"I am disturbed by this turn of events. Events are on the verge of spinning out of control. Our numbers dwindle while the Sects multiply. The Guelph rise again and we were not able to foresee it. Humans become more skilled at destroying our kind. And to top it all, the Sects fear a killer in the shadows, a dark rider they cannot destroy."
"Do you believe it is a Reaver?" Like most of their kind, Thelerod was fair-skinned, almost pale. His golden locks shimmered and tumbled to his shoulders. But his eyes were those of a predator, his gracefulness intertwined with an aura of deadliness.
Alaric was silent for a moment. "I do not know. If the Guelph can return, who is to say a Reaver cannot? We shall find out soon enough. Ironic that it would appear in Leodia, where the Guelph tried to usurp the Kaerleon throne. We will direct the Information Ministers to focus their efforts in that region. It is imperative we find out what the Guelph's ultimate goal is."
He tapped his chin in thought. "So many problems, and we are stretched so thin."
"We must face the truth." Karalis was older than most of them. His silver mane had once been gold as well. But his face was unlined, his power still potent. "The day of the Co'nane is fading. These children are the future. We should have left this world when we had the chance. We have gained nothing by remaining here. Our existence is cursed, our days numbered."
The others frowned and lowered their heads, as unwilling as Alaric to admit to that. He steepled his fingers together and frowned in thought.
"I did not defeat Leilavin only to allow us to fall of our own accord. These children are barely above humans when it comes to self-preservation. They do not have the instinct for survival. They want everything at once — all the glory, all the power. They expose themselves to the humans and are hunted down and killed for it, then cry to us for protection. We set out for eternity never realizing we would create the arbitrators of our own extinction."
"If that is how it is to be, so be it." Serona's tone was almost playful. "We have lived by the creed of strength. If they prove to be the stronger breed, they should supplant us. It is the natural course, and our reward for weakness." Some of the others murmured agreement, but others frowned. Jacquelis regarded Serona with a jade-eyed stare that seemed to contemplate murder. She was Caretaker and took such comments personally.
Alaric shook his head. "Those sentiments sound like surrender, not acceptance." Serona always did believe strongly in fate, though. She felt it their destiny to resist the Aelon and remain in the human world. She would die believing fate had arranged for it to happen.
When Alaric spoke, his voice was rich with confidence. "I will not sit here and concede the defeat of my people before the battle has even begun. Give heed to my words. I will tell you my plans, and you decide for yourselves whether it is pleasing or not."
SOMETIME LATER, THEY adjourned. Whether it had been hours or days, he didn't know. Time was a factor for those mortal. A few were still unconvinced, but none could come up with a better solution. Alaric knew the outcome before he presented his words. A tainted drink was better than no drink at all if you were dying of thirst. Alaric watched the council depart, all the while separating the individual threads of the tapestry he sewed in his mind. The trick was not to get tangled in the process. So many angles to cover, but he was confident his people would pull together in the end.
Serona placed a hand lightly on his arm, disturbing his thoughts.
"Milord, I will away from the palace for a time. I have business to attend to."
He settled his gaze upon her. Not even Serona could meet his eyes for long, though once she could. That was before the Reavers; before he laid fingers on Mothros, the Soul Leech. For so long he was only a shadow of his former self, obsessed with finding a woman unborn, the young Shama who snatched salvation from his grasp. Now that the agonizing time was finally over, he was ready to make amends.
He just wasn't sure if she felt the same way.
"It may not be safe for you to run off on another of your mystery missions, Serona. What kind of business is it?"
"Business that will please you when I return." She offered her most beguiling smile. "And the only danger lies with any who cross me." She laughed, reaching up to stroke his cheek gently. "I will return to you soon, milord."
As they strode down the hall together, Alaric caught sight of Celestine at the end of the corridor. When they closed the distance, she fell to her knees.
"Your Majesty. Your Royal Highness. I know that you have been in deep council with the Consultium."
Alaric nodded. "Rise, Celestine. What is it that you want?"
She stood, but kept her eyes downcast. "If there is anything the Sects need to know, I would desire to hear of it."
Alaric opened his mouth, but was cut off by Serona.
"It is as you said, woman. Our council is the business of the Blood."
"What pertains to the Blood should be shared with the rest of the Sects." Celestine's voice faltered, as though she recognized her impertinence. "Milady."
"Perhaps you do not understand me." Serona's violet eyes smoldered when she directed a heated glance at Celestine. "It is the business of the Blood. You are not one of us, Celestine. Nor will you ever be, no matter how you try. Cease your fits of envy and be satisfied with the rank you have earned. Now leave us, child. You waste our time."
Celestine dropped her head in automatic obedience and turned to leave. But as if some uncontrollable force impelled her, she paused and whirled around. Her eyes shimmered with unchecked anger. "You are not worthy of your rank."
Alaric was surprised to hear Celestine's normally composed voice twisted with bitterness. He realized what rankled her. It must have stung to strive so passionately to imitate the Co'nane, yet never be included in their ranks. Celestine no doubt found it incensing to be forced to submit to the likes of Serona, who was never known for her self-discipline.
Celestine continued, forgetting herself in her anger. "You are not worthy of the Blood that runs in your veins. You are the Royal Consort, yet do not take your station seriously. You make a mockery of your position."
Alaric frowned. "That is enough, Celestine. Have you forgotten who you speak to?"
Celestine immediately bowed her head. "I misspoke, milord. Please forgive my impudence."
Serona slowly walked toward her, cool and unruffled. Alaric considered stopping her, but knew that she was within her rights. Celestine dared to disrespect one of the highest-ranking members of the Co'nane. Punishment was unavoidable.
Celestine kept her head downward in shame. Serona's fingers scrawled across her jaw and tilted her face upward. Celestine quivered in the unbreakable grip. A tear slid down her cheek despite her attempt to mask her fear, which was so potent Alaric could practically taste it. Serona's grip was just enough to avoid crushing Celestine's jaw. Her fingers raised crimson ridges against Celestine's pale skin.
"How sad." Serona actually managed to sound sincere. "You have spent ages trying to perfect yourself, to increase your Crafts, to add to your power. Trying to be me." Her face was only a hair's breadth away from Celestine's, their lips practically touched. "Take a good look. For this is as close as you will ever be to the Blood. You poor, silly child. This has nothing to do with being worthy, nothing to do with what you deserve. I am Blood by right of birth. It is my legacy, my inheritance. Understand that truth and accept it, or be crushed by it."