The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(146)



It was the weirdest thing. As wound up as he was, when she gave him a direct order like that? He followed like a foot soldier.

“Predate the dissolution of marriage—mating—whatever. Don’t give them any rationale, you don’t want to look like it’s reactionary. Then decide whether or not you want to stay King. But that way? It’s not my fault. Right now, like it or not, I’m the reason you’re losing the throne, and I can’t go through the rest of our lives feeling responsible for something like that. It’ll kill me.”

“Sacrificing you is not the way—”

“We’re not sacrificing me in the slightest. I don’t care about being queen. I care about being by your side—and no crown or edict or whatever is going to change that.”

“You could be carrying our offspring right now. Are you saying you want to bring that young into the world a bastard?”

“They wouldn’t be to me. They wouldn’t be to you.”

“But to others…”

“Like who? You telling me Vishous would think the kid’s something less? Tohr? Rhage? Any of the Brothers—their shellans? What about Qhuinn and Blay—Qhuinn’s not mated to Layla. Does that mean you’d look down on that child?”

“This household’s not the ‘others’ I was talking about.”

“So who is, precisely? We never see the glymera—thank God—and I don’t believe I’ve ever met what you guys call a commoner. Well, except for Ehlena and Xhex, I guess. I mean, all these citizens of the race—they never come here, and is that going to change? I don’t think so.” She squeezed his arm again. “Besides, you were worried about putting our kid on the throne? This takes care of that problem, too.”

Wrath broke off from her hold on him and wanted to pace—except he didn’t know the weight room layout well enough not to land on his ass.

He settled for wiping his face again. “I don’t want the throne enough to divorce you. I just don’t. It’s the principle, Beth.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll divorce you.”

He blinked behind his wraparounds. “Not going to happen. I’m sorry, but I will not do this.”

His leelan’s voice cracked. “I can’t spend the rest of my life thinking it’s my fault. I just can’t.”

“But it isn’t. It honestly isn’t. Look, I just … I gotta let the past go, you know? I can’t hold on to my parents this way. That shit isn’t healthy.” He let his head fall back. “Goddamn, I mean, you’d figure I’d be over it by now. Losing them, that is.”

“I don’t think people ever get past that kind of thing—especially the way it happened to you.”

Flashes came back of his scrawny pretrans self locked in that crawl space, watching through a knothole in the wood as his parents were cut into pieces. It was always the same film reel, the same glints of sword blades and screams of pain and terror … and it always ended the same, with the two most important people in his life up to that point gone, gone, gone.

He wasn’t going to lose Beth. Not even in a figurative way.

“No,” he said with utter finality.

Reaching over, he put his hand on her womb. “I’ve lost my past and there’s nothing I can do to change that. I will not lose my future—even for the throne.”





FORTY-NINE


One of the problems with marriages, matings, whatever … was that when the person you loved laid down a veto? Not much you could do about it.

As Beth stepped out of the weight room with her hellren, she was popped-balloon deflated. Out of arguments, out of plans, she hated where they were, but all the avenues to a better place were obstructed by a “no” she couldn’t get past.

Instead of following him into the showers, she went to the office and sat at the desk, staring at the laptop’s screen saver of bubbles floating around the image of Outlook— The hot flash came out of nowhere, blasting up through her pelvis and spreading like a brushfire to the tips of her fingers, the soles of her feet, the crown of her head.

“Christ,” she muttered. “I could fry an egg on my chest over here.”

Billowing the collar of the nightgown helped a little, but then the internal oven blast was over as quick as it came, nothing but the cooling sweat on her skin left behind.

Swiping the screen saver off, she watched as Outlook updated itself with a send/receive. The account that was configured on this computer was the general mailbox for the King, and she braced herself for a long lineup of unread e-mails to start appearing at the top of the list.

There was only one.

A tangible representation of the switch in power, she supposed …

Frowning, she sat forward. The subject line read: Heavy Heart. And it was from a male whose name she recognized only because it had been on the list of signatures on that f*cking parchment.

Opening the thing, she read it once. Twice. And a third time.

To: Wrath, son of Wrath

From: Abalone, son of Abalone

Date: 04430 12:59:56

Subject: Heavy Heart



* * *



My lord, it is with a heavy heart that I greet the future. I was at the meeting of the Council and I executed the Vote of No Confidence, with its antiquated, prejudicial grounds. I am sick for myself and the race over the glymera’s actions of late, but more so over my lack of courage.

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