Chapter 30

30

"I think your queen misses her coven," Harmann remarked when Emma had been at Kinevane for her second week.

"Aye, I gathered as much," Lachlain said, glancing up from papers strewn all about his desk. Missing her family was a damper on her happiness, but one soon rectified. As would be her marked dread of meeting other Lykae. She'd told him she was "shooting one in three with Lykae" and "wouldn't take that to the track." They were arriving in just days. "But what makes you say that?"

"She dragged a maid into her drawing room to play video games. Then they painted each other's toenails. Blue."

He leaned back. "How'd the girl react?"

"Scared at first, but growing more comfortable. They all are. She could actually win them over." With a proud smile, he confided, "She calls me Manny."

Lachlain grinned.

"She didn't ask me to do impressions." Harmann frowned to himself, and muttered, "They always ask me to do impressions."

"Does she have everything she needs?" he asked, though he knew she was growing content. When happy, she'd sing absently. Oftentimes, he heard her voice lilting up from the " lunarium," as she called it, while she tended her garden. He wondered if she liked the jasmine better than the jewels.

"Oh, yes. She's, uh, quite the talented, efficient, and, dare I say, aggressive shopper."

Lachlain had noticed her purchases and suspected he stood taller now that she was filling their home with things she liked, making it her own. He found it deeply satisfying to see it taking shape.

Did he even pretend to know why she needed hundreds of bottles of nail polish? No, but he liked that when he kissed her wee toes, he never knew what color they'd be.

For his part, Lachlain was healing, feeling stronger every day. His leg was nearly back to normal and his power was returning. His own sense of contentment—even in light of everything that had happened—was shockingly strong. And it was all because of her.

The only damper on his happiness was the fact that he would soon leave her, which was unbearable in itself, but she'd begun insisting on going with him. She'd told him that she would fight by his side and "not let all this considerable badassness go to waste," or she would return to her coven.

She refused to remain behind at Kinevane. He knew he could talk her from her ultimatum. Surely, she could be brought to see things logically. Yet every day as she got stronger, he was a bit less confident. If she remained resolved in this, his choices would be to give up his revenge or possibly lose her to her coven. Both were unimaginable.

He and Harmann finished speaking of some other business details, and shortly after the steward scuttled off again, Bowe rapped on the door.

"You know where the scotch is," Lachlain said .

Bowe had apparently just come from the kitchen and was licking his thumb of something sweet-smelling on his way to the bar. When he poured one for his host, Lachlain emphatically shook his head.

Bowe shrugged and lifted his own. "To creatures that are other. " He seemed almost... not in evident pain.

"They do make life interesting."

"Aye. I spotted her tending her plants downstairs. When I saw you'd claimed her, I was glad for you." After a swig, Bowe observed, "You marked her a bit... hard, did you no'?"

Lachlain scowled.

"By the way, do you know what ‘heroin chic' is? She said I should be aware that it's so last year." When Lachlain shrugged, baffled, Bowe turned serious. "The elders want to know what happened to you. Have been pestering me."

"When they come here, I'll tell them everything. I need to anyway so we can begin this."

"You think it wise to leave her so soon?"

"No' you, too," he snapped.

"Just want it noted that leaving her behind is a risk I myself would no' take. And they've no' found Garreth anyway."

Lachlain ran a hand over his face. "I want you to go to New Orleans. Find out what the hell is going on."

"Have to check my schedule." At Lachlain's look, he said, "All right. Leaving in the morning. Now, would you like to read the latest in vampire intelligence?" He tossed a file on the desk. "Courtesy of our cousins, Uilleam and Munro."

Uilleam and Munro MacRieve were twin brothers and two of Lachlain's oldest friends. He'd been pleased to hear they were doing well, though both still had not found their mates. Probably a good thing for Munro, since ages ago a clan seer had predicted he would have a harridan for himself.

Lachlain scanned the file, astonished by the developments within the Horde in the last hundred and fifty years.

Kristoff, a rebel vampire leader, had taken Mount Oblak castle, one of the five Horde strongholds. Lachlain had heard rumors of Kristoff, had heard he was Demestriu's nephew. Now members of the clan had uncovered the entire story.

Kristoff was the rightful king of the Horde. Days after he'd been born, Demestriu had attempted to have him killed. Kristoff had been smuggled out of Helvita, then raised by human guardians. He'd lived among them for hundreds of years before learning who he truly was. His first rebellion had been seventy years ago and had ended in failure.

"So the legend of the Forbearers is true?" Lachlain asked. They were not merely abstainers. The Forbearers were Kristoff's army, an army he'd been secretly making since antiquity.

"Aye, he's created them from humans, stalking battlefields for the bravest warriors who'd fallen. Think of it, you're a mortal lying in the dark nearly slain—I'd consider that a bad day—and then a vampire appears, promising immortality. How many really listen to the conditions of his dark offer—eternal life for eternal fealty ?"

"What's his agenda?"

"No one knows for certain."

"So we canna predict if Kristoff will be worse than even Demestriu."

"Is it possible to be worse than Demestriu? "

Lachlain leaned back, mulling possibilities. If this Kristoff had taken Oblak, then he'd want the royal seat of Helvita as well. Kristoff might get to Demestriu before Lachlain could.

Yet there was another twist. Oblak had been the hold of Ivo the Cruel, the second in command of the Horde. For centuries, he'd had his sights on Helvita and the crown, and he'd apparently survived the taking of his castle. Robbed of his own holding, he must be aching for Helvita. Would he make a play for it, even knowing the Horde had never recognized a leader without royal blood?

Three unpredictable powers, three possibilities. Ivo's vampires were stalking Valkyries all over the world, searching for one among them, but was Ivo doing Demestriu's bidding or acting alone? Would Kristoff take the offensive and seek out the Valkyrie target who was clearly so important to the Horde?

Despite speculation, no one could say with certainty who this person was.

Lachlain feared he knew. One or even more of these factions were searching for the last female vampire.

***

That night Emma lay under Lachlain's arm as he slept. He held her like a vise, as if he dreamed she was leaving him. When, in fact, he was going to leave her. Uneasy, she ran one fang along his chest and lapped for comfort. He groaned softly.

After kissing the mark she'd drawn from, she drifted into a fitful sleep full of dreams.

In one, she saw Lachlain's office from his eyes. Harmann stood at the door with a pensive expression, clipboard in hand .

Lachlain's voice rang in her head as though she were there: "There's no chance of it, Harmann. We will no' have bairns."

Expeditious Harmann had wanted to make preparations for the arrival of children. "If you have vampire little ones, they will need special amenities. We can't begin preparing soon enough." He'd appeared anxious, as though already behind.

Lachlain believed he and Emma would have had incredible children— brilliant lasses with her beauty, and braw, wily lads with his mettle.

He might have felt a whisper of regret, but then he pictured her upstairs sleeping in his bed. He imagined how she would sigh in contentment when he joined her, and how he could coax her to take blood from his neck.

She'd never known this—why was he doing it?

She heard his thoughts: Must make her stronger.

When he watched her sleeping, he often thought, My heart lies vulnerable outside my chest.

Emma flinched with shame. Her weakness made him worry about her constantly, so much that it made him ill sometimes. He was so strong, and she was a liability.

He hadn't told her he loved her, but his heart hurt—she felt it—with love for her, for his Emmaline.

Children? He would give up anything for her.

Could he give up his revenge? If he did, he would become a shell of himself....

The dream changed. Lachlain was in a dark, foul place that smelled of smoke and sulfur; his body was a knot of agony that she felt. Two vampires with red, glowing eyes stood before him. He tried to stare his enemies down, but he could scarcely see from his own battered eyes. The vampire with the shaved head was Ivo the Cruel. The blond, tall one was... Demestriu.

Emma tensed at the sight of him. Why did he seem familiar to her? Why did he gaze into Lachlain's eyes as though he were seeing... her ?

Then came the fire.