“But he wouldn’t have tried that with one of them.”
I snorted. “Of course he would. They do this kind of thing all the time, testing each other, seeing if there are any chinks in the other person’s armor, any weaknesses that maybe they didn’t notice before. And if they find one, they’ll exploit it.”
“It sounds as if you’re talking about an enemy, rather than a . . . friend,” he said curtly.
I shook my head. “It’s part of the culture.”
“That doesn’t make it right!”
“It doesn’t make it wrong, either. It’s how they determine rank. If you knuckle under to some other master’s demands, especially without a fight, then you’re accepting that he or she outranks you. And afterward, everyone else will accept that, too.”
“But you’re not a—” Pritkin caught himself. “You’re not a master.”
“But I have to be treated as one.”
“Why?” He looked disgusted. Like the idea that any human might actually want to fit into vampire society was unfathomable. For a moment, I thought about telling him just how many humans were turned away each year by courts much less illustrious than Mircea’s. But somehow, I didn’t think it would help.
“Because there’s no alternative,” I said instead, as our artery-clogging pepperoni pizza was delivered. It was New York style, which meant the pieces were so big I had to fold one over to eat it, and a trickle of grease ran down my arm. I sighed happily.
Pritkin started working on his own meal, but to my surprise, he didn’t drop the subject. “Explain it to me.”
“There are only three types of . . . us . . . as far as they’re concerned,” I said, in between bites. “Servants, prey and threats. There’s no category for ally or partner, because that requires viewing us as equals, and they just don’t do that.”
“They are allied with the Circle, at least for the duration of the current conflict,” he argued.
“Yeah, well. Words have different meanings to different groups,” I hedged.
“And what does ‘ally’ mean to the Senate?” Pritkin demanded predictably.
I hesitated, trying to think of a phrase that wasn’t “cannon fodder.” “Let’s just say I don’t think that they’re planning on a real close association.”
“They had better be,” he said grimly. “We need strong allies. We have enough enemies.”
There was no arguing that.
“My point was that, right now, I’m seen as an especially useful servant, like the humans who guard their courts during the day or cast their wards for them. And as long as I follow orders, accept restrictions and do what I’m told, that’s how it’s going to stay.”
“Then defy them!”
I gestured around. “What does this look like?”
He shot me a look. “You’re eating pizza. That is hardly defiance.”
“It is by their standards.”
“I meant, get out.” He gestured sharply. “Tell them to go to hell. You could go—”
“Where?” I demanded. “To the Circle? Where who knows how many of Saunders’s buddies are still hanging around? To my lovely court?”
“You’re going to have to set up your court sooner or later.”
“Later, then. After the alliance.”
I reached for the grated cheese, and he frowned. But I guess my health wasn’t the cause, because what he said was, “What alliance?”
“Of the six senates? What Mircea’s been working on all month?”
“What does that have to do with you?”
I shrugged. “Having a vamp-friendly Pythia is the trump card in his argument. It’s something the vamps have never had. They’ve always felt like they were on the outside of the supernatural community, that the Pythia was part of the Circle’s arsenal, not theirs.”
“And now they think the opposite.”
“They’re coming around.” They knew Mircea. And when they looked at me, twenty-four and fresh off the turnip truck, I doubted they had any trouble believing that he could wind me around his little finger. That wasn’t a problem for me as long as it helped us get the alliance.
And as long as he didn’t start believing it, too.
“But if you were suddenly removed?” Pritkin asked. “If you were killed, for instance?”
I shook my head. “I know what you’re thinking, but that can’t be it.”
“Why not? You said it yourself—you are the only Pythia the vampires have ever felt was theirs. Your replacement would likely come from the Circle’s pool of Initiates—”
“Which wouldn’t make them happy. But they’re not talking because of me. They’re here because of the war and because Apollo showing up scared the shit out of them. I’m just something to sweeten the deal.”
“But if someone didn’t know them well enough to know that—”
“Then they wouldn’t know why they’re meeting in the first place. They’ve been using the coronation and some other stuff as cover while they hash out the details. Like who gets to lead—”
“And Mircea is attempting to use you as an argument for his consul.”
“ ‘Attempting’ would be the right word.”
Pritkin swallowed a bite of fatty goodness. “Why? You just said—”
“That I’m seen as a vamp-friendly Pythia, yeah.” I shrugged. “But it takes a little more than that. Half the senators aren’t convinced that I know what the hell I’m doing. It’s easy for them to imagine me being under Mircea’s thumb; it’s a little harder for them to believe I’m strong enough to be a real asset.”
“And without believing it, they’re bickering and feuding over leadership instead of doing anything about the war.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“Typical.”
I didn’t say anything; from what I’d seen, Circle politics were no different, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue about it. “Anyway, the point is that I’m better off where I am right now—”
“That’s debatable.”
“—but to be able to work with the Senate, I have to be accepted by them, and not as a servant. A servant takes orders; she doesn’t give them. But that’s sort of my job now, isn’t it?”
He looked at me with exasperated eyes, brilliantly green in the harsh lights of the diner. “The former holder of your office gave orders, and they were obeyed.”
“Were they?” I munched crust. It was slightly burnt on the bottom and chewy, with little dough bubbles here and there. Perfect. “How often did Agnes persuade the Senate to do something they didn’t want to do?”
“I’m sure there were any number of times.”
“Name one.”
He scowled.
“Yeah. They might have fiddled around a little, debating some issue they didn’t really give a damn about, and then let her think she’d had a victory. Particularly if they wanted something in return. But to actually give up part of their sovereignty to someone they viewed as being in the Circle’s back pocket?”
“The Pythia is supposed to be neutral.”
“Try telling that to a vamp.” I caught his hand as he reached for more red pepper flakes. “Seriously?”
“What?”
I nodded at his current piece of pizza, which was almost completely red—and not because of sauce. “You’re going to give yourself heartburn.”
“I don’t get heartburn.”
“What? Never?”
“No.”
I let him go. That was completely unfair. I ate antacids like they were candy.
“Anyway, we weren’t at war in Agnes’s reign, so it didn’t matter as much,” I said, digging a half-finished pack of Rolaids out of my shorts. “It does now.”
Pritkin cocked an eyebrow. “And you think that going out for the evening is going to make them respect you?”
“More than staying in would have.” I chewed a couple of tablets while he thought that over.
“It still sounds like something an enemy would do,” he said. “Pushing you, testing you—”
“An enemy would use the information to hurt me,” I pointed out. “Mircea would never do that. At least, he wouldn’t intend it that way. But burying me under a stack of guards, restricting who I can see, where I can go . . . it is hurting me.”
“It’s also safer,” Pritkin said, looking sour. Probably because he was being forced to agree with a vampire.