Page 71 of What Fools These Immortals Be
“That depends on your definition of well, I suppose.” I don’t mean to be terse, but my voice doesn’t ask my permission, and Vasile raises his eyebrows at the sharpness of it.
He sighs. “I am not readily available to speak with you about Quinn. I cannot pretend I would be unbiased, and I cannot risk pitting the clan against the packs.”
My hand tightens around my glass. What does he take me for? Of course I would value his advice, no matter the form it came in, but I would not start a war with the packs on his word.
How little does he think of me, if he believes that is to be true?
“I didn’t ask about that,” I say, then add bitingly, “You came here.”
“I did. I wanted to check in with you, and this seemed easier and friendlier than a call.”
“Check in how?”
“See how things are going, Njáll. This is a tricky situation to deal with so early into your role.”
“I…” I stare into my glass, then knock the rest of my drink back and scowl.
Vasile clearly doesn’t agree that Augustine deserves any justice, and though I’m not willing to stick my neck out for him, I still believe we should hear him out. That’s why he doesn’t want to give me advice. He agrees with his mate.
“Njáll?” Vasile prods. He appears genuinely concerned, and I’m certain he feels that way, too.
That doesn’t help me any.
“Why did you give me this role?”
“Sorry?”
“This role. Crai. Why did you give it tome?”
He frowns. “I told you when I asked you to move into this position. I believe you are best suited to it. I think you will do a good job.”
“Then why didn’t you stick around? Why didn’t you start preparing for thisyearsago?”
Vasile sets his own glass down, jaw clenched. “You know why. I did not know that I would want to stop being crai until Deacon and I were reunited.”
“That was six months ago!”
“I am aware.”
“And you’ve already, what? Switched your allegiances, abandoned your clan, as though six months could prepare me to take over a role you were in for a century?”
“I—”
“You shouldn’t have chosen me for this.” I throw my hands up and get to my feet, pacing in front of the sofa. “Afsaneh would have been a better choice. Why didn’t you ask her?”
“I thought—”
“It shouldn’t be me! I can’t do this! What am I supposed to do when there’s arealproblem if the packs and Council already don’t respect me?”
“Njáll!” Vasile snarls, and he might not be the leader of our clan anymore, but there’s enough power in his voice that I come to a sudden stop.
He shakes his head as he gets to his feet. “Enough,” he says gently. “Ofcourseyou can do this job. We bothknowyou can do this job.”
“I can’t,” I say, but there’s a mulish edge to my voice now. “I’m already failing.”
“I think failing would be getting yourself killed and having your sire wipe out half of your donors in one fell swoop,” Vasile says, and despite the lightness of his tone, there’s real painbehind his words. “Not to mention having your best chieftain kidnapped. I thinkthatwould constitute failure, don’t you?”
“No.”
