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“Say it.” The Kral Primus set down the glass with a soft thunk. “He was there to stake my boys.”
I darted a glance at Rafe. He looked as stunned as me.
“No,” I croaked.
“It’s true,” Karoly told me. “Rafael was still an infant, and my other boys were barely more than toddlers. Your father compelled a human servant to let him in the house. He was nearly to the nursery when I caught him.”
My chest seized. I turned to Victorine. “Is this true?”
She dipped her chin.
“You sent Mikhail, didn’t you?” ask Karoly.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“What do you mean?” I looked from my mother to Karoly. “What’s he talking about?”
Victorine’s expression appeared to have turned to marble. “We argued about it. Your father thought a treaty was the best way to end the feud. But I didn’t trust Karoly to keep his word. I convinced him that if we didn’t strike first, we’d lose you.”
“So,” I said between numb lips, “it’s your own fault Father was staked.”
“It was a mutual decision, but yes, I convinced him.” A trace of animation returned to her features. “The blood feud was bound to end with either me or you—or both of us—dead. Mikhail knew that. He did it to protect us. At the time, Karoly wasn’t willing to consider a peace treaty.” The look she sent him dripped venom.
“The hell I wasn’t,” he growled.
Rafe set a hand on my lower back and smoothly redirected the conversation. “I’m sure we all agree that a peace treaty is in our best interest at this point.”
“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “I meant what I said in the courtyard. Go after Rafe, and both the vampire and the human worlds will hear about your plot against the Kral brothers.”
“Agree,” Karoly murmured, “and perhaps we can reopen negotiations on that joint venture. I have some other ideas, too. Ideas that could make both syndicates a great deal of money. Think, Victorine. If you persist in this vendetta against my sons, I won’t rest until you’re in your final grave. But aside from that, the two of them have bonded. Zoe’s your only spawn. Kill her mate, and your bloodline will end with her.”
“She could mate with another man.”
Rafe snarled. “Try it. And you’ll see how long you live.”
Victorine eyed him coldly. She turned back to me. “You really want this dhampir?” She jerked her chin at Rafe.
I took his hand. “I do.”
She shook her head, and then suddenly, she deflated. Lines appeared at the side of her mouth. She looked every single one of her two-hundred-plus years.
“You’ll live in Montreal,” she said. “Both of you. Enough of this talk of defecting.”
My heart skipped a beat. I exchanged a look with Rafe.
“You accept Rafe as my mate?” I asked warily.
“Didn’t I just say so?” she asked irritably. “I’ll expect spawn. More than one. He’s a dhampir, after all. At least he can give you more than one child.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “Someday. But we’ll raise them as we see fit. And Karoly will be their primus—not you.”
“They’remybloodline,” she said.
“But I’m their mother,” I said. “And Rafe will be their father. You have to prove to both of us that we can trust you again.”
Victorine’s jaw worked, but this time, she didn’t try to force me to obey her.
Maybe she’d stay my prima, and maybe she wouldn’t—but either way, the balance of power had shifted in our relationship, and we both knew it. If she disagreed or tried to interfere after my children were born, I’d simply defect to the Krals.
