Demon’s Quest (High Demon #4)(50)
Author: Connie Suttle

"I’ll kill him myself," Lissa threw her napkin down, fuming. "I don’t give a damn if he is my grandfather. Did she say this to him personally? And whom did she name instead of Wyatt? My father is behind this, I know it." Lissa was nearly shouting, while Gavin, Drake and Drew were trying to calm her.

"Well, that’s it for me," Radolf tossed the letter onto the table. "You are all witnesses—I renounce my Karathian citizenship."

Tory sat at the bar inside Starshine, a popular nightclub on the outskirts of Quezlos, the capital city on Surnath. His sixth drink was in his hand and he was about to toss back what was left of it and order another. He’d gotten information through mindspeech from King Wylend, and although he’d known it wasn’t all the information available, he’d recognized the truth in Wylend’s words. Things had certainly taken a turn he hadn’t expected, and in between searching for information Lendill requested, he’d decided to get as drunk as possible.

"Well, hello, there." She was tall, black-haired, blue-eyed and lovely. She also made a point to brush against Tory as she took the barstool next to his. "What’s your name, stranger?"

"Torevik." While Tory was working to get drunk, he hadn’t achieved his objective, yet. Perhaps it was fortuitous that Lendill had sent him and Ry on an assignment, taking him away from Le-Ath Veronis and the other problems going on. He needed that separation, in order to make a decision involving his future.

"Torevik, how would you like to come home with me for a little while?" Her voice was breathy as she made her proposition.

"Can’t right now," Tory replied, turning his eyes away from the beautiful woman beside him.

"That’s too bad. Jealous wife?"

"Don’t have a wife. Never married her."

"Really? What’s the holdup, then?"

"Work. For now."

"Well, if you stop working, you know where to find me. My name’s Darletta." She handed a small card to Tory, accepted a drink from the bartender and walked away, swinging her hips suggestively. Tory watched her go, blinking in confusion. Perhaps the alcohol was finally taking effect. He sighed.

"Wylend, I never thought to see you punish someone because you employed an eavesdropping spell and picked up on a conversation two rooms away. She didn’t say it to you, personally," Erland pointed out. Wylend had eavesdropped on Reah’s conversation with Gavril, angry that he’d been shunted to the side after the attack on his intended Queen. "Did she mention a specific name? Not only that, but she wasn’t on Karathia when she said what she did. She was on Tulgalan, and subject to Alliance law."

"She did say a name, and I will not repeat it," Wylend shouted. "I cannot countenance a Queen who will second-guess every decision I make."

"As I understand it, this may be the first and only time that occurred, and since when can someone not be honest and speak their mind with a mate? I have said many things to you that could be considered treasonous."

"But you were not my Queen, Erland Morphis, nor will you ever be."

Erland knew there was no arguing with Wylend when he was in this state of mind. Wylend and any other warlock in a female cycle was moody upon occasion. This appeared to be one of those times. Wylend would come around and see sense; it could take a few days, however. The most damage had been done to Reah. Lissa, too, was seething—he’d already gotten angry mindspeech from his mate over the letter Reah had received. If Erland had known about it sooner, he’d have instructed that it wait a few days, considering Wylend was likely to cool down, see the folly of his ways and wish he could take it all back.

Corolan watched helplessly as Erland argued with Wylend. Wylend hadn’t consulted with him before writing and sending the letter. As a result, things were in the worst state of affairs. Reah had saved his life, at nearly the cost of her own. She’d have done the same for Wylend, too. He’d gotten mindspeech from Garek, telling him that Radolf had renounced his citizenship in front of witnesses. Wylend would have to grant it again before Radolf could return to Karathia. Wylend had not bothered to think this through, reacting to a perceived slight when no harm was intended. Corolan was about to react as well.

"My liege," he bowed to Wylend when Wylend stopped fuming for several ticks. Erland had settled in to listen to the King vent all his wrath.

"What is it, Corolan?" Wylend snapped.

"I will be visiting family for the next moon-turn." Corolan disappeared.

"What?" Wylend reached out, as if that would bring Corolan back.

"Reah took a laser bullet for Corolan," Erland said softly. "She would have done the same for you. Yet you, in an ill-tempered snit, decided to eavesdrop. We all get what we deserve at times, Wylend. Call if you need something." Erland disappeared as well. Wylend cursed—loudly and long.

Reah? Where are you, sweetheart? Teeg’s voice came in clear as the proverbial bell.

Do you think I’d tell you? You couldn’t wait to tell Wylend what I said about Wyatt not wanting to be his heir. Now, he’s tried and convicted me of treason, and banished me from Karathia. He withdrew his proposal as well. What did you hope to gain from this, Teeg? What?

I wept and shivered as I sent my reply, and refused to speak to him again while Teeg kept trying to convince me to do so. I had to close my mind off after a while—he was bombarding me with questions and denials. He was the only one, besides Farzi and Nenzi, who’d heard that conversation, and the reptanoids would never approach Wylend with information.

Besides, parts of what Wylend heard had never been spoken aloud to anyone else, which meant Teeg had certainly been the one who’d betrayed me. My thoughts, too, were an open book to most, so perhaps I should learn to shield them as well. I wondered, amid my sobs and sniffles, just how to go about it. Had I loved Wylend? That answer was yes. And I was coming to love Corolan. I would have to work through that—resign myself to never seeing them again.

We will not welcome you within Our presence from this day forward. Those had been his words. He was a King, while I was nothing. Just a cook, and a weak and wounded one in addition to that. But I knew, even if he didn’t, that my statement was true. Wyatt had said himself that he didn’t want the throne when I first met him. Anyone could see that he would glow if he were using his healing skills, and glower if he were serving in some official capacity with Wylend.

If the King of Karathia wished to wallow in his blindness and short-sightedness, then he was welcome to do so. Since I’d been banished from his sight, he no longer needed to worry that someone might question his perfect warlock world. That didn’t keep me from rolling in self-pity, however, and weeping pitifully while I did it.