Striding the length of the hall to the dais, he passed the tables of the Minor Coteries who, for the most part, had made alliances with the more powerful ones. Closer to the dais sat the doyens of the Counseling Coteries and their seconds. Depending on where the coterie’s doyen stood in
Regis’s
favor at the time would determine how close he or she was placed to the throne.
Nero, doyen of the Major Black Coterie and always
Regis’s
favorite, sat the closest.
Barna
, doyen of the Major Brown, was next.
Zenobia
, as expected, sat with her Second and Third and their mates as far away from Regis as possible without actually proclaiming that she’d been ousted from the Counsel. Her coterie wasn’t magically powerful, but it was large and Regis would be a fool to completely alienate her.
“Look who lived to fight another day.”
Zenobia
leaned back in her chair and traced the lip of her wine glass with her index finger.
“Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Hunter bit back a growl but still showed
a little teeth
. “I always have it in me.”
“Not from what I hear, Prince’s Assassin.”
She brushed a dark lock from her eyes toward the pile of black curls and braids cascading from her head down her back. Her enormous, almond-shaped eyes narrowed, drawing focus to how dark her irises were. “Even the best get tired every now and then.”
The nerve.
She was barely veiling her threats now. “I wouldn’t hold my breath on that.”
Who’s the bitch?
Anaea
asked. She sounded far away, as if she was peeking out of a crack in her mental box.
Top suspect for our current situation.
“I’m not so easily killed.”
Zenobia
swirled her finger in her wine then slid it into her mouth and sucked on it. “That’s what makes it so fun to watch.”
Someone’s soul needed collecting and writ or no writ, he was going to come calling soon. Trying to kill him or making a play for the throne was one thing. But breaking dragon law to create human mages went too far. Screw the
Asar
Nergal
taking care of it. This was personal.
He marched the remaining feet to the dais and eased into his seat beside
Regis’s
empty throne. The Prince wouldn’t arrive until just before the ceremonial meat.
Which meant Hunter had a much-needed moment to compose himself.
He reached for his glass of wine. Boy, did he need a drink. Something stronger would be nice, but he’d just have to be satisfied with rotten grapes.
His hand didn’t move.
He concentrated on raising his arm, flexing his fingers, moving, twitching, anything.
Nothing.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
Like the last time, he hadn’t noticed the switch. There was no box, no sense he was cut off from the physical form he inhabited. He really hadn’t wanted
Anaea
to have to act her way through this dinner. He didn’t know if she could.
Grab that glass of wine, will you? We need a drink.
Are you kidding me?
She didn’t sound happy at all.
I wish I was.
His hand jerked forward, or rather, her hand did. She took the glass and sucked back a large swig.
How soon can we get out of this?
Look sullen, eat the meat, and then we can leave.
She finished the glass. He could feel her struggling not to shake. She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to think about what had happened in the
wasu
tahazu
or about Constantine and the crazy Jester. She didn’t want to think about what was going to happen now.
It will be okay. I promise.
Rivers of blood, pouring over her, flashed through her mind.
And to top it all off, she was still in shock from the fight. It made him ache to know he was the cause of her turmoil.
You did what you needed to do.
She blinked and he felt her throat constrict.
I don’t know if I can do this.
Yes, you can.
She couldn’t cry. He needed to distract her with something, anything.
Raise a finger. Let’s get our glass topped up.
She obeyed and a young woman in a gossamer gown refilled the glass.
Regis’s
imagination reflected a time period long dead, along with its misogynistic beliefs, but Court still mirrored that in hopes of winning his favor.
Anaea
didn’t comment on the dress or lack thereof. He would have thought she’d make a biting remark of some kind.
This wasn’t good.
Maybe a familiar face would help.
Grey is on your left, halfway to the dais.
She didn’t look up.
Everyone’s looking at me.
That’s because you look hot in this dress.
You mean it’s because they all think
you
look hot in this dress.
That was better.
I suppose so.
If a little laugh at his expense helped her to calm down, so be it. What he really needed was to get her emotionally detached, make her see the situation from a distance... appeal to her intellect. She was already curious, but too afraid to ask anything.
Now, look at Grey.
Over there.
He
’
s with his coterie
.
His coterie?
Anaea’s
gaze darted to the left, hit Grey,
then
returned to the wineglass.
Excellent.
He’d hoped the interesting word would catch her attention. If he could keep her intellectually focused, perhaps she’d be able to ignore her emotions enough to get through this.
We’re organized in groups or clans called coteries.
That’s why a democracy didn’t work
. E
veryone was loyal to their coterie.
Yeah. Some habits die hard. We lived this way before we lost our physical forms and nothing else seems to keep order. There used to be a lot of coteries,
family and extended family groupings. But with
Constantine
being unstable, there’s safety in numbers and the small
er
groups have joined more powerful ones.
Anaea
swallowed.
You have
a
complicated society.
You have no idea. It’s been around for thousands of years.
Currently there are thirteen
coteries and e
veryone sits by color association.
Even if they were at the dinner for other reasons, like Grey who sat with the Silver Coterie but represented the Handmaiden who never attended events.
That’
s why Regis called Grey a silver drake?
Exactly.
For the most part they’
re based on our
original dragon-form colors.
He really shouldn’t be telling her any of this, but thank the Mother of All it was working. Her panic had eased a bit even if she was still staring at her glass.
Dragon-form colors?
Our original colors
reflect a drake’s primary element: fire, water, earth, or air, and therefore his weakness, but with the discovery of magic that
’s
no longer important.
Although after a couple thousand years without bodies, seeing a dragon for his color seemed pointless, like the humans’ prejudice to skin color.
But you said only a few of you have magic.
It’s enough to distinguish leaders from followers. We live in a precarious state between order and chaos. If the leaders of the coteries are
roughly equal
in strength
no one will try to upset the balance.
But
if nothing changes, Regis will stay in control
until he dies.
And if he stays safe, he never will.
Her shock billowed over him.
You don’t die?
We’re spirits. The magic in our spirit stops our vessels from aging. We can still be killed
, but we don’t die from natural causes.
Her thoughts stilled and a chill went through him. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but he could guess. If she had survived the wounds she had and he stopped his vessel from aging, was her cancer gone? He didn’t know what he’d say if she asked.
So if you can’t die and no one challenges
Regis
,
he stay
s put
.
Hunter swallowed his relief. He should probably tell her the truth about her cancer, but if it was discovered that they were body-sharing there wasn’t anything he could do to save her. It would be better if she thought she was still dying. To give her hope and then take it away would be cruel. Once he knew she was safe, he’d tell her the truth.
You don’t like Regis
,
she said.
No.
Regis held onto his power through cruelty and fear. He supposed that was one way for a leader to keep power, but he didn’t agree with it.
You don’t
think
he
should be in charge.
He’s not in charge.
Constantine
is.
Anaea
snorted, but still didn’t look up from her glass.
Even I can tell
Constantine
isn’t in charge.
But that was all part of the tentative balance as well and likely the reason for the attack on him. As soon as they were through this and
Anaea
was safely away from Court, he would prove he wasn’t a blind follower. Until then, he needed to keep his goal in mind, getting through dinner without anyone noticing that he wasn’t himself. And to do that, he needed to get
Anaea
to look up.
Enough about
Constantine
.
Let’s see who’s here.
Okay.
She gathered her courage and scanned the area.
Good. All the usual suspects
are here
.
He hadn’t missed anyone on his way in.
The usual suspects?
All
the coterie
doyens, the
leaders,
are here. T
here isn
’t anyone I wasn’
t expecting. Attending the
pahar
and its feasts is all about maintaining or gaining political power.
Just by showing up?
she
asked.
It
’
s more complicated than that.
I figured as much. But why don
’
t you continue trying to distract me.
And yet again, she demonstrated the depth of her acuity. He supposed he wasn’t being particularly subtle about his intentions, but he hadn’t been trying to be obvious either.
I shouldn
’
t be telling you this.
I know.
You shouldn
’
t be reading my thoughts, either.
I
’
m not
.
T
hey
’
re like
...
well,
they
were
like a megaphone announcement.
Now that wasn’t fair. How had she managed to turn the tables on him and use his own words from the parking garage earlier that day against him?
Fine.
How had she put it?
In for a penny, in for a pound.
He double-checked his mental shields to ensure she couldn’t hear anything he didn’t want her to.
All right.
Fine.
A coterie’s influence can be determined on many levels
,
such as the number of its members, like
Zenobia’s
Major Green.
You mean the bitch?
Yes.
The bitch.
The Royal Coterie has the most members with the strongest magic.
Which makes them dangerous to annoy.
That was an understatement and definitely something he wasn’t going to go into details about. The knot between her shoulders was just starting to
ease,
he didn’t want to scare her about
Regis’s
predilections.
A coterie’
s power can also be determined by a significant city or geographical region controlled in the humans’ realm. The Major Brown controls
Newgate
,
where the main gate to Court is.