When he’d been prohibited from fighting.
“Yes, right.” Shuli cleared his throat and indicated an archway across the room. Which was stupid. “Okay, well, let me take you down to his suite, which is through—”
“Never mind.” Wrath’s nostrils flared. “He’s coming now because he knows I’m here. I’m thinking he got his nose from me.”
Sure enough, footfalls, uneven but insistent, were proceeding down the hall…and then there he was. The heir to the throne, in all the glory that a pair of scrub bottoms, a fully tattooed torso, and a bandaged shoulder could impart. And as L.W. stopped in the archway, an eyeball back-and-forth between the generations yielded a distorted mirror image. The son was just as tall, just as broad, just as totally not happy-go-lucky. But you couldn’t call him a mini-me version. There was nothing “mini” about him. Plus, instead of letting his long, black hairfall straight from that widow’s peak, he braided the top over the crown of his head like a Mohawk and had shaved the sides.
“You’re injured,” Wrath said softly.
“What are you doing here?” L.W. demanded. Then he nodded at Shuli. “He’s done nothing wrong.”
“I didn’t come for him. So, he’s going to leave us now—”
“He stays.” That voice cracked like a whip. “He’s my bodyguard, remember? That was your idea.”
“And I’m your father.” When there was nothing coming back, those black brows dropped behind the black wraparounds. “You don’t need protection from me.”
There was a long pause between the two…during which Shuli plotted his exit. Maybe he could pretend something was on fire in the kitchen—
“Where are you hurt,” Wrath demanded.
“I stubbed my toe. Just like you guessed.”
“How long were you waiting down there, knowing I was here.”
“Since the moment you came in the house.” L.W. touched the side of his nose. “I also have a good sense of smell. As you said.”
Shuli started backing up. He’d had a bad relationship with his sire, but for different reasons. So, really, there was no reason for him to hang around while another angle on that sort of dysfunction played out.
“No, you stay,” L.W. snapped. Then he refocused on his father. “I live here now, and I stubbed my toe. That’s all I got to offer you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to bed.”
“The time has come.”
Later, much later, Shuli would remember what came next as a kind of fever dream, something that was clear and cloudy at the same time.
“For First meal?” L.W. drawled. “We’ve already eaten—”
“I’m stepping down. You’re going to be King now.”
Back in Luchas House’s attic, Beth put the old photo album aside and stood up on legs that were like threads of yarn. “What do you mean…Wrath’s gone?”
As she weaved on her feet, she felt like she was back in that playroom all those years ago, the bad news landing on her head and crushing her.
Rhage shook his head and shrugged. “He told us to cancel all of his appointments, and he just…left.”
“From the Audience House.” God, she hated the double-checking, the suspicion. “You were at the—”
“We were on our way there on the Northway.”
A cold shell locked around her chest. “So, not at the Audience House.”
“That’s where we were going—look, it doesn’t matter. We need to find him…”
The Brother went on talking, but a ringing sound inside her head drowned out his words. As she retreated internally, she stared across at Rhage’s extraordinary blond beauty and his Bahamas-blue eyes like she was seeing them for the first time.
“Sure, you were,” she heard herself say.
He frowned as if she’d driven the car of their conversation off the road. “Anyway, you feed from him, so you’ll be able to get a bead on his location.”
