His smile was arrogant. Overconfident. It had been his downfall once before—and would be again, hopefully. “Hannish was foolish enough to believe it was better to let the two of you wander around aimlessly, but he doesn’t know your tenacity like I do.”
I briefly closed my eyes. One death stood between me and saving Rainey’s soul. I didn’t have to kill Hannish—didn’t have to kill a king’s son.
Only Seth, who might also be a king’s son, but as far as I knew, he wasn’t heir—even if he intended to be.
Seth added, “Of course, I did have to reprimand him for not checking that both of you were dead.”
“Which you no doubt enjoyed doing.” My smile was just as cruel and harsh as his. “But I bet you didn’t enjoy it half as much as we enjoyed killing his fire, breaking his body, and then flying him out to sea to drown.”
The barb hit home. His eyes narrowed fractionally and his anger stirred the air. Most people might have missed the signs, but I knew this man very well.
And he had cared for Leon, although he would never admit it. They weren’t mates in the soul-mate sense of the word, but as bisexual males who didn’t really care where they took their pleasure from, they’d been enjoying each other’s company for most of their lives.
“That,” he said heavily, “was a mistake on your part. I might have let you live otherwise.”
I snorted softly. Given our past history, I was never likely to believe that. “I’m sure Leon’s ghost will be pleased to see how badly you’re taking his death.”
He shrugged, a seemingly casual movement that was oddly edged with anger. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made if we wish our plans to come to fruition.”
Meaning that, even though he cared for Leon, not even the man who’d been his lover for over twenty years was going to get in his way.
“Of course,” he continued, “now that I have decided to kill you, I shall insure your death is a long and painful one. He’d appreciate that.”
I’m sure he would. “Was Leon aware that he was bait?”
“Of course. But he was extremely confident in his ability to handle the muerte.” His gaze pinned me. “Tell me, where exactly did you dump him?”
“That, I can’t say. I can’t fly, remember?”
“Ah, yes. It was such fun prodding Waylin to drop you mid-flight. A shame your brother intervened.” His voice was almost philosophical, yet the anger remained, burning deep in his eyes. “I shall try to retrieve Leon. He was a good lieutenant. Hell, I might even try and save his soul, once we kill the muerte.”
There was nothing I could say that wouldn’t actually get me into more trouble, so I kept my mouth shut and my arms crossed. They couldn’t see my hands and didn’t know that the heat I’d stolen now burned in readiness. I could protect myself if I needed to.
But I was no longer alone in this battle.
Damon was out there and on the move. The awareness of his presence was a distant but ever-strengthening song that made my inner dragon want to dance.
Seth glanced briefly at his watch. “As much as I’m enjoying reliving old times, I really need to get moving. Tomi, if she moves, shoot her.”
Shoot her, not kill her, I noted. But Seth was like that. Maiming always seemed to taste better to him than actual death. “Why am I here, Seth?”
“Two reasons,” he said, almost cheerfully. “First, you’re bait for the muerte.”
I laughed. “If you think Damon will go out of his way to save my butt, you’re chasing down the wrong street.”
“Maybe, but I do think he’d go out of his way to find the leaders of this little operation, and here I am, in a nice little package.”
“And if you think he’s dumb enough to simply walk into a trap, you’re deluded.”
“We caught him once, dear Mercy, and I believe we can catch him again.”
I didn’t. And we’d see soon enough which of us was right.
“So, just how do you plan to take over the Jamieson clique? Because that’s you’re intention, isn’t it?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You know more than we presumed. Or did Leon talk too much?”
“Leon couldn’t do much of anything once we’d finished with him.” They weren’t wise words, but I couldn’t help the urge to bait him.
He merely smiled. It was a cold, cruel thing, and a chill ran down my spine. “Those actions will haunt you when your time comes, Mercy.”
The chill increased. I ignored it, keeping my voice even as I said, “Our king is never going to name you heir.”
“Oh, but he already has. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
I frowned, and he laughed. “It’s always amusing how little you draman know about the culture you live in. Kings name heirs in legal documents kept in the council vaults. They are easy enough to access if you know the right people to bribe, and even easier to alter if you know a good forger.”
So one step in the plan was already completed. I wondered how much time our king had left; how much time Marcus Valorn had left. If we didn’t catch Hannish, he might yet go ahead with the plot, with or without the backing of the Jamieson clique. After all, we had no real evidence connecting him to any of this as yet.
But maybe Damon didn’t need it. Maybe Hannish would simply disappear again.
“So why kill the draman in Stillwater and Desert Springs? Couldn’t you have just relocated them?”
“They refused to sell their land.” He shrugged. “They paid the price for that refusal.”
“But why take that risk?”
He snorted. “What risk? Jamieson wiped out the Whale Point settlement years ago, and not one council member bothered investigating it.”
“You’re wrong. The council has been watching Jamieson—and our king—ever since.”
“Yeah? And done what, precisely?” His voice was mocking. “It was a draman settlement, like Stillwater and Desert Springs. We both know draman don’t matter.”
Well, he was at least right about that. “But how does killing them make anything any better? The land would be bequeathed to their heirs, not you.”
Seth raised an eyebrow. “Would you hang on to land on which your whole family had been slaughtered?”
The answer was no, and we both knew it. There would be too many ghosts living on this land for anyone with even a hint of dragon blood to remain.
I would feel them at night’s onset, because the time between day and night gave every dragon power, even those caught between worlds, but I wondered if Seth would. Could someone who appeared to have no connection to life really be aware of those who lingered in death?
My gaze flickered past him, studying the view beyond the fridge’s doorway. Flags of red and gold were beginning to tint the horizon, meaning the night and the shadows would soon be gone. If Damon was going to make a move, then he’d better do it soon.
I met Seth’s gaze again. “So you simply stepped in and bought the land from the surviving heirs? Where the hell did you get that sort of money? And how can you even sleep at night?”
“We have our backers, Mercy, and I sleep very well, trust me.”
Of that I had no doubt. A man so out of touch with anything resembling humanity wasn’t ever likely to be attacked by guilt. “Even so, you can’t possibly think the other cliques are going to let two murderers usurp the council.”
“Oh, but they already have. I’m sure the muerte has already mentioned Montana. It set a precedent—one the current kings will sorely regret.” His smile was cold and arrogant. “Our king’s succession document is not the only one that has been changed.”
So Damon’s guess had been right. This was about taking over the council. “The council knows about the plot. You won’t succeed.”
He gave me a condescending smile. “If the council knew, the muertes would have been unleashed and we would be dead. No, this will be done properly, the deaths will all take time and look accidental, and no one will be the wiser. Not until it is far too late, anyway.”