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Damon shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he wants nothing more than to piss his father off.”
I glanced at him as the computer began downloading e-mail. “But you don’t believe that.”
“No.” He rose from the chair and walked over, stopping just behind me. His scent filled every breath, warm and delicious, making me tingle inside and out. “If they were only after land, they could have gone anywhere. There’s more to this than we’re seeing.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Like what?”
He shrugged and raised a hand, lightly running his fingers through my hair—which we’d dyed red when we first arrived at the apartment. I rather liked it, but Damon seemed to prefer my natural color. He was a man of strange taste.
“Think about it,” he said softly. “Julio hears rumors of a plot against the kings. Shortly after, his son—whom he named as his heir—is killed, and two large draman towns near clique grounds are wiped off the map. Now there’s news of Hannish Valorn suddenly returning.”
“We have no proof of a connection between Hannish’s return and the possible landgrab.”
“No, but it is logical, especially if Hannish is behind it all.”
“I’m still not understanding why.”
“Nevada is the smallest clique, landwise, and as such, has less say in the council.”
He said it patiently, like he were talking to a child, and it rankled. But I guess he had no idea just how little I knew about the inner workings of the dragon world. “I thought all kings were created equal?”
He snorted. “They might present a united front but, trust me, the council is ruled by territory. Why do you think the head of the council is usually from Montana, Wyoming, or North or South Dakota?”
Because they were the biggest cliques, obviously. “But Hannish has been cut off by his dad, so how would buying the land help the Nevada clique?”
“He might have been disowned, but officially he is still listed as the heir. So if something happened to Marcus, Hannish can step right into his shoes.”
I twisted around to stare at him. “Surely he wouldn’t kill his own dad?”
His smile touched his dark eyes and made them sparkle like diamonds. My heart did an odd little dance and desire stirred low down in my body. “Dragons have a long history of brothers killing brothers to claim the throne. In this case, Hannish’s only competition is the dad who disowned him. I don’t think he’ll have many qualms.”
“Wow. That’s pretty cold.” I clicked Leith’s e-mail as it came in, then added, “But what about the council?”
“If it’s done right, the council will have no choice but to accept the situation.”
“I still can’t see the twelve other cliques standing by and allowing someone like Hannish to make a landgrab and take over the council. Especially if they suspect Hannish took out his dad to get to the throne.”
“There is precedent for it. How else do you think Monta
na became one of the largest cliques?”
I shook my head in disbelief. But then, why I was surprised when I knew from experience just how cold and bloody-minded some dragons could be, I have no idea.
The pictures attached to Leith’s e-mail opened up. The first man appeared a few years older than me, and had dark red hair and a somewhat angular face. His blue eyes had a look that I’d seen a hundred times before—cold, inhuman, impassionate. A dragon who considered himself well above the rest of us.
I didn’t know him, but I knew the look. I’d seen it a thousand times in Seth’s eyes.
The other man had small brown eyes and a pinched, gaunt face. Recognition stirred, and so too did the ghost of fear. I might not recognize the name, but his face—although changed by time, weather, and what looked like repeated beatings—was certainly familiar.
“That one,” Damon said softly, pointing to the red-haired man, “is Hannish. I’m not sure about the other man.”
“His name when I knew him was Leon, not Jake.” I glanced over my shoulder and met his gaze. “And his best friend and lover was Seth.”
“From the fear I can taste, I take it Seth and Leon were the dragons who made your life so unpleasant?”
“Yes. And if Leon is involved, then Seth will be. The two are inseparable.” He might even be this Franco no one had a photo of.
Damon linked his fingers together and stretched them forward, cracking his knuckles. “It will be my very great pleasure to meet them both.”
