Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

longer wanted her.
    Lying to yourself, Lothaire?
    When he intoned to the court, “I will see my council, alone,” subjects scattered as if they were on fire. It was time for a meeting with the royals, now that he knew them intimately—from routinely spying on them. “Clear the gallery. Including you, Hag.”
    She glared, no doubt wishing she’d never accepted her position as royal oracle.
    After his coronation, a formal affair that was farcically mired in tradition, Lothaire had traced to Hag’s for a potion—to erase Elizabeth from his memory completely.
    The fey’s home had been deserted, looking as if it hadn’t been lived in for a hundred years. No scents lingered, no footsteps in the sand leading away from the entrance.
    He’d traced to the nearest town to make a phone call, stealing a cell phone from its distracted owner—some fuckwit who’d been saving orphans from an inferno or some such—then dialed Hag’s number. “Where the hell are you?”
    “Away. I don’t want to get in the middle of you and Elizabeth.”
    “The middle!” he’d roared, regretting that he’d struck Hag’s name from his ledger. “If you’re not with me, you’re against me—there is no middle ! You’re my goddamned soothsayer.”
    “And some of your enemies have discovered our connection. I’m being pursued, as we speak, by the king and queen of the rage demons. They seek my aid to find you—as well as the queen’s sister, who’s been missing since the breakout on the prison island. Good luck to them with the latter,” she’d said cryptically. “Mariketa the Awaited, Portia the StoneSorceress, and many more nip at my heels. In any case, your business is concluded, your tasks complete.”
    “Not all of them.” One left. He still wanted the Horde crown, still planned to deal that retribution. “You’re to be my new royal oracle. You won’t be found if you’re within my realm.”
    Since she’d arrived her attitude left much to be desired. Even now she glared at him before leaving the room.
    Once he and the five royals were alone, Lothaire took his time studying them. All were unmated.
    Trehan was blooded, but had no Bride to show for it. Mirceo was the youngest of the males, only thirty, and would soon freeze into his immortality, losing all sexual ability. His heartbeat was erratic—and slowing.
    His sister, Kosmina, was too immature to even contemplate a male of her own.
    Lothaire had no idea whether Viktor’s or Stelian’s heart beat. They both used an old spell to cloak it. Which Lothaire found intriguing.
    Viktor would probably have no time to rut anyway, since all he did was fight. I’ve met ghouls who were more peaceable.
    And of the sixth royal, the hidden one they didn’t think he knew about? My investigation continues. . . .
    With a bored air, Lothaire turned to Stelian. “None of my subjects asked a boon of their king?”
    The big vampire shook his head. “They fairly much live in fear of you.”
    “Whyever is that?” he asked blandly.
    Grinning, Mirceo asked, “How are you finding your accommodations, Uncle?” He was the head of the castle guard. He liked Lothaire, found him amusing because he was unpredictable.
    As I once found Elizabeth.
    “They’re adequate,” Lothaire answered, not a lie, though his sitting room was the size of a ballroom. If he weren’t a puzzle master, he could get lost in his labyrinthine new castle. “Why, Mirceo, I don’t believe your heart has beat much since you’ve come in.” Not more than one thundering spurt. “And you no longer need to breathe?”
    The young vampire stifled his stricken expression. “Unfortunately, this is true, Uncle.” He acted stoic about it, but in secret, he was out each night frantically screwing anything that moved, as randy as Lothaire had been in the same situation ages ago.
    Just last night, Mirceo had been happily tonguing a female’s breasts while a male suckled him—until poor Mirceo had . . . lost enthusiasm.
    “Fear not,” Lothaire said, “you probably won’t even notice that it
seems like everyone else in the world but you is constantly fucking like animals.”
    With one comment, Lothaire could make both Mirceo and his prudish sister deeply uncomfortable. Like bowling a spare.
    Stelian quickly changed the subject. “You’ve been traveling a great deal.” As the oldest of the royals, he was the Gatekeeper, the most powerful position after king. Stelian was the one who decided who would enter or