Ritual Magic

conservative clan. His Leidolf were more comfortable in their usual role than as guests to a wedding that appalled, angered, or confused most of them.
    Very few from outside the two clans had come. Two of the Rhejes were here—Etorri’s and Leidolf’s—as well as an old friend from Kyffin, and of course Ruben, who was now Rho of Wythe as well as being Lily’s boss. But no one would take Ruben’s presence as a political statement. As a former human, Ruben was married himself and saw nothing controversial about Rule becoming a husband. Another Rho, Tony Romano of Laban, had offered to come, if Rule thought it would help . . . “But I don’t know if it would. People will think you ordered it, and Laban isn’t used to me being Rho yet. If I go, it will cause problems. I haven’t had to kill anyone yet, but there are a few who . . . but I’ll come if it will help.”
    All of which was true. Not only was Laban subordinate to Nokolai, but when Tony became Rho, he’d submitted
plene et simpliciter
. Without reservations. Rule had excused him from attending.
    So there were four present from other clans—four plus the man currently questioning him about recent events. Andor Demeny was Rho of Szós. His presence was a mark of distinct honor as well as a strong political statement. Rule had rather hoped Andor’s Lu Nuncio, Lucas, might attend; Lucas was a friend. For Andor to accept the invitation himself had been a huge surprise. “But she’s your Chosen,” Andor had said when Rule called to thank him. “That’s different. Doesn’t affect the rest of us. I don’t see why we haven’t let mates marry all along, if they wanted to. Seems obvious. Married or not, you won’t be spreading your seed anymore.”
    “. . . so while we’re staying alert,” Rule finished, “it’s unlikely that Friar can muster any kind of effective strike force this quickly. He may not even be in this realm.”
    “Your Rhej couldn’t be sure she banished him?”
    “No, she said—”
    “There you are.” The voice was warm and slightly exasperated.
    Rule turned, smiling. “Jasper. Aren’t you supposed to be—”
    “Yes, and so are you. Your father sent me to fetch you.”
    “Clearly I must obey.” Rule turned to Andor. “Andor, this is my brother Jasper Machek. Jasper, this is Andor Demeny, Szós Rho.”
    Andor’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Jasper was human, the son of Rule’s mother with a human man. Rule should have named him
alius
kin, or perhaps
ospi—
clan friend. Not “brother,” which was reserved for a lupus sibling. Andor politely forbore commenting on Rule’s unconventional choice. “Good to meet you, Jasper.”
    “I’m pleased to meet you as well, and chagrined that I have no time to further our acquaintance. Rule?”
    “Please excuse me, Andor. As you heard, I’m ordered to my place.”
    Rule headed toward the small grove at the west side of the lawn with Jasper. He glanced at his watch. “I’m not late.”
    “Not yet, but you’re pushing it. And I, uh . . . I wanted a chance to give you my news.” There was suppressed excitement in his voice.
    Rule cocked his head. “Good news?”
    “You’ll be getting an invitation to my wedding soon. We haven’t set a date yet, but—”
    Rule stopped. “But this is marvelous! Congratulations, Jasper. I take it the Supreme Court decision—”
    “Yes.” Jasper was flushed and happy. “I wish everyone could have this chance, but now Adam and I do, and we’re by damn taking it.”
    “I’m glad.”
    Adam was waiting with the others in the small grove of white alders. Rule made a point of shaking his hand and congratulating him, though he had just about run out of patience with all this
waiting
.
    Isen had been talking to Benedict. He turned, his eyebrows lifting. “You’re on time, but just barely.”
    “Andor wanted to speak with me.”
    “Ah. Can’t offend there.” Isen looked as smug as if he’d arranged for Andor’s presence.
    Maybe he had, in his own sneaky way. Rule looked past his father, out across the lawn . . . and felt her. Lily was coming out of the building, heading along the path that led to the small copse of trees opposite this one. Her trees, though, were gold medallions instead of alders . . . and they were blooming. Which they generally didn’t do in March. Rule wondered if one of their friends or relatives had tinkered with the trees. “She’s almost there.” His heartbeat kicked into high gear. His