James’s expression grows immediately grim, and, across the way, Rebella startles, glancing back at us.
“This is very bad news,” James says.
A silent communication occurs between him and Rebella, at the end of which she gives him another bleak look.
When he speaks, James sounds unexpectedly hesitant. “Before I give you my advice, Veda, may I ask you a question?”
“Okay.”
“Did the keeper offer you his crown?”
“I refused it. Taking it will kill him.”
“Damn.” James stares at me for a long moment. I stare right back at him, unflinching even as his eyes take on a slightly crimson hue, an alarmingly powerful color.
Then, his gaze flicks once more to Rebella. She tilts her head, a knowing expression on her face. What she thinks she knows, I can’t possibly discern.
James returns his attention to me, his voice unexpectedly hard now. “So you have chosen to forgo limitless power—power that would allow you to claim the Nostra Empire without a fight—because it would mean the death of your…” He falters. “What is the keeper to you?”
Friend. Enemy. Lover. Confidant.
Wild, dark presence in my life.
A good person caged for the survival of others.
My own personal monster.
I breathe out. Then in. The same way I saw the crimson wolf do in the forest of Portland.
But no matter how hard I try to calm my response, all I can do is snarl. “That’s none of your fucking business.”
“I see.” James remains grim. “Then you’re correct: the patient knife is no longer an option. You must cut Taiven off at the knees. Swiftly, decisively, and publicly.”
“How do I do that?” I ask, mentally noting the distinction between killing my father and bringing him to his knees.
For a moment, darkness flashes within James’s eyes, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the possibility that an entire world exists within his mind. The mind of the World Serpent is constrained within this living body.
“In a fight you must win on your own, Veda,” he says. “You must fight without your pack. Without backup. Since you have chosen to forego the power we all fear, you must prove that you are just as formidable without it. No matter what, it must be a definitive kill.”
“Who?” I push. “If not my father, who do I need to kill?”
James pauses before he says, “The gargoyle king.”
I don’t hesitate.
“Gladly,” I snarl. “That’s the clan that betrayed Lucian’s mother.”
James nods. “The very same. I didn’t think you’d have a problem with it. Their leader calls himself a king, but he doesn’t have a shred of royal blood in his body. It was Lucian’s mother who carried that line, descended from the last gargoyle queen—Queen Incorruptible—herself. It was why Taiven wanted her.”
Well, it’s no fucking wonder Anarchy was so delighted to lick up Lucian’s blood if it’s royal.
I can’t stop my teeth from sharpening. “Tell me about this false king.”
“His name is Gregor Stonne. He has proven very difficult to kill, primarily because of your father’s protection. But he will be vulnerable for the first time tonight.”
I jolt a little. It’s sooner than I thought it’d be. “How so?” I ask. “If he’s so hard to kill, suddenly making himself vulnerable seems out of character.”
“It is.” James nods emphatically. “But you disappeared for two weeks, and your father’s search has turned up empty?—”
