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“Go on then.” Lach nodded to the sluagh leader.
Duffy flushed, standing there with the box in his small hands. “You want me to give it to him?”
“If you’re scared, I’ll do it.” It was said with a harsh edge. Duffy wanted to be a warrior. A warrior should be able to handle the simple passing of a box.
The gnome’s face firmed into a stubborn pout. “I ain’t scared of nothing, Lach.”
He marched to the sluagh and held up his box. “Gifts from the princes.”
A wicked smile crossed the sluagh’s face as he opened the box. “Treasures. Come and take your part.”
The group descended like a pack feasting on a kill. There was shuffling and the pressing of shade to shade, but finally they broke up, each holding some small piece in their hands. And one by one they faded away until o
nly the leader remained.
“You are wise, King of the Dead.”
Lach shrugged. It had been a good bet he could thin the herd with a simple gift. “I listen to my people.”
“And they will listen to you.” The sluagh cocked his head, taking in Cian Finn. “I don’t like that one. Send him away.”
Cian. The Green Man. Light to his darkness.
“No.” Lach wouldn’t let a sluagh control this. If he was the King of the Dead, then he was king. He could feel his brother’s support. “The king stays. Now, sluagh, I’ve given you your gifts. I’ve allowed you to feel my power. Tell me your secrets. It’s why you’ve come.”
If there was one thing the sluagh loved more than small trinkets, it was secrets. They listened in, hiding always, to hear the great secrets of the planes, hoarding them like diamonds until the time was right to trade. And then they would whisper, a little touch here or there, sending one country into war and suggesting another go down a path that led to famine. Both would benefit the sluagh.
Lach knew he was walking along the razor’s edge.
“Torin is gathering power.” The sluagh waited.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Lach stood again, Shim at his side, moving as one. “Only today the Seelie kings have come with this news. This is nothing I can use. Be gone.”
He could feel the sluagh’s shock. “I have more, Your Highness.”
“Then you should tell me more or I will cast you from my kingdom.”
The sluagh frowned. “Fine. We have heard the plans of Torin and his hags. They mean to kill all the non-sidhe on their plane and then they will move on to this one. They will attempt to control the Vampire Council with fresh consorts, but each one will be spelled to turn on his or her master when the time is right.”
Beck Finn went white. “He’s promised a hundred consorts to the royals. He’ll bring down the whole plane.”
Dante Dellacourt stepped in. “The economic ramifications alone would destabilize us. You’re talking about the most powerful vampires on the plane. They control everything. And I doubt they’ll believe a damn thing I say. I became an outlaw the minute I chose to leave with Beck and Cian. Perhaps Julian could persuade them.”
His cousin looked thoughtful. “I can try, but my influence is small compared to how hungry the royals are for proper consorts. We age without consort blood. Look at Lach and Shim. Look at me. I’m fifteen years older and yet I look younger than them. This is a royal’s birthright, and for thirteen years, Torin has held us hostage. They won’t want to listen to reason.”
Lach turned back to the sluagh. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
The sluagh sighed, his whole form moving in a lazy wave. “There’s always more, Your Highness.”
A long pause. Bloody sluagh. “We’ll fill your bellies for a month.”
The ogre alone would keep the carrion eaters happy for weeks. Another could be found.
“More, Your Highness.”
There would always be more if he didn’t take a stand. The sluagh would be greedy.
Shim whispered, his hand cupping his mouth. “There’s a reason they’re here, Lach. And it’s not for corpses. They wouldn’t pick a side if it didn’t benefit them. Think on it. Devastating the Vampire plane would be good for the sluagh. The Unseelie falling would bring more than enough corpses to feed their armies. Why are they here, then?”
