the Vampire King to do otherwise, even if werebeasts are inedible. We all know Rannigan will murder for a throne and the Council vote that comes with it.”
“Something huge? Like integrating all of Muirvale into Wyndwood?” Bale nods, and I feel ill. Anyone from Muirvale who wants to be in Wyndwood is already there. “Will the new Fae Queen keep up the old one’s politics?” I ask. She and the Vampire King aligned against us in the past because they were out of each other’s reach, and they both wanted to feed off dragon shifters in their own ways.
Bale’s mouth thins, his expression unsure. “That remains to be seen. The upcoming Council could change a lot, and I have plans to try to get the new queen on friendly terms with us.”
“Plans?”
“She’s young, her magic is weak, and she’s under continual attack by her own people. Until she marries and produces an heir, she’s in constant danger. Half the fae nobility want to force themselves on her and hope for a child who’ll be the next undisputable, starborn ruler, and the other half want to murder her, hoping it’ll force Cealastra to show up again, renew magic, and choose a new ruling bloodline for Tanturriff. If I offer Marissa true protection, I’m hoping she’ll be my ally.”
Jealousy darts through me at Bale’s use of the Fae Queen’s given name. “How close an ally?”
“As close as I can get.”
The jealousy bursts in my chest like an exploding star. What if Bale decides to marry this woman? Together, they’d rule a huge portion of Ellonrift, and a half-dragon shifter, half-fae heir would be a powerful force securing a merger of the two kingdoms.
Great stars, I feel sick.
“Are you all right?” Bale hurries to my side. “Your heartbeat just accelerated like you took off at a sprint.” He frowns down at me, almost reaching out.
“I’m fine,” I say hoarsely, wishing I could sink under my covers and disappear. “Your hearing must be old and deteriorating—like the rest of you.” Hopefully the teasing insult distracts him from my racing pulse and the heat blasting off me like a forge.
A chuckle rises from deep in his throat. “Now I can’t wait until you’re better. One afternoon of training, and I’ll have you eating those words.”
His challenge only makes my pulse thump harder. Sparring with Bale is the only time we touch.
“How will you protect her?” I ask, almost reluctantly bringing us back to politics. Please don’t answer, “With myself.”
I watch him, waiting for the worst.
“I’m still debating. I have a few ideas in mind.”
I wait for more, but Bale seems done with the subject of the Fae Queen. He glances at the door, but I stupidly want to keep him with me, so I ask, “If Rannigan Bloodthief can somehow paint us as the aggressors and get the other rulers to vote in favor of sanctions, he’ll demand we hand people from Torridaig over to him for his blood markets.”
Fyrestar’s golden gaze swings toward me, as if he knows exactly what I’m doing. I look away from him, flushing.
“Rannigan can demand all he wants. I’ll never do that,” Bale says harshly.
Every year, we get closer to all-out war with Bloodwold as Rannigan manipulates Council votes in his favor and Bale retaliates in whatever way he can to protect his people while still trying to keep diplomacy alive. There used to at least be tied votes, but Rannigan found a way to eliminate those—along with one of Bale’s long-standing allies.
“But you have a plan.” I know that dark heat in his eyes, the shadow scales lightly coating his skin. “A last effort to avoid the war breathing down our necks?” We might not have courted this already bloody conflict with Bloodwold, but we’re ready for it—and Bale seems ready to exchange words for blades and be done with endless useless Councils. I’m frankly surprised he’s giving the system another chance, but I think his devotion to Cealastra makes it hard to let go of what she put into place.
He nods. “We get undeniable proof that they’re the aggressors. We capture his blood traffickers on our soil before they can cross the border again.”
“But can we prove they were on our soil?”
