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Garrick laughed in surprise, his incredulous smile fading as quickly as it arrived. “Never.”
“Really?” Lucas folded his arms, his hands slipping under the long sleeves of his robes. “They attacked the Lycan first. They started with infiltrating their packs aslook-alikewolves, then they attacked the Sentinelswith Tegan in iton their way to rescue the daughter of Cornelius’s most hated adversary…Salem.” Lucas sank into a chair as he thought about it. “Now the Vampyres, all of them are gone from our Houses. An army of Drakhyn sits outside, waiting for the signal to attack the Vampyres who are all gathered in one place, bar one that we know of.”
“The pack numbers are depleted, the Vampyres removed from our ranks and positions of power,” Garrick murmured thoughtfully. “He’s thinning the herd,” he said in alarm as he looked at Lucas.
“Cord is right, he does know where Alexander is.” Lucas looked at Garrick pointedly. “Why haven’t we realised before now what his plan is?”
“Because his prejudices and beliefs are so outrageous and…and…embarrassing, we turned a blind eye to them.” Garrick angrily paced the room. “And when allthisstarted, he sat back and watched it unfold. It couldn’t have worked out more perfectly for him.”
“We’ve played into his hands.” Lucas pulled his hood over his head. “I must relay what we know to Salem, he needs the Great Council to aid him.”
“Yes, go, I will tell the Mark.” Garrick stood and crossed the floor to the stairs. It hadn’t even been ten minutes, and he was going to have to admit to the young Akrhyn that once again he had been right after all.
* * *
Sloane had decided not to ask a Castor to transport him to his family home. The more he could delay getting there, the happier he would be. His father had guessed his intention though, and a car had been sent for him. A polite admonishment from his father, telling him without words, that he recognised his need to rebel the order to come home, but home was exactly where he was going. It didn’t matter how he got there, that was his destination.
Sloane’s head was tipped back on the headrest, his eyes closed as he considered the wordhome. Home was not where his mother and father were, or indeed his ancestors. Home was where he felt welcome, and there was only one place in Sloane’s life where he had felt truly accepted for who he was. The Northern Headquarters.
Salem treated him like he was his own son, and that was something that Sloane had lacked growing up. Cornelius was only interested in Cord, and Sloane readily accepted that. Cord was special, everyone knew it; he was faster, stronger and better than everyone around him. On the rare occasions their mother did talk about her late husband, Olezka, Sloane understood that Cord’s father had been the same. Extraordinary. It was no shock to Sloane at all that his brother had been honoured with the Mark of Velvore. Yes, he was arrogant, and yes, he was at times barely tolerable, but Cord possessed what few others did. Balance.
He could make the hard decisions without it weighing too much on his conscience. At his father’s ball when the Drakhyn attacked and Cord was faced with the choice, kill seven Akrhyn to save a hundred or try and rescue a few to let more die, Cord made the sacrifice, knowing it was the only way to save them. Hunting rogue Lycan that were actually Drakhyn in disguise, Cord did it even though he was accused of murder and workingwiththe Drakhyn. He had never defended his actions, knowing that his silence fuelled the rumours and speculation but enabled the greater good until it was time to reveal what was happening. Knowing that it hadn’t been the right time to protest his innocence. Trusting in the Ancients to watch over him…and if not the Ancients, at the least the Sisters. Bearing that burden quietly for the right reasons. Few would do that.
Sloane let out a long sigh and caught the eye of the driver, who looked at him questioningly. Giving him an easy empty smile, he looked out the window of the passing landscape. The woods had faded to towns, then cities, then countryside again. Their travel from Prince George had been smooth and easy, his father’s car providing him such a comfortable journey he didn’t feel like he was in a car.
Sloane’s mind once again wandered back to this evening. He had said his farewell to Michael, who was steadfastly refusing to accept that Sloane had to comply with his father’s summons and, in his anger, had disappeared into the library to find a loophole to the Law of Heir. Sloane had noticed Briony slip into the library not long after Michael and had not wanted to interrupt them. Their relationship was new and secret, so they thought anyway, and who was he to disturb young love?
Tegan was out on patrol, and where Michael loudly protested Sloane’s leaving, Tegan would simply have chained him in the dungeon. If she could have found a dungeon. Cord would probably have returned from Siberia forher. Sloane huffed out a laugh at himself, at his stab of jealousy. He had tried to call for his brother when he received his father’s summons. He knew there was nothing that Salem would be able to do to prevent him from leaving. Cord would have found a reason, but his brother never answered his call. Sloane accepted that. He actually felt a little silly for calling his brother in the first place. He was the Heir now, not Cord; itwastime to learn his place in the Ivanov House.
Resolved, he had been ready to leave and debated about seeing Michael again. Instead, he had left him a rather hasty note and one for his cousin. He had been at the top of the stairs when he had looked down the hall to the family quarters. Therewassomeone he needed to see before he left. He had hesitated at Commander Bryce’s family suite, but he had carried on. With a moment of doubt, he paused and then knocked on her door.
“Oh.” Zahra looked around him in confusion before she looked up at him, her brown eyes questioning. Her hair was damp, and her clothing suggested she had been getting ready for bed. She had been eating in her rooms, avoiding everyone, although Sloane knew that Salem had told her that was going to change.
“Can I come in?” he asked her quietly.
Zahra went to protest, tell him it wasn’t proper, and then remembered everything that had happened. With a derisive laugh at herself, she had opened the door wide and stepped aside. Sloane had seen her struggle and once again hesitated.
“I can stay out here, it is not right for me to be here at this hour.”
“Trust me, my reputation is already ruined,” Zahra scoffed as she gestured for him to come in. “What’s a male in my room going to do, make me a social pariah? Ship sailed.”
“That is not why I am here,” Sloane admonished her as he walked into her room, turning to her as she closed the door. “And even before this happened, no one would doubt my intentions.”
Zahra’s mocking smirk faded as she looked at him. He had always been tall, so tall and broad. Golden hair that shone in the sunlight like a halo. He wasgood, too good for her. “Of course, sorry.” As she sat on her bed, she drew her legs up to her chest. “What’s wrong?”
“My father has called me home.”
“Is your mother okay?” Zahra asked, and Sloane smiled at her concern.
“He has called me home as Heir,” he explained.
“Oh.” Zahra bit her lip as she watched him struggle to hide his disappointment. “I’m sorry.”
Sloane gave her a tight-lipped smile. He looked at the couch under her window and back to her with a raised eyebrow. When she nodded, he sat down.
“When do you need to leave?” Zahra asked him.
“Now.”
