“Yes, this is my place.” Shuli bowed, his monogrammed bathrobe shifting over his muscular build. “Welcome, may we get you anything?”
As a uniformed butler stepped into the room, she stayed focused on Shuli. He had the bone structure, bank account, and manners of aglymera-raised best son. But that was just the superficial stuff. He was canny, smart, a terrific fighter, although she couldn’t say she’d ever really trusted him. That was probably just her own prejudices at work, however, after so many years down at the Audience House seeing how badly the aristocracy behaved.
There was no arguing his loyalty to L.W.
“Ah, no, thank you. I’m good.” She wasnotfucking good. “L.W., what’s going on here? The Brotherhood’s looking for your father, and I know he’s just left—he obviously came to talk to you.”
L.W.’s pale green eyes narrowed, but his voice stayed casual. Like he was talking about the weather: “He dropped by to tell me he was stepping down from the throne, and I was King now.”
As Beth blinked a couple of times, a loud ringing sound replaced all the sound in the world.
“What.”
Chapter Seven
Ten years and six months ago...
Beth had a corner in the Audience Room all to herself. It was right beside Saxton’s desk and slightly behind the two comfy armchairs that were positioned in front of the hearth. Her seat was a generic office one, the kind of thing you’d find at any Office Depot, black with a mesh back that was contoured to offer lumbar support. They’d had to take the wheels off because the spot she picked was off the big Persian carpet that took up everything but the sides of the room.
With those rollers on, the thing was like a luge sled on the floorboards.
“His name was given as Emile, in the honor of my grandfather.” Next to the male who was speaking, his full-grown son was positively beaming. “He is the first male born of his generation in the bloodline, and we are very proud of him, indeed.”
The three civilians standing in front of “Wrath” were outliers when compared to who usually came through the Audience House’s door. Blond, light-eyed, and dressed with a precision and polish that was right out of the Ivy League, they were clearly members of theglymera: Father and son were in the Brooks Brothers navy blue jacket, pressed linen slacks and club tie they’d come out of the womb wearing.Mahmenwas in Chanel, but the discrete kind, without all the obviousinterlocking C’s. And their trio of identical smiles showed picket-fence perfect teeth.
Yup, it was Ken, Barbie and little Kenny, Jr.—
Beth frowned and rubbed her temples. Okay, that was a really bitchy way to think.
“And following his recent graduation from medical school,” the father continued, “he has been accepted as an intern under Havers, such that he may serve you and the species as a healer.”
She was surprised they didn’t spell out whatever Harvard/Yale/Columbia/Cornell diploma the son had gotten courtesy of the accommodations curriculum that had allowed him to attend virtually. But maybe that would be considered too showy? Hard to know what theglymerathought was okay. The only thing she knew for sure was that whatever was outside the bounds of propriety and acceptability was judged hard.
Then again, where else would their golden boy go for his M.D.?
“Approach your King,” Rahvyn said in Wrath’s voice.
Usually, the people who came here were hesitant when they were invited to step up close. Some cried, most trembled and didn’t bother to hide it. Or couldn’t. Not these aristocrats. They were calm and relaxed. They did bow, though. Or rather, the males tilted their torso, and the female curtsied.
The respect was kind of nice to see, actually.
“Your deeds are worthy of note,” the image of Wrath announced in the Old Language. “I hereby order Emile, son of Dresden, to be honored with a royal decree of recognition. May this worthy male continue to carry forth with honor the bloodline of his sire and hismahmen, and be of further service unto the species.”
With that, a replica of the black diamond ring every King had worn was presented. One by one, they bent over the stoneand pressed their foreheads to the gem, first the parents, then the son. Other words were spoken, but she didn’t track them. She was too distracted by the way the couple kept looking at each other, their eyes meeting and lingering, the smiles private and full of pride.
Wow. She didn’t mean to be prejudicial, but she really didn’t associate members of theglymerawith that kind of loving emotion. It was nice to see—even though the connection between the two made her rub the cold, empty cavern where her heart had previously resided.
No forwarding address on the damn thing. Then again, she hadn’t really tried to find its new home.
“Thank you,” Dresden said. “We are very grateful. In our family, the old ways are still the proper ways, and this is certainly a night to remember.”
Another bows-and-curtsey combo. And then the family wafted out in a fragrant cloud of cologne and perfume.
Beth exhaled and was willing to bet no one else had to take a moment to gather themselves. That kind of communal composure recall was reserved for the gut-punch audiences. Thelessers-killed-my-kid, the burglars-broke-into-my-house, the my-father/mahmen/sister/brother-is-dead kind of stuff.
The couples were hard on her, though. Always had been.
And as ever, after one came in, she wondered why she was doing this to herself, sitting here in the corner. Then she remembered that it was just so much more efficient. Back when “Wrath” had resumed seeing his subjects, there had had to be these long reviews of what had happened during the night, and then she’d had to make any decisions required—and time waste wasn’t fair to Saxton.
