Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

will accept Lothaire as its king if I am by his side.”
    “It’s not that simple—”
    “It is. He’s part Dacian. They cut away all the extraneous considerations and focus only on their goals. Lothaire’s primary goal is to become king of the Horde. I want to know if I’m the key to the Horde throne.”
    “Do it, Hag.”
    The fey grudgingly removed her pouch, spreading the cloth. She rolled the bones, read them.
    “Well?” Lothaire demanded.
    As if the words were pulled from her, Hag said, “The Horde will accept you if Saroya is by your side—and she is a vampire. Tymur the Allegiant and his men will yield Castle Helvita and swear their fealty to you.”
    Tymur kneeling before me while I decide if I should decapitate him . . . Lothaire’s eyes grew hooded.
    “There, Lothaire,” Saroya said, “as I promised, I shall place that crown on your fair head. You’ll be a king, just as Ivana the Bold wanted. And after you rule the Horde, you’ll use that army to seize the Dacian throne. It’s all so close. We’re only waiting on you, my king.”
    King. His chest ached with want. Crowned, ruling, power. He’d build a monument to his mother in Stefanovich’s old castle. If I don’t raze it to the ground, stone by bloody stone.
    “Now, Lothaire,” Saroya began, “shall we have more goods and services delivered to the apartment? Your queen longs for rubies. And cat’s-eye diamonds. Perhaps a Roman collar studded with emeralds . . .”

29
    L othaire just . . . left me,” Ellie murmured to Hag, her voice sounding as bewildered as she felt.
    For the last seven nights, he’d dropped her off at the fey’s—like a brat at the sitter’s—while he’d been out tirelessly searching for the ring, so determined to replace her forever.
    But this sunrise, he hadn’t come to pick her up. It was three in the afternoon. Now she knew what it felt like to be the last kid standing at KinderCare.
    “What am I supposed to make of that?” Staring at nothing, Ellie swigged her beer.
    She and Hag were out on the fey’s deck, reclining on sun chaises with snacks, magazines, and a party pail of iced Corona Lights between them.
    After the witch-in-the-mirror scare, the oracle had been much nicer to her. Probably because she knew Ellie was about to die and all.
    And Ellie had eventually forgiven her for setting Lothaire on her path—after all, Hag had nothing to do with Saroya parking inside Ellie.
    “Make nothing of it, Elizabeth,” Hag said. “He’s merely late. Let’s enjoy ourselves until he returns.”
    Realizing that Saroya probably wouldn’t want a suntan, Ellie had goneSt. Tropez, spending the day out here, slathered in coconut oil. Though she’d always tanned easily, lately she’d been prison pale.
    Not anymore. Feel the burn, freak.
    And since Saroya wanted her to put on weight, Ellie had decided to lose it. She was presently on a barley-and-hops diet.
    “Something happened after Saroya rose that last time,” Ellie said. “Ever since then, Lothaire has been acting different with me.” As if all the ground she might have conquered with him had been lost.
    When Ellie had awakened, Lothaire had gazed at her as if she’d wronged him, as if he resented her.
    Perhaps Saroya had proved seducible. Maybe she’d schooled Ellie’s attempts. Though I’m still a virgin. Of course, Lothaire had explained why they couldn’t have sex.
    “I’d pat your hand with a well-intentioned but awkward gesture if my skin weren’t poisonous.” Hag was as unused to having a girl friend as Ellie was.
    Each night, once the fey’s work was done, she and Ellie had downed drinks and chatted.
    Saucing it up with a fey oracle. My new normal.
    They’d talked about potions, hunting, the craziness of the Lore. And of Hag’s single status.
    Turned out that ages ago, Hag had fallen for a demon —strictly off limits for a fey like her. The brawny warrior had doubted his “delicate little fey’s” love, especially since she’d been so young. In turn, she’d doubted he could withstand her poisoned skin for long enough to claim her. They’d decided to meet a decade later under the golden apple tree in Draiksulia—if she still felt the same way, and if he could obtain an antidote
for her.
    Because of Hag’s curse, she’d been centuries late for her date. Now she was unable to find the warrior—even her bones couldn’t tell her where he’d disappeared to.
    Hag’s doe-brown eyes sparkled green with emotion whenever