I scowled at him. Jules scowled back. “Step outside,” he told the baby, who started to leave, taking me with him. “No, just you!”
The vamp put me down and did as he was told, and I sat on a marble ledge poking out from the wall, to spare my feet. Jules stood, arms crossed, until he noticed that the curtain was still open. And swished it closed.
That left us largely in the dark, since the alcove still had a roof. The main corridor, which mostly didn’t, had been a lot brighter. As it was, I could barely make out Jules’ perfect profile as he watched shadows passing outside through the fabric’s thin weave.
“What?” I said.
“The walls have ears around here—along with who knows what else?”
“And? I didn’t say anything I wouldn’t say to his face—and will, as soon as I find him. This is bullshit.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.”
“They wouldn’t even have an alliance without him, so they’re what? Repaying him by making him even more of a target? Someone tried to murder him yesterday—”
“And will again. And maybe that’s the point.”
“What?”
Jules ran a hand through thick, wavy blond hair. “Look, I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you this—”
“Oh, you’re going to tell me.”
“Yes, I am,” he agreed. “But only because you forced it out of me. I’m only human now, and can’t be expected to stand up to—”
“Jules!”
He grinned, a quick flash of teeth. “That’s just in case you ever slip up and say where you heard it. It helps to have the defense prepared.”
“You’re paranoid.”
&nbs
p; “And then some. But I doubt you’ll be asked; it’s common knowledge that the consul’s worried about Mircea.”
“Worried?” I frowned. “What do you mean, worried?”
“I mean, people aren’t taking bets on which one of them will survive yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
I stared at him. “What?”
He sighed. “Look, this always happens when a servant gets really strong, okay? Consuls need allies, but as soon as someone gets a little too capable, they have to start worrying. Is he gunning for my job? Is he planning to make a move? Does he have the power to challenge me? And in Mircea’s case, lately, the answer to that last question has been looking more and more like a yes.”
“And the first two?”
“Are assumed.”
I shook my head. “But . . . she can’t really believe he wants to kill her!”
“Can’t she? How do you think she got the job? Consuls don’t retire, Cassie. She killed her own master for the top spot; why would she think he’d balk at taking out a mentor? Mircea was already more or less ready, if he’d wanted to make a challenge, but lately . . .”
“Lately?”
For the first time, he looked conflicted. “A lot of things have happened lately, not all of which I can go into—no, I can’t,” he said, seeing my face. “That’s the master’s story to tell, if he chooses. But you don’t need all that. Let’s just say that he was pretty damn powerful already, although he was keeping it under wraps fairly well—”
“Under wraps? But everybody knows—”
“But they don’t know that they know,” Jules said cryptically. “Vamps still have a lot of human prejudices, right? Have you ever noticed that the guards people choose always look the part? Take Marco. He has a good brain, better than most. But he looks like a tough guy, so he spent centuries doing muscle work, even though a ninety-pound weakling at the same level could do as much damage—”