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All the lights at Aconitum House are ablaze, and there are more vans lined up, with more thrall soldiers escorting more werewolves toward the doors.
“It’s a coup,” Julien says quietly. “Greater London has taken over.”
“Do you think so?” Father asks. He gazes out the window at a couple in evening clothes being marched up the steps.
“That’s Barbara and Thom,” Mother says. “They must have plucked them right out of the opera house.”
Every second that ticks by, it seems less and less likely that I’m here for my salvation. By the time the thralls lead us up the steps and into the entrance hall, I’m sure I’m here for something so much worse.
It’s surreal to walk past the stairway that leads up to the private residence. I’ve been here, in this house, naked and splayed out on the king’s sofa, and now I’m here as a prisoner. It’s bizarre. And I don’t like that all of the thralls around us are armed with guns. Visions of the Romanovs fill my head.
Nathan wouldn’t have me killed, I think, and then a moment later, why wouldn’t he? It’s not like he loves me. I don’t necessarily have any value; he wants to fuck me and thinks I’d be a good queen. That could probably be said of a lot of people in the pack.
Chairs are arranged in a semi-circle at the foot of the dais in the throne room. The thralls seat us in the front row, while more people fill in behind us. There are about five other families, but I don’t see the Daniels.
This isn’t about the mating pact.
This is something bad.
Then, beyond the doors, I hear Ashton’s father demanding, “Why are we here? You can’t just take us—” before a noise of wordless outrage as he and his wife are bodily pushed into the room. Ashton follows without resistance, and I turn my back before our eyes can meet. The sound of the throne room doors shutting behind us is so loud and final, I almost sob.
The same majordomo from the ball enters from a side door and announces, “His Majesty, King Nathaniel.”
When Nathan enters, he doesn’t look at me. I’m right in front of him, and he doesn’t look at me. All I can hold onto is the inexplicable pull between us, but even that seems diminished somehow.
Nathan sits on the massive throne as we all rise from our seats and bow or curtsey. A bored wave of his hand indicates we may be seated again, and he waits until we are before he starts to speak.
“I assumed that when you all knelt before me and swore your fealty to me and to your pack, you did so in good faith.”
My hopes plummet. What has my father, my entire family, done?
“I assumed that, like myself, you had nothing but reverence and respect for this pack, and a desire for its survival,” he goes on. “That you wished to heal from the actions of your deposed tyrant king and become a stronger pack despite his treachery.”
Father shifts in his seat beside me.
“Perhaps those assumptions were too optimistic.” Nathan pauses and I swear I can count the breaths of every person in the room. They’re all just as freaked out as we are.
“Julien Hart.” Nathan says my brother-in-law’s name like a death sentence. “Did you take a meeting with an ambassador from the Saint-Laurent council?”
My eyes widen as I look to my sister. Clare is just as shocked as I am, judging from the look on her face.
“I won’t deny it.” Julien lifts his chin, defiant. “There are no pack laws that forbid such meetings.”
“No, there aren’t,” Nathan concedes. “But it troubles me that this meeting took place in the human world, away from the eyes of the pack. Your wife was at the meeting, as well, was she not?”
Clare shakes her head vehemently. “No, Your Majesty, I never—”
“My wife was at lunch with her sisters,” Julien speaks over her.
The restaurant. That’s why Nathan was there that day. He was spying. And my sisters didn’t choose the restaurant because they were ashamed of me. They didn’t mind letting me believe that, but they were there because their husbands were there. They just didn’t tell me.
“Joshua Perdue, you arranged this meeting.” Nathan isn’t asking now. He’s accusing.
And just like Julien, Joshua doesn’t deny it. “I did. The ambassador is my cousin. We were having a friendly lunch.”
“A friendly lunch,” Nathan repeats back to him. “With an ambassador from the Saint-Laurent pack, your brother-in-law, your father-in-law, Stephen Daniels, Ashton Daniels, Jacob Wray…”
Nathan’s voice fades into a muffled roar in my head as he lists the names of the men who are guilty of… well, I don’t know. I was away from the pack too long to know much about current politics, but I do know that consorting with another pack, without the knowledge of the royal office, is very, very bad.
