The King's War

3. The Delegation

NATHANIEL

James Aldridge, the Duke of Virginia, filled me in on the gaps in Melanie's account of Sheridan's death. He'd been there for the most trying part of it, and recounted a rather harrowing tale of betrayal, revenge, and murder. However, the most alarming part was Sabine Ambrose's involvement. Namely, her short-lived stint as a witch.

If I were capable of having a heart attack, I'd have been on the floor, in desperate need for a defibrillator if when James told me about that. A magically empowered Sabine Ambrose was not something the world was ready for.

It's not that I despised the girl. Sure, I'd allowed her entry into the competition and kept her around far longer than most would have purely because of her connections, not because of her dazzling personality. Her family were wealthy investors whose good side it was best for me to stay on. And James's loyalty was hardly stable, given his and Sheridan's well known friendship.

Though I couldn't discredit Sabine entirely. Her antics were certainly entertaining. She was smart and driven, but not in the right ways. She was prone to making enemies, and took a particular loathing to Avery. At the time, I felt it was better for me to Avoid disappointing James by sending her home early for her abrasiveness, but I saw the error of that decision now.

Well, one upside to this predicament was that I didn't have to worry about James's loyalties anymore. With Sheridan dead, he had nowhere to turn if our relationship soured.

"How are you, James?" I asked once I was finished processing his story.

The events he'd witnessed in New Orleans had changed James. He'd always been a bit of a mystery, always hiding behind a mask of Southern charm and propriety. It made working with him particularly frustrating. I never knew where we stood.

Now it seemed as if he no longer had the energy to keep that mask up. He didn't appear to have the energy for anything really. There was a tired, haunted look about him, like he'd just come back from war.

"I'm fine," James replied with curt predictability. I'd extended my sympathies in friendship, and James responded by building the wall between us even higher, as always.

"No one would blame you if you took some time off from your duties. Your friend was just killed, after all," I told him. Granted, their friendship had apparently soured considerably in Sheridan's final moments, but it was clear that didn't stop James from being distraught over his death.

"I've had almost two weeks," James replied.

"Two weeks is hardly enough time to grieve someone you've known over a century." Not that I would know. The only close associate I've had that fit that time frame was the very much alive Balthazar Hale, but I imagine I'd be quite distraught over his sudden demise.

James's blue eyes turned steely. "Sheridan was many things to many people. But he wasn't my friend when he died. He'd forfeited the right to be mourned."

I wasn't sure I agreed. There had been several vampires I'd known over the years who'd perished while on bad terms with me, especially during the war. That didn't affect my regrets about their deaths in any way, and only served to increase my desire for reconciliation. But if James insisted on stewing in his resentment, I wasn't going to press the issue.

James's expression turned uncertain all of a sudden. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'd like to ask a favor."

"Go on," I replied, my curiosity piqued.

"Sabine has the closest connection to the witch out of anyone alive. People will want to use her in order to take the witch down. I can't allow that to happen. She's been through enough," James said solemnly.