He always had been perceptive.Tooperceptive at times.
“I am not staring,” I replied, setting the device on the table with deliberate care. “I am merely ensuring I don’t miss anything important.”
Kaori’s lips curved upward as she spread jam on her toast.
“That’s the definition of staring at your phone, Lucian.”
I shot her a look that would have sent anyone else scurrying for cover, but my beloved merely raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. In the two months since our paths had crossed in that dusty nephilim archive, she had never once cowered before me.
It was both infuriating and intoxicating.
“Casi said they would call after they dealt with the Harrow girl.” Sebastian cuddled his cat, Mirabelle, for a moment more, then set her on the floor with a gentle stroke down her back.
The white Persian was the ugliest creature I had ever set eyes upon, and Sebastian doted on her like she was his child.
“They should have waited for backup,” I noted as the diva of a cat flicked her tail at us, obviously irritated that her personal lap provider had scorned her for his dinner.
“From whom?Us?” Sebastian’s laugh held no humor. “The terms of your truce with Arabesque prevent the direct involvement of the vampire court. The Cimmerians are technically free agents.”
“A technicality I arranged specifically for situations like this,” I reminded him.
The loophole had been carefully crafted, a legal gray area that allowed my sons to act where I could not. It was one of many contingencies I had put in place recently.
“They can handle one teenage witch,” Sebastian said with confidence that mirrored my own outward demeanor.
“Even a Dark one,” I agreed, although the knot of concern in my chest disagreed.
Dark witches were unpredictable, drawing power from diabolical and corrupted sources and bound by fewer constraints than their conventional counterparts. And Amabel was Arabesque’s daughter; she would have been well-versed in the most forbidden arts.
I had trained my sons thoroughly, too, however. Pushed them past breaking points most couldn’t imagine. Molded them into weapons that could extend my reach where politics constrained me. Casimir’s determination, Zane’s cunning, Koa’s raw power, all forged under my strict guidance.
But as the old saying went, “The best laid plans of mice and men gang oft awry.”
And when dealing with Dark witches, there was always the potential for most of it to go awry.
“They’ll be fine.” Kaori reached across the table, her fingers brushing mine. The touch was light, but I felt it like a brand against my skin. “You’ve spent their entire lives ensuring they would be.”
“It’s notworry, but practicality,” I lied smoothly, turning my hand to catch her fingers. “If they fail to contain Amabel properly, we lose a valuable source of information.”
Sebastian’s expression told me he wasn’t fooled, but he was diplomatic enough not to contradict me. Instead, he redirected the conversation.
“Speaking of information, any progress on identifying our court traitor?”
“Nothing concrete.” I frowned. The existence of a spy within my inner circle was an ongoing insult, one that had persisted far longer than it should have. “Whoever it is has been exceptionally careful.”
“Or exceptionallyplaced,” Kaori mused, setting down her fork. “The quality of intelligence Arabesque has been receiving suggests someone with significant access.”
“I agree.” I smiled slightly, appreciating her analytical mind. “It’s either someone very high or very low, and I know which way I’m betting.”
“Upper echelon.” Sebastian nodded. “The serving staff are too closely monitored, and most lack access to sensitive areas without supervision.”
“To obtain the information she has, Arabesque must have corrupted someone significant,” I said, my voice hardening. “The details about the northern border patrols, the schedules of our blood shipments, the names of our human allies in government.”
“And Lord Wince?” Kaori asked carefully.
I felt my jaw tighten at the mention of the man. Mordecai’s betrayal still burned worse than sunlight.
“A true disappointment.” I took a sip of my coffee, the metallic tang of blood mixing with the bitter richness. “There was a time when I would have bet my fangs on his loyalty.”
