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“No. They won’t do anything except flap their jaws and ‘study the situation.’” The four of us drift into the nearby sitting room before I sink into a chair and regard Lucan. “We must take action. It’s time to find witches and wizards willing to work together for the greater good.”
“Magickind banding together, without arguing or infighting?” Lucan rears back skeptically. “You’re fantasizing, friend. That’s been impossible for…what, nearly four centuries?”
Sabelle nods. “Indeed. Where will you find the paragons with the necessary strength and resolve to fight a violent nutter like Mathias, willing to put aside resentment and strife? The last thing you need is to babysit prats more interested in killing one another.”
Anka nods. “My grandmother used to talk about the old days, when magickind had a sense of community, not jealousy and blind hatred.”
“I never said it would be easy,” I admit. “The rest of the Council still can’t see that their Social Order has backed the Deprived into a corner they’re willing to die—or kill—to escape.”
Lucan casts a quick glance at his petite wife, who nods. “Whatever you need, count me in. Mathias must be stopped. And we know from his last campaign that he’s devious and powerful, so defeating him will require extraordinary ability and a unified front.”
“Now there are two of you willing to defend magickind against him.” Sabelle conjures tea and pours everyone a cup. “Three, if you count me.”
“I don’t.” I glare my sister’s way.
She tsks. “But you are friends. Now you must look at acquaintances, strangers…and enemies. Who will you call upon next?”
“I’ll speak to Simon Northam,” I offer. “I suspect he would welcome such a conversation.”
“The Duke of Hurstgrove?” Lucan clarifies.
“Yes. Oh, quite.” Sabelle smiles pertly. “He shall do. Very nicely.”
Silently, I agree. Best not to let on just yet. Sabelle may smile sweetly now, but as head of our line, I alone have the power to approve or deny any mating she might consider. Unfortunately, rebellion is nearly her middle name. “For the cause, yes. For you, little sister? We shall see.”
Sabelle crosses her arms and glares.
Anka laughs and reaches up to plant a kiss on her husband’s cheek. “Finding the perfect mate is worth the wait. Believe me.”
Lucan turns to his bonded female, and his hard eyes soften as he lifts her knuckles to his lips. The love between them is tangible. I envy my friend’s good fortune.
“Assuming Hurstgrove is willing to help, that’s merely three of us. Who else could we approach?” Lucan asks. “The Wolvsey twins? They look hearty enough. Good bloodline.”
Sabelle laughs. “You’re kidding, right? Ronan and Raiden are lovers, not fighters. They spend all their time sowing their oats at some human pub called the Witch’s Brew.”
“They’re dishy…” Anka sighs, then giggles at her mate’s scowl. “But no one is more devastatingly handsome than you, my love.”
“Too right,” Lucan quips. “Still, despite their reputation, the twins might be worth a think.”
I nod. “I’ll drop into the pub soon and have a chat. Take their pulse, as it were.”
Lucan sends Anka a mock glare. “If you persuade them to join, keep them away from my mate.”
As Anka laughs again, Sabelle regards me. “Who else? I know that expression. You’re thinking something you’re not saying.”
She’s right, and my choices are bound to be unpopular. “Isdernus Rykard.”
My sister nearly chokes on her tea. “Are you off your trolley?”
Lucan gapes. “My question exactly. With the bad blood between you, that idea is completely mental.”
“He isn’t insane.” At least not entirely.
Sabelle arches a pale brow. “From the time I wore lace on my knickers, I’ve heard nothing about Ice, except that he’s unhinged. And violent. He despises you.”
“It’s mutual.”
“Whenever he’s around, you have the self-control of a rabid animal,” Lucan points out. “That won’t be good for the cause.”
