Sabelle asked much of him.
She and Lucan disappeared, closing the door behind them. The finality of the click resounded in the cavernous space between him and Bram. Ice stared at his nemesis. What the hell could he say? Virtually anything would be construed as a way of making his way onto the Council or into Sabelle’s life. Both attempts would be spurned.
Bloody hell, he hadn’t tried to use his diplomatic skills in nearly two hundred years. Once, he’d been promising in politics, pontificating, speech making. He’d let rage and hopelessness bury the promise. Now, as then, one man stood between him and salvation.
Shit.
“This is bloody awkward,” Ice muttered.
Bram’s gaze zipped in his direction. “Indeed. I don’t like it.”
“Me, either. Your sister is very clever.”
He laughed. “Truer words are rarely spoken.”
Silence ensued again, and Ice’s thoughts raced. Once conversation between them had been easy, friendly, full of joking gibes and pranks. For years, his grief for Gailene had overshadowed nearly all feeling. But once he’d joined the Doomsday Brethren, that spirit of brotherhood he’d been missing had slammed him again with a different sort of sorrow. He believed in their cause, of course, but imagined that, as long as Bram led the charge, Ice would always be the outsider.
Sabelle, bless her, had given him a path to change it, perhaps. He couldn’t stop to consider now what that meant for them. He had to focus on finding some way not to fuck it up.
“I … never thanked you for saving my sister,” Bram said suddenly.
Those were the last words Ice ever expected to hear and they nearly knocked him over. “It was my privilege and pleasure. Whatever you think of my feelings for your sister, they are genuine. She is my heart, and I would give my life for hers.”
Bram shrugged. “The issue now is MacKinnett’s open Council post.”
Which told Ice that Bram would not entertain notions of Sabelle Binding to his Call. Politics and necessity could blur lines of anger and enmity, but not love.
God, would he finally have everything he’d ever sought two hundred years ago, yet watch love slip through his grasp?
Fists clenched at his sides, Ice restrained the urge to grab Bram, shake some sense into him. Experience told him the harder he railed against Bram, the more the wizard would dig in his heels, and with this spell altering his temper and mood, Bram was more unpredictable than usual.
Someday, Sabelle. Someday … I will find a way to you.
He’d waited two hundred years to allow Gailene to rest peacefully for good. If he must, he’d wait another two hundred to have Sabelle in his arms again.
“It is,” he agreed. “I want to be clear: I did not put this notion in Sabelle’s head.”
“No.” Bram shook his head. “This was all Sabelle. I know the little minx.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I should probably thank her. It’s a brilliant plan.”
Bram’s tone said that admission was a damn hard one to make, and Ice repressed a smile. “I find she’s quite full of those.”
“Always has been. From the time I met her, she was full of mischief. Had a way about her. Her siren beauty, I suppose.”
Personally, Ice thought it was her inner light and goodness. “I’m certain that didn’t hurt.”
With methodical steps, Bram crossed the floor and sat on the sofa. “If I agree to nominate you, we must have an understanding in place.”
Of course. Bram’s terms and conditions. Ice swallowed a fresh ball of anger. He shouldn’t have expected the last few moments to erase two centuries of distrust. “Spit it out.”
“I need your voting loyalty. Not on every issue. I’m not seeking a puppet, but on matters of Mathias and magickind’s safety—”
“Yes.” That agreement was easy, since they shared the same views. “Provided the votes are not used to continually suppress the Deprived. Change must come about.”
Bram hesitated, then nodded. “By changing laws, we’ll not only do what’s right, but take away Mathias’s ‘cause’ and leave him without a base of power. The Deprived will have a new leader in you, one who doesn’t feed off violence and death.”
Crowning him a new leader seemed far-fetched to Ice, but if Bram needed to believe that, fine. Or maybe Bram saw something he couldn’t? Either way … “Then we’re agreed.”
“Yes.” Then the other wizard’s blue stare zipped up to him.
Ice swallowed. Now the hard part of the conversation. Please, don’t ask me give up Sabelle.
“My sister … The issue of your Call must be addressed.”
“That’s between your sister and me.”
“I’m still her guardian,” Bram snarled.
“She is a grown woman, a very bright one, as we’ve both established. Allow her to know her own mind and heart.”
Bram shook his head. “If she mates with you, I must still disclaim her. Sabelle can be mated elsewhere for better political advantage, a stronger voting bloc on the Council. I will continue negotiations with Kelmscott Spencer. His son, Rye, would make a good candidate—”
“You son of a bitch! You’re negotiating your sister’s happiness for your political advantage, and your rejection will crush her. When you pulled her from her mother as a child because she was all but trying to sell Sabelle, you didn’t do it out of the goodness of your heart or concern for what would become of the child, did you? You bought her from her mother so that you could use the fact Merlin’s blood runs in your veins to greater political advantage. You’ve waited and bided your time for this day. Her happiness means nothing to you.”
“I do this because I am convinced you are the last man in the world who could make her happy.”
Ice knew he should shut up, stop arguing. But he couldn’t let it be. He wanted Sabelle far more than a seat on the Council. Gailene, bless her, would have understood. “Why? Because I was born to a lower class in your mind? Because I haven’t your connections?”
“Of course. What can you give her but misery?”
Ice clenched his jaw so tightly he thought it would snap. “I would always put her needs above my own, something you’ve clearly never done.”
“That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
“Rescind your threat to disclaim Sabelle for mating with me. Then I will accept your nomination.”
Bram’s eyes narrowed. “You’re in no position to negotiate.”
oh, but he was. Ice saw that now. “Then find another Deprived you know will vote with you in the next few hours and nominate him. I’ll be with Sabelle, trying to convince her that I’ll make her sublimely happy, regardless of your desertion.”
Bram lunged off the sofa at him. “You bastard!”
Ice waved a hand between them and built a solid, frozen sheet between them. “Rescind it.”
A calculating light entered those sharp blue eyes. “If you are elected, I will. That’s my best offer.”
Closing his eyes, Ice felt as if he’d negotiated with the devil. Bram would nominate Ice, and if elected, perhaps he and Sabelle could find a clear path to a happy future. Though nothing was assured, it was more than he’d dared to hope for.
“Deal. I give you fair warning: If I am elected, I will pursue your sister relentlessly until she Binds to me.”
“Even if I don’t disclaim her, she is loyal to her only brother, her only family. Don’t be surprised if she remains so.”
A few hours later, everyone under Ice’s roof assembled in the dining hall. Ice sat at the head of his table, Sabelle to his right. He couldn’t touch her, but he could feel her near, and it would be enough. For now.
Bram sat on his left, the transcast mirror he used to communicate with the Council on the big mahogany table in front of him, closed. Sterling and Tynan sat just down from Bram. They could not appear too chummy to the others, but recent events and the horrors of two Councilmen’s murders created a bond between them that could not be ignored. Tynan’s fresh grief for his grandfather settled into the hollows of his face, already deep with sorrow for his love, Auropha, murdered by Mathias several months past.
Across from the Councilmen, Raiden Wolvesey sat with a mischievous smile after inquiring to Ice about local witches who might be up for a bit of company. Ice wondered what sort of warrior he could possibly make when he never took anything seriously.
Bram clearly had the same notion. “Marrok, why don’t you take Raiden and Ronan out for a bit of training? They’re woefully behind.”
Ronan smiled ruefully at his new mate, Kari, then kissed the pretty, petite blonde. Raiden just sighed. Marrok looked more than pleased to have new subjects to torment.
“I’ll help,” Caden volunteered, squeezing Sydney’s hand on the way out.
The younger MacTavish seemed thrilled to have newer members of the group to rib. And the Wolvesey twins made such big, easy targets.
Lucan and Duke exchanged a glance and followed the group outside. Ice almost envied them. He’d rather have his arse kicked by one of Marrok’s training exercises or practice his magical fighting skills with Duke than swallow down worry and wonder if his nomination would be rejected today and all would be lost.
Quietly, Sydney and Olivia cleared away the last of their evening meal and headed to the kitchen. Ice sat alone with Sabelle and the three Councilmen. They could afford to put off the nomination no longer. With every minute that ticked by, Blackbourne and possibly Spencer had more time to devise a counterstrategy that would play into Mathias’s hands.
“Ready?” Bram asked with a glance around the table.
Ice resisted the stress-induced urge to vomit. Normally, he’d ignore what a bunch of Privileged pricks thought of him, but now … Too much was at stake. So for Gailene, for Sabelle and the future, he swallowed and held it in.
Sterling and Tynan both nodded, then Bram’s stare fell on him. Ice felt Sabelle at his side, her reassuring presence. He didn’t even have to look at her to know that she would catch him if he fell.
“Ready.” Ice heard the growl in his voice and sighed.
Relax. How the hell would he possibly pass the nomination process if he already sounded as if he might take some-one’s head off?
With a nod, Bram opened his mirror, touched a few crests, then waved his hand. It expanded to something the size of a wall mirror. Ice reared back, surprised, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been. They were, after all, magical. But not many saw the inner workings of the Council. Even during the time he’d studied with Bram as his mentor, he’d never attended any Council meeting.
A moment later, each Councilman’s face appeared on the reflective surface of the mirror beside their crest. Black-bourne with his jet hair and jowls, pale skin, and beady, greedy eyes. Ice had disliked him at once, and held no illusions that the man would ever vote for or with him.
Spencer’s familiar gray face popped up. The elder looked tired, almost defeated. And that was a damn sight better than Helmsley Camden, who looked positively petrified. A moment later, Ice saw why, as Mathias’s golden, almost feline face appeared beside the muttonchopped elder. Camden, never long on courage by all accounts, had the most notorious wizard of the millennium sitting beside him. Ice knew immediately how his vote would fall.
Damn it!
Blackbourne convened the meeting, and began by addressing Tynan.
“Your grandfather’s loss is a blow to us all,” the elder intoned. “His service to magickind was respected, and he will be missed. May he rest in peace.”
“Thank you.” Tynan o’Shea said the words politely, but Ice saw the desire to spit at the disingenuous bastard.
A few short words later, Tynan bowed his head and accepted his role on the Council.
Some wizards prayed their whole lives to be noticed by the Council, much less considered for a position. To be in Tynan’s place—hell, his own, Ice knew—should engender some reaction. Tynan simply laced his fingers and rested his hands on the table, looking impassive.
“And now to the business of filling MacKinnett’s empty seat,” Blackbourne went on. “I nominate Mathias d’Arc. He originates from a once-prominent family. No one can dispute that he is a wizard of great talents with the ability to inspire loyalty in others. That he’s returned and is determined to do good and bring change for magickind’s cause will benefit us, particularly since he may be the only one capable of quelling any pending Deprived uprising. Anyone opposed?”
Bram gritted his teeth, but nothing else gave away his disgust. Sterling and Tynan also remained silent. Denouncing Mathias now would do no good. He met the formal qualifications. His mettle would only be tested in the event of a tie as a result of the official vote. His character … only time would prove Blackbourne woefully wrong—after it was too late.
