This time I couldn’t stop the little cry of distress that left me. Everyone looked at me.
Okay, fine. I really did a crap job of hiding my feelings. I rubbed my forehead. Did I need this additional problem of trying to stop Amarantha from bearing a child of Lucifer’s bloodline even if I did manage to extract Gabriel from her? How many more intrigues would present themselves before all of this was over? There was a wolf-killer running around loose, and war had been declared on Lucifer’s kingdom. Samiel was still hanging around in the background somewhere and he definitely wanted my head. And somehow I was supposed to salvage this mess with Amarantha and try to get her to reestablish relations with Lucifer.
Priorities must be made. First thing first—there was no way I would be able to live with the idea that Gabriel had made a child with Amarantha. Never mind the politics. This was personal.
“How can I get Gabriel away from the queen?” I asked J.B.
“If she wants a child of Lucifer’s blood that badly, there’s probably nothing you can do,” he said grimly. “At least until she’s had her way.”
“That is not a productive thought,” I said. Maybe I could trade favors with the wolves. If they would help me with this, I could help them get what they wanted from the queen. “What about your negotiations with her for the land that you want? Did you manage to get her to concede?”
Wade shook his head. “Despite the insult of having a member of our pack killed within sight of her castle she still has not given us what we want.”
“And don’t expect her to anytime soon, even if she knows that she ought to,” J.B. said. “My mother could give a mountain lessons in stubbornness.”
“So there really isn’t an opening there,” I said. “Although maybe if I came forward as an additional witness . . .”
“But she’s pissed at you for threatening Focalor in front of everyone,” J.B. reminded me. “Your veracity as a witness would be lessened.”
“Right,” I said. “So I’ve got no leverage.”
“Other than the fact that you are of Lucifer’s bloodline,” a little voice growled.
I looked down to see that Beezle had finally woken up and was struggling out of my pocket. The two wolves who had not met Beezle before looked shocked that the inanimate object in my jacket was talking.
“So nice of you to join us,” I said.
“You think that just because I’m asleep I can’t hear what’s going on?” he said, finally managing to extract his squat lower half from my pocket. “I’m a gargoyle. We can hear everything, even when we’re stone.”
“It’s not the sleeping that would impair your hearing. It’s the snoring,” I said sweetly.
“Fine, if you’re going to be that way, then I won’t tell you my brilliant plan.”
I rolled my eyes. “So sorry, Beezle. Now spill.”
He hesitated for a moment, like he was going to make me apologize further. But Beezle’s desire to have his intelligence admired from all angles overrode his injured pride.
“Amarantha wants leverage over Lucifer, right? That’s why she wants a child of his bloodline,” Beezle said.
“Yes. Although I’m not sure that wouldn’t backfire on her,” I said thoughtfully. “The two courts would be tied together irrevocably.”
“Right,” Beezle said. “So it’s your job to convince her that having Gabriel’s kid would put her at a disadvantage, and then offer your services to her instead.”
“Services?” I said. “Not the kind of services she wants Gabriel to provide?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. No, you offer yourself as a kind of soldier when she wants backup.”
I could see a lot of problems with this plan. “First of all, I’m not a mercenary. Second of all, Lucifer probably would not be too happy if I allied myself with Amarantha, even temporarily. Third of all, having an extra hammer around to wield is nothing compared to having a tie of blood, even if that hammer is one of Lucifer’s.”
Beezle crossed his arms grumpily. “So what’s your brilliant plan, then?”
“To do whatever it takes to get Gabriel back.”
Wade looked at me speculatively. “Be careful. You wouldn’t want Amarantha to know that. She is excellent at taunting you with what you most desire.”
“And she’ll make you bleed for it in the process,” J.B. added.
A little pain was nothing if it meant getting Gabriel away from the queen’s clutches.
Amarantha wasn’t pleased with me at the moment, but surely she wouldn’t refuse an audience with her son.
“J.B., do you think you could get me in to see your mom?”
He looked troubled. “If that’s what you really want.”
What I really wanted was to be at home again with Gabriel and Beezle and all of this court nonsense forgotten.
“That’s what I really want.”
Even if I had to bleed to get it.
14
THE WOLVES CLEARED OUT WHEN J.B. AND I LEFT FOR Amarantha’s rooms. It would look too much like we were ganging up on the queen if we all went. Also, I was hoping that in the privacy of her rooms and away from her courtiers, she would be more reasonable.
Although I wasn’t holding out a ton of hope.
“Where’s Nathaniel this morning?” J.B. asked casually as he led me toward the wing of the castle that held the family rooms.
“Probably licking his wounds,” Beezle sniggered.
I glared at Beezle, who was perched on my shoulder again.
“So he’s the one who hit you,” J.B. said. “I thought so.”
“Nobody said that.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I took care of it, okay? So there’s no need to go all manly about it,” I said.
J.B. looked like he wanted to argue, but then closed his mouth. “Fine. I respect your ability to take care of yourself.”
I looked at him, shocked. I was so accustomed to everyone treating me like a helpless idiot that it was both surprising and refreshing to hear J.B. acknowledge that I was neither.
“You did survive Ramuell on your own, after all,” he said.
“She did not,” Beezle argued. “She got her human heart torn out.”
“Am I here or what?” I said crossly. “That constitutes survival.”
“The queen’s private chambers are at the top of this flight of stairs,” J.B. said. “I’ve sent a message ahead for Violet to expect to receive us.”
“And Violet would do just anything for you,
Jonquil
,” I said.
He looked at me mildly despite the provocation. “If you’re going to go all gooey-eyed whenever Gabriel is in the room, then you have no right to act jealous if I’m with another woman.”
I glanced down at the floor, properly chastised. “Point taken.”
“But I’d still prefer you to anyone in the world.”
I looked up, pleased and confused, which was the way I often felt around J.B. I smiled, but we had reached the top of the stairs. J.B. knocked on the door and Violet let us in, giving me a sideways glare.
“I did not expect Ambassador Black to accompany you,” she cooed.
“She needs to have a word with my mother,” J.B. said. “I thought I could speak with you in private while they did that.”
Violet glowed with pleasure at the thought of some private conversation with the prince. She left us in the receiving room, which looked a lot like Amarantha’s receiving room downstairs, and went into an inner chamber to consult with the queen.
I couldn’t tell if J.B. was playing it up so that I could get my audience with the queen or playing it up for his own sake, but as he’d pointed out, I’d no right to be jealous. Even if I was. A really tiny bit.
I wasn’t sure what my plan of action was, but a few moments later Violet returned and indicated with a curt nod of her head that I was to enter.
“The gargoyle, however, must stay.”
“Beezle comes with me everywhere,” I said, surprised. Amarantha had never seen Beezle as a threat before.
“The gargoyle must stay,” Violet repeated. “Or you may forfeit your audience with the queen.”
Digging my heels in about Beezle didn’t seem the smartest way to begin, so I reluctantly let him fly off my shoulder to land on the fireplace mantel. He didn’t say anything, but his face had a scrunched-up, worried look.
I entered the inner chamber.
Amarantha had obviously arranged a little display for my discomfort. She was wearing nothing but a diaphanous negligee that left zero to the imagination and she had draped her centerfold body over a red velvet chaise. Her left hand picked at a small plate of fruit while her right held a black satin leash attached to Gabriel’s neck.
She had arranged him on the floor like a dog at her feet. He had been washed, and oiled, and the black feathers of his wings shone with gloss. She had even put him in a loincloth. He looked up at me when I entered but then looked away, like he was embarrassed to have me see him that way.
The overall effect was so cheesy, so
obvious
, that I would have laughed had it not been Gabriel attached to the leash. As it was, I had a hard time keeping my legs steady. Until I saw the smug look of satisfaction on Amarantha’s face. Then I was overwhelmed by a burning need to smack her six ways from Sunday.
“Yes, Ambassador Black?” she purred, and popped a grape in her mouth. I saw her pull the leash a little tighter, as if assuring herself that Gabriel was still hers.
I considered and discarded several plans of action, and then decided it was best to act like myself. I never did well when I tried to play the formality game.
“You know why I’m here,” I said. “Gabriel is not yours to own, and I want him returned to the court of Azazel.”
“I do not think you are in a position to make demands, Ambassador Black. You have insulted me by threatening a guest in my court with bodily harm.”
She stroked her painted nails through Gabriel’s hair. I was mesmerized by the sight, and a little nauseated. When I looked up again, I saw that she had been watching my face, and that made me angry.
“Look, your skin show might impress other people, but mostly I think it just shows how little class you have. It’s very difficult to take you seriously as royalty when you’re dressed like a stripper.”
Her eyes flashed and she stood up from the chaise. Christ, she was even wearing teeter-totter strappy heels. All she needed was a pole and a few dollar bills.
“Now you insult me to my face,” she said, and as she stalked toward me she pulled on Gabriel’s leash. He crawled forward at her heels, his head down. “I will be happy to inform Lord Lucifer that his granddaughter is obviously not interested in reestablishing relations between our courts.”
“Don’t try to threaten me with Lucifer,” I said. “Especially since you’re the one who wants your relationship to be a lot closer than it is now.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, and I wondered if it was prudent to mention that I was informed of her baby plan. Then again, it was a lever, and I didn’t have too many of those.
“What are you speaking of?” she hissed.
I smiled. “I am the Morningstar’s granddaughter. I know more than you think.”
I could see the neurons firing behind her eyes as she rapidly calculated how much I could possibly know. She tried for bravado.
“I do not know to what you are referring,” she said haughtily.
“Yep, you want to be a lot closer with Lucifer.” I tapped her on the tummy, just to make sure she knew that I knew.
Her teeth ground together as she realized I was onto her. I was sure she didn’t want word of this getting back to Lucifer before the bun was in the oven. The whole point of a secret plan is to surprise your enemies.
“I cannot give up the thrall,” she said, trying a different tack. “He was a gift from Lord Focalor and it would be an insult to him to return such a gift.”
“You could regift,” I suggested. “And by the way, don’t think you’re not playing with fire with Focalor. Lucifer is definitely not going to be happy with you for negotiating with one of his underlings.”
“Then Lord Lucifer should keep better tabs on his own kingdom,” Amarantha shot back. “What I do in my own court is my business.”
“Unless you’re rather stupidly being maneuvered into getting between Focalor and Lucifer. In which case your kingdom will probably burn to the ground while they work out their differences,” I said.
From the look on her face I would say that this hadn’t occurred to her.
“Look,” I said urgently, trying to take advantage while she seemed unsure. “Give me Gabriel and we’ll go—me, Nathaniel, everyone. Tell Focalor that you need to consider carefully before you cross Lucifer, but leave the door open for future relations. Then he’ll take his toys and go home, too, and you’ll be out of it. In the meantime, I’ll get Lucifer on the problem and hopefully this little rebellion will be squashed before it goes anywhere.”
“And what if it is not, as you say, ‘squashed’?” she asked slowly.