“Come on, Lucian.” I press my lips to his curls, between his ears. “You can help me be king today.”
“But,” Mara murmurs again, already half-gone, her hand brushing my arm before it falls away.
I’m out the door before she finishes the word, my son drooling contentedly on my collarbone.
Ellie’s coming down the hall toward me, and I lift my chin at her. “Morning, Ellie.”
She stops and bows her head, and when she straightens she doesn’t saymy lord. She says, “Aaron.”
I about trip over my feet. Six months I’ve been begging this woman, and there it is, dropped into a hallway.
“I was just coming to send for you,” she goes on, fighting a smile. “You’ve got a guest. In your study.”
“This early?” I shift Lucian higher. “Who?”
“A vampire.”
That stops me. “Is it Kade?”
Ellie shakes her head, and I’m already running back through the short list of anyone who’d dare it. “Then what vampire just strolls into the Glen uninvited and—“ I stop. There’s only one I can think of who’d manage it, and the tension goes right out of me.
Ellie’s already wiggling her fingers at Lucian, reaching. I hand him over slower than I need to.
“I wanted some father-son time today,” I tell her.
“And you’ll get it.” She tucks him into the crook of her arm, and the traitor goes without a fight. “Let me get him bathed and into clean clothes first. He smells of sour milk.”
I look at my son one more time—that small face, those serious dark eyes blinking up at me—then I groan and let him go and start jogging down the stairs.
I find Josiah in my study, standing in front of the painting.
He’s waving at it. Little fingers opening and closing. “Hi, Eric,” he’s saying, pleasant as anything. “I know you’re in there. I do hope you’re enjoying watching your grandson grow up into everything you’ll never get to touch.”
“How’d you know he’s in there?”
Josiah shrugs, one shoulder. “I know a Dorian Gray when I see one.”
That pulls a snort out of me. “You’re ridiculous, Jo.”
He turns, and those red eyes warm when they land on me. “Hi, brother.”
I cross the room and pull him into a hug, clapping him on the back. “Hey, Jo. What’s up?”
“Oh, not much.” He steps back, hands sliding into his pockets. “Still hunting Henry. He’s slippery.”
“Still can’t find him?”
“I will.” No doubt in it. “Soon. But that’s not why I came.” Something passes over his face, and the easy goes out of it. “There’s something wrong with Queen Anora.”
I give him a strange look. “Anora?”
“She has a dark prophecy hanging over her. You knew that.” He tilts his head. “She’s born of dark magic, Aaron. I’ve been wondering how long a soul can carry that much before the weight of it caves them in.”
“I know it.” I move to the hearth and bring up a flame with a thought, mostly to have something to do with my hands. “Dark magic, what it does to a witch or a warlock. There’s a despair that comes off it, this bottomless thing, and underneath, it’s sweet. That’s the trap. It’s a drug, Jo. Taste real power like that, and the part of you that wanted to be good starts negotiating.”
“I understand madness.” Josiah says it simply. “I still live in it. Every day. So believe me when I tell you Anora is going to be a far bigger problem than Henry ever was. And she’s going to be it soon.”
I turn it over, and it lines up into something ugly. “Is that why Amir’s been so eager to hand down his throne? He’s not tired of ruling. He’s trying to get out from under her before the prophecy comes due.”
