She glanced over her shoulder. “I guarantee you won’t.” Then she refocused on the Nine.
He bit back a grin. Such an impressive spirit.
Yet the woman had been injured, and held captive by a mineral that drained her resources. She further depleted herself by sending him as much power as she could muster, when he most needed it. She wasn’t prepared to do battle. . . and if the energy swirling around the room provided any indication, a fight was coming.
Brigid cleared her throat, her gaze thoughtful on her seventh daughter. “Moira? Why Grace?”
Conn stepped forward. Not by a hair did she acknowledge his support, turning her focus on Councilwoman Sadler. “She was working with Trevan.”
Vivienne stood. “You’ve acquired proof of this accusation?” Her voice echoed throughout the chamber with anger and incredulousness.
“No direct proof. But I’m right.” Moira straightened her shoulders further, her gaze never leaving Grace’s. “And Grace knows it.”
Grace snarled a smile. “You’re crazy, Seventh. You don’t hold proof because there isn’t any. He kept me locked up with a collar, too. My skin is bruised, too. When the time came, the vampires rescued me just like you.” She smoothed her hair back into the tight bun she’d donned earlier. “I think you were more affected by the ordeal than you believe.”
“Thanks for the concern.” Moira took another step closer to the dais. “Your bruises are too recent and your green strip not nearly as thick or deep as Brenna’s. Yet you were taken first.”
All gazes turned toward the councilwoman flushing a mottled red. “Your accusations are unfounded, and as you admitted, you lack evidence.”
Moira smiled. “I’m not asking for your resignation. Nor am I directing the matter to the enforcers.” She reached down and carefully rolled up one sleeve of her dark shirt. “What I am doing is challenging you for your seat. As such, I need neither proof nor foundation.” Finished, she quickly rolled the other. “Either step down, or prepare to get your ass kicked.”
Her mother leaned forward. “Moira. Make very sure you know what you’re doing.”
The concern from Brigid made the area on the back of Conn’s scalp itch. Grace stood, a shimmer of dark warning dancing on her skin. “I’ve been on the Nine for nearly a thousand years, you irritating chit. I have more power in my left hand than you do in your entire body.”
“Well then.” Moira’s hands relaxed to rest by her sides. “I take it you accept the challenge.”
Grace whirled to face Brigid. “Talk to your daughter. I’ll destroy her.”
Brigid glanced at Moira and then back to Grace. The moments ticked by. Brigid’s shoulders lifted. “My daughter knows what she’s doing. I suggest you step down and give the enforcers time to investigate you. This path, you’ll lose everything.”
Moira’s stance didn’t alter in the slightest. But Conn felt the wave of relief and strength that shot from her when Brigid backed her play. He was feeling anything but relief. The dents and scars littering the ancient rock walls now made sense—incredible damage from fighting with quantum physics. The thought that such a weapon would be turned on his mate rolled something dangerous to heat in his gut. In his soul.
“King Kayrs, thank you for joining us today.” Vivienne exhaled loudly.
Dage nodded. “Of course. I’ll be in touch regarding the training schedules for your soldiers.” The screen went dark.
Viv paused, her gaze remaining on the blank wall. “I don’t recall agreeing to that.” She shook her head, turning to face Grace. “We’ll worry about training later. For now ... Grace Sadler, you have been challenged for your seat by Moira Dunne. Do you accept said challenge or do you wish to terminate your involvement with the Coven Nine?”
Grace’s eyes flashed black, and her chin lifted with an anticipatory smile. “I accept said challenge.”
Conn began to step forward, stopped by his mate’s hand on his arm. Concern flowed through him as he stared down at her. She kept her gaze straight ahead, her eyes clear, her shoulders calm.
Vivienne nodded. “So be it.” She grabbed a thick scroll from under the desk, leaned down, and began scribbling. Finally, she lifted her head, gesturing toward the row of seats made out of rock. “Those here shall sit in witness of the proclamation as we set the rules.”
Kell and Brenna immediately crossed the room and took their places in what Conn considered a jury box. Who knew the witches acted according to early Roman law?
Moira half turned toward Conn.
He shook his head. “No.”
Amusement lit her eyes along with her small laugh. “No choice for you, Kayrs. Time to trust.”
Trust, his ass. He didn’t like the idea of her agreeing to fight ... no matter that he’d be right next to her.
“I need to formalize my challenge.” She ran both hands up his arms to clutch his biceps. “We value our traditions, too. Please go sit as witness as we set the time and date.”
Conn frowned. “I’d prefer to stand right here.”
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I love you, Connlan Kayrs. You’re going to have to learn to trust me. This is the time when we talk. Later, well, later I’ll fight her.” Moira’s lids flipped open, revealing a darker green than he’d ever seen. Deep, mysterious, powerful.
His heart thrummed. The blood heated in his veins. Raw desire nearly crippled him. “Moira.” All sound faded away. The other people in the room disappeared. For one second, she was the only thing in his entire universe.
A flush crept along her skin. Ancient power crackled through the air. She released him. “Let’s get this over with. We can argue about the actual fight later. For now, just the words need to be said.”
Everything in him vibrated with the right to stand in front of her. With rough hands, he grabbed her and crushed his mouth to hers. So many feelings, so many plans. He took, his lips unrelenting on hers, his tongue sweeping her mouth. Mine. Only when she shuddered against him, her body submitting to his, did he release her. He steadied her until she could meet his gaze. “I’ll sit and witness the actual words, Dailtín. No promises when the time comes to fight.”
Knowing the witches, they planned these things down to the last second ... and he had months, maybe years, to properly train her.
She smiled. “Fair enough.”
Conn pivoted on his heel, stalking over to drop into a chair next to Kell. It squeaked under his weight.
Vivienne raised both hands in the air. “The Coven Nine acknowledges the challenge and acceptance. A fight for the coven seat shall commence.” Reaching for a burnished teakwood gavel, she lifted it, and crashed it down on the stone desk with a resounding crack!
Without warning, a shimmering wall of power rose up between all spectators and the two witches vying for the seat. Conn jumped to his feet with a growl of outrage, fists smashing into the wall. A zap of electricity knocked him back into his chair. Fury ripped through him so fast his breath heated. The wall curved, extending to cover the council members as well.
Brenna cleared her throat. “Coven law dictates when a challenge is accepted, the fight commences immediately.”
He turned on her. “Moira knew this?”
Brenna paled, the green around her neck nearly glowing against her skin. “Yes. The divider is absolute and ancient—put in place so we can’t jump in and help. There are often family members fighting for a seat on the Nine.”
Conn turned to study the shield. The opaque surface shimmered and moved as if alive. His mate stood facing him, an apology in her eyes. The woman had known and lied to him. “Moira.”
Brenna sighed. “She can’t see or hear you, Conn. You need to sit down. There’s no way inside.”