Black Dagger Brotherhood 11 - Lover at Last

others down to the streets. I shall join you apace.”
    “As you wish,” Throe said with a brief bow.
    As his fighter ducked away, the aristocrat on the other end continued. “There is disquiet among many members of the ruling class, as you are well aware. And I believe if someone comes forth with this, it will be far more effective at displacing Wrath, son of Wrath, than any attempt on his life. Especially after he made such a show of strength at the Council meeting the other evening. Indeed, many were frightened into a kind of submission thereafter, their wills conscripted unto his physical bearing, which was rather fierce.”
    Xcor’s mind began to turn over the possibilities. “So tell me, gentlemale, in your mind, you would succeed him, no?”
    “No,” came the strident response. “I am a solicitor, and as such, I value logic above all else. In this climate of unrest and war, only a soldier could lead the race—and should. Elan was a fool for his ambitions, and you have been taking advantage of this. I know because I saw you at his house that night in the fall—you were positioning himwhere you wanted him, even as he thought it was the other way around. I want change, yes. And I am prepared to make it happen. But I have no illusions as to my utility, and no interest in Elan’s outcome becoming my own.”
    Xcor found himself turning in the direction of that mountaintop. “No king has been dethroned in this manner.”
    “No king has e’er been dethroned.”
    Good point.
    As he stared to the northeast, where that strange disturbance in the landscape was located, he thought of the king there with his queen…and Xcor’s pregnant Chosen.
    There was a time when he would have much preferred the bloodier path, the one that was marked with the satisfaction of ripping the throne away from Wrath’s dying hand. But this war of letters was…safer. For his female.
    The last thing he wanted to do was raid where she ate, where she slept…where her condition was treated.
    Closing his eyes, he shook his head at himself. Oh, how the mighty had fallen…and yet they would rise up nonetheless, he vowed.
    “How would you suggest proceeding?” he said roughly.
    “Quietly, at first. I must needs gather precedents for the manner in which ‘full-blooded’ has been construed in cases brought forth for decision. The advantage is that there has been a long-standing discrimination against humans, and it was even more pronounced in the past—when Wrath’s father was actually issuing proclamations and interpreting the law. That will be the key. The stronger the precedent, the more successful this will be all around.”
    How ironic. Wrath’s own sire’s reading of the wording was going to be what brought the son down.
    “The issue for us will be the king himself. He needs to remain breathing—and he needs to not recognize the weakness inherent in his reign and fix it before we can get things in order.”
    “You will e-mail my associate the relevant passages, and then you will meet with me.”
    “This will take a number of days.”
    “Understood. But I expect your call promptly.”
    As names were exchanged, and Xcor gave over Throe’s e-mail address, he began to feel a certain buoyancy. If this male was correct? Wrath’s kingship was going to be over without any more bloodshed.And then Xcor would be free to determine the future of the race: As far as he knew, Wrath had no direct family, so if he were removed, there was no one with a strong claim to the throne. Although that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be relations coming out of the woodwork.
    Interlopers he could deal with, however. And with the support of the Council? He was willing to bet he could become a populist leader—provided everyone got in line.
    Wrath wasn’t the only one who could change the laws.
    “Do not waste time with this,” Xcor said. “You have a week. No longer.”
    The answer that came back at him was gratifying: “I shall proceed with all haste.”
    And wasn’t that a lovely way to end a phone call.

SEVENTY-FOUR
    T he tunnel that connected the mansion with the training center was cool, dim, and quiet.
    As Qhuinn walked through it, he was by himself and glad of it. Nothing worse than being surrounded by happy people when you felt like death.
    When he got to the door that led into the back of the office’s closet, he put in the code, waited for the lock to pop, and pushed his way inside. A quick trip past the stationery and pens,