Page 173 of Bitten By the Fae
“Have they?” he countered, arching a dark brow. “Or is that what our Council wants us to believe?”
“It’s an international directive to execute abominations,” I reminded him. “Not just our Council’s.”
“Fair,” he conceded. “But who proposed that mandate originally?”
“My grandfather,” I replied, aware of the history involved. “Shortly after a certain issue a millennium ago.”
He nodded. “Yes. Right around the time he also had all the Quandary Bloods executed.” He cocked his head to the side. “Now, I might be overthinking this, but it seems to me your family has a history of fearing those with the potential to be more powerful than them.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “If you’re trying to accuse me or my family of something, Shadow, then I suggest you stop hiding behind riddles and spit it out.”
His lips curled. “I see I’ve struck a nerve.”
“With your cryptic bullshit, sure.”
“No. With my concise recollection of just why all this started in the first place. Your grandfather didn’t want to risk the source being realigned again, so he exterminated the Quandary Bloods—or at least those he could find—and also strongly encouraged the fae community to execute all abominations. Which, when you think about it, is a very strange choice indeed when Midnight Fae males can become Fortune Fae Alphas by just refusing to ingest human blood. Thereby suggesting fae are actually somewhat related across the species. But I digress.”
He kicked his feet off the table and leaned forward, all signs of amusement leaving his features.
“Our Council requires change,” he continued, his blue irises landing on Aflora. “So you want a reason, little rose? That’s your reason. Our quad is going to change everything, including rebalancing a power source that has long been abused by the Nacht family. With, or without, Kols’s knowledge.”
“All right.” My hands went to Aflora’s hips to remove her from my lap, but her thighs clamped down around mine.
“Hold on,” she said.
“No. He’s just insulted?—”
Her palm covered my mouth, shocking the hell out of me. “Why do you feel it’s been abused?” she asked Shade.
“Because the Quandary Bloods were removed from the equation, thereby dismantling the balance and allowing the Elite Bloods unfettered access to the source via the Nacht family line. Kolstov’s grandfather destroyed the Midnight Fae who were meant to protect the balance, all because he feared the source would be redirected to another line.”
I moved my mouth away from Aflora’s hand. “Is that the bullshit your father tells you?” I demanded with a humorless laugh. “Un-fucking-believable.”
“Yes, he’s told me this version of events, and he’s also droned on and on about how the source was stolen from our family.” Shade lifted his hand, palm up, in a version of an odd shrug, then let it fall back to his lap. “He wants it back for all the wrong reasons. As do all the members of the Council. Which brings me back to the need for change.”
Zeph chose that moment to enter with a tray of food. He set it down on the coffee table and fixed his gaze on Shade. “You have my attention, Shade. Elaborate on your suggestions for change.”
Of course Zeph would want to entertain this nonsense.
This time Aflora allowed me to lift her off my lap and into the space beside me. Zeph took the spot on her opposite side, his forearms going to his sprawled thighs as he leaned forward to focus on Shade.
“Well?” my Guardian prompted.
Shade studied him for a long moment. “Did you enjoy being demoted to headmaster as a result of your sexual shenanigans?”
Zeph merely smirked. “Nice try at evasion. Tell me your ideas for change.”
“It’s not my ideas that will matter,” he replied cryptically. “It’s our mate’s.”
Aflora had been staring intently at the tray of food, but Shade’s words pulled her gaze sideways. I stretched my arm out across the back of the couch so my fingertips could lightly brush her shoulder. It was a natural move, similar to Zeph widening his legs to ensure his thigh touched hers.
Shade noticed but didn’t comment. Nor did he seem bothered by it. Actually, he appeared almost content with the possessive display, as if it satisfied some part of him.
“I will never understand you,” I decided out loud.
Mischief danced in his features. “You will. One day. Just not today.” He looked at Aflora. “I’ll see you in your dreams later, little rose.” And then he disappeared into smoke once more.
“I hate when he does that,” I said, irritated as hell.
