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Jonas sat a while, absorbing that, while I tidied up the rest of Niall’s mess. “If I understand you correctly,” he finally said, “the vampires consider you Lord Mircea’s servant, almost his property.”
There was no “almost” about it, I didn’t say, because he looked ruffled enough. “In a sense,” I said, knowing where this was going.
“And property is expected to work for the good of its owner, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“Then they believe they’ll control the office of Pythia!” he said, as if he’d suspected this all along.
I shrugged. “Probably.”
“And this doesn’t concern you?” he demanded, as outraged as if he weren’t planning to do the same thing himself.
“Jonas, I’m expected to work for the good of the family. Not the Senate.”
“And you really think they’re going to make that distinction? You think that Lord Mircea will make it?”
“I’ll make it.”
“And you believe you can divide your loyalties so easily?”
“Why not?” I asked, suddenly angry. “Every Pythia has had a family, hasn’t she?”
Jonas looked taken aback for a moment. “Well, yes. But this is hardly the same—”
“It’s exactly the same!” I thought of the vamp who’d had half his leg taken off last night. It would eventually grow back, but others hadn’t been so fortunate. One of Mircea’s older masters, a vampire named Nicu, had died protecting me barely a month ago, and Marco nearly had, too.
If that wasn’t family, I didn’t know what was.
“They’re my family,” I repeated flatly. “And I’ll treat them as such. But it doesn’t mean that I’m going to be the Senate’s happy little puppet.” Or the Circle’s.
Jonas looked far from satisfied. “That’s easy to say, but I think you may have more of a struggle establishing your independence from the Senate than you seem to think. But, in any case, we’re talking about appearances, not esoteric facets of vampire law. And the fact is that you . . . belonging . . . to a vampire, however you define it, is not going to sit well with the supernatural community as a whole.”
“So what do you expect me to do about it?” I demanded.
“I’m not saying don’t date the man, Cassie—”
“Then what are you saying?”
“Merely that it would be helpful if you were seen to be dating others, as well. A Were, perhaps, or a mage. It would make it far easier to sell the idea that your private life has little to do with your decisions.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t really know any—”
“I could send you some.”
I blinked. “Some what?”
“Some . . . suitors . . . if you will.”
“You could send me some suitors,” I repeated slowly, while outside, it sounded like someone was choking to death.
“You wouldn’t have to date any that you didn’t like, of course,” Jonas said, without the faintest hint of irony. “I could send a selection, and you could choose one.”
I had a sudden, crazy image of recruitment posters plastered on the walls at war mage central: BOYFRIEND WANTED. HAZARDOUS-DUTY PAY. Only it really wasn’t funny. Because I could see Jonas deciding that that was a perfectly reasonable way to proceed.
“Or you could choose two,” he said, warming to the idea. “A mage and a Were. Covering all the bases, so to speak.”
“How about half a dozen?” I asked sarcastically, only to have him blink.
