Xcor flashed his fangs in a smile. “You worry o’ermuch about rules, my friend.”
“You cannot call a meeting of the Council. You do not have standing.”
“True enough. It is, however, another story to present them with a reason to convene. Was it not you yourself who said there were grumbles about the king following the raids.”
“Aye. But I am well aware of what you seek, and the end goal is treason at best, suicide, at worst.”
“Such a narrow thinker you are, Throe. For all of your practical education, you have a gross lack of vision.”
“You cannot depose the king—and surely you are not thinking of trying to kill him.”
“Kill?” Xcor cocked a brow. “I do not wish him a coffin for a bed. Not a’tall. I bid him a long life . . . such that he may stew in the juices of his failure.”
Throe shook his head. “I know not why you hate him so.”
“Please.” Xcor rolled his eyes. “I have nothing against him personally. It is his status that I covet, pure and simple. For him to be alive whilst I sit upon his throne is just an added spice for my meal.”
“Sometimes . . . I fear you are mad.”
Xcor narrowed his eyes. “I assure you . . . I am neither enraged nor insane. And you should walk carefully the line you stand upon with comments like that.”
He was fully capable of killing his old friend. Today. Tonight. Tomorrow. His father had taught him that soldiers were no different from any other weapon—and when they were in danger of misfiring? They had to go.
“Forgive me.” Throe bowed slightly. “My debt to you remains. As does my loyalty.”
Such a sap. Although in truth, Xcor murdering the male who had defiled Throe’s sister had been a very worthwhile investment of time and blade, for it had tied this steadfast and true fighter to him. E’ermore.
Throe had sold himself to Xcor to get the deed done. Back then, the male had been too much of a dandy to commit the murder with his own hand, and so he had forced himself into the shadows to seek what he would never have invited in through even the service entrance of his mansion. He had been shocked when the money offered had been turned down, and had started to walk off when Xcor had made his demand.
A quick jogging of the memory as to the condition his sister had been found in had been enough to get a pledge out of him.
And subsequent training had done wonders. Under Xcor’s tutelage Throe had hardened o’er time, like steel forged in heat. Now he was a killer. Now he was useful for something other than playing social statue at dinner parties and balls.
Such a shame his bloodline hadn’t seen the transformation as an improvement—in spite of the fact that his father had been a Brother, for godsakes. You’d think the family would have been grateful. Alas, they had disowned the poor fucker.
It made Xcor positively weep every time he thought about it.
“You will write to them.” Xcor smiled again, his fangs tingling, his cock doing likewise. “You will write to all of them and you will announce our arrival. You will point out their losses, reminding them of the young and the females that were cut down that summer night. You will recall to their minds all the audiences they have not had with their king. You will express the proper outrage on their behalf and you will do it in a way they will understand—because you were once one of them. And then we shall wait . . . to be summoned.”
Throe bowed. “Aye, my leahdyre.”
“In the meantime, we shall hunt for lessers and keep a tally of our killings. So that when they ask after our health and well-being, which the aristocracy is wont to do, we can inform them that although prime-bred horses are pretty in the stables . . . a pack of wolves is what you want guarding your back door.”
The glymera were worthless on so many levels, but they were as predictable as a pocket watch; self-preservation was what made their hands, big and small, go ’round and ’round . . . and ’round once more.
“Best go get your rest,” Xcor drawled. “Or are you already on the hunt for one of your diversions.” When there was no answer, he frowned at the reply hidden within the lack of response. “You have a purpose above and beyond what passed our fighting hours previously. The human dead are of far less concern than the living enemy of ours.”
“Aye.”
Read: Nay.
“Do not tarry in other pursuits to the disadvantage of our goals.”
“Have I ever let you down?”
“There is still time, old friend.” Xcor stared at the male from beneath half-masted lids. “There is always time for your bleeding-heart nature to get you into trouble. And lest you disagree, may I remind you of the circumstances you have found yourself in for the last two centuries.”
Throe stiffened. “No. You need not. I am perfectly aware of where I am.”