Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 59: The Politics of Power

I watched from the desk as Keel looked over the clothes Ephraim laid out on our bed for our meeting with the sorcerers. Since it would take place in the human world, with his people, we'd welcomed his advice, and while Keel seemed pleased enough with my father's choices for him, his brow crinkled at the long black skirt and tight-necked sweater he'd chosen for me.

"He doesn't want the first thing the sorcerers see to be your marks," I explained. "You only get one chance to make a first impression and all that."

He frowned. "You are my wife. My queen."

"I know that and they know that, but what we see when we look at us is not what they will see."

"You shouldn't have to cover up for them. You are royalty."

"Maybe not, but we have to meet halfway if this is going to work. That means culturally too. You and Ephraim got a door open, let's not get it slammed in our faces."

Keel sat down on the mattress and rubbed his temples. "And you think you have nothing to offer; I'd be shouting at your father in the hallway right now if you weren't here to be the voice of reason."

I stood, crossed to the bed and kneeled before him. "I know you're territorial, and that the Nosferatu parts of you want the sorcerers to know who I hold allegiance to, but they already know and you already know. I am yours in every way I can be yours. They don't need to know every one of our intimacies. It's not like the marks won't still be there under my sweater."

His lips moved to my forehead, cooling my skin. "For all the things I was taught, inter-species diplomacy was not one of them."

"I don't suspect it's high on any Nosferatu enclave's curriculum."

"Yet here we are."

"Yes, here we are, and you'll do fine," I promised. "Just be open and fair. I doubt any of these sorcerers ever thought they'd be having a meeting like this either."

"You know, if Ephraim hadn't been the one who worked out the details, I'd think it was a trap. An easy way to scoop us up and assassinate us both."

"It's not a trap," I assured him, taking his hands. "My father wouldn't do that. Not now."

"But even a year ago." A shadow crossed his face.

"Yes, but a lot of things can change in a year." I slipped his hand into the slit of my robe and placed it on the symbol that wed us. "Besides if it is a trap, we'll just blow the place up."

The shadow deepened. "Don't joke. We've nearly heralded in Extinction Day as it is."

"I know, but the point I was trying to make is that we're not helpless. We may be under attack, but we're not walking into this meeting from a position of weakness."

Keel's lips lifted into a smile. "Maybe I should let you do the talking."

"Hell no." I got to my feet. "I've met the same number of sorcerers you have, and I have no idea what these ones are going to be like."

"Well, I suppose we'll find out soon enough," Keel said, and picked up his suit and tie. I collected my own clothes from the bed and slipped them on, stealing not-so-furtive glances at my husband whenever I didn't have a zipper or button to focus on. He looked damned good in a three-piece suit. With his nails filed down and contacts in, his tall lanky figure, slightly mussed hair and sharp cheekbones gave him the air of a European fashion model. Impossibly angular, but in an underfed sort of way. If you looked closer, though, you could see the "not rightness," the incongruences that tug at the edges of your perception. But no one would look that deep, humans are masters of seeing only what they want, the surface, and his surface was pleasant indeed. By comparison, the sweater and pencil skirt made me look like a librarian or a particularly dour grade school teacher, yet there was no sense in complaining about it when I'd just told Keel not to.