Dragos Goes to Washington (Elder Races #8.5)(41)

“We’re great.” She threaded her fingers through his black, silky hair. “And I’m excited that I get to go off bed rest in the morning.”

“I’m excited too.” He tilted his head so that he could look up at her. “Did the doctor clear you for normal activities?”

“I know what you really mean.” She tapped his nose with one finger. “And yes, I’m cleared to resume normal activities in the morning.”

He grabbed her finger and kissed it. “I can’t wait. And you got your shot. How do you feel?”

“I feel tired again, and my arm hurts a bit, but Dr. Medina said that’s all normal. She said she can give me the shot every two weeks in the evening, so I can just go to bed afterward.” She made a face and shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He didn’t let go of her hand. Instead, he rubbed her fingers against his mouth.

Warmth spread through her at the gentle caress. She urged, “Tell me what else is new.”

“You’ve already heard the great news this evening,” he said against her fingers. “But there is also some not so great news, too.”

“Oh, no.” Her heart sank. “What’s happened now?”

“Today we were talking about what measures the demesne leaders could take that would lessen the risk of violence instigated by the Elder Races, and some goddamn fool in Ben’s administration got the bright idea that we could ‘foster good will and peace among the demesnes’ by having all seven leaders commit to sending a family member to visit another demesne for a week sometime in the next six months.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she exclaimed. “It sounds exactly like some stupid, useless program the government would come up with. That’s like the nobility who used to send their children to live with other nobles as hostages. What do they think, that we’re living in the Middle Ages?”

He cocked a sardonic eyebrow. “That’s precisely where they said they got the idea. Several of us objected most strenuously, but after a lengthy argument, it was put to a vote. The majority agreed to the measure.” He frowned and growled, “I hate decisions by consensus.”

“But you only have two family members, me and Liam. Well, you have three now, but the littlest one isn’t going anywhere without me for a really long time, and I’m telling you right now, Dragos—Liam is not going to visit any other demesne on his own. I don’t care how many bodyguards you put on him.”

“Of course he isn’t.” Dragos’s frown hadn’t lessened.

“Which leaves me,” she said flatly. “Of course.”

“That was acknowledged in the meeting.” He paused. “Almost everybody at our dinner party saw you faint two nights ago, and know you’re on bed rest for some mysterious ailment, so Niniane pushed to extend the time limit on the Wyr visitation, and the others agreed. You now have a year, which does us no good whatsoever, because you’ll have the baby then.”

“Ugh, this is awful,” she stared at him. “Do I at least get to pick where I go, and who I visit? I could go see Niniane in Chicago.”

He rolled to his feet and strode over to a small liquor cart tucked into a corner. As he poured himself a scotch, he said, “No such luck. The f*ckers drew straws.”

The space over her left eye was beginning to throb. She pressed against it with three fingers. “Don’t tell me I’m supposed to go visit the Elves again.”

“Nope. You’re supposed to visit the Light Fae demesne in Los Angeles. Tatiana told me to tell you, she’s delighted.”

“And I’m supposed to spend an entire week with her?” She threw up her hands. “Oy vey.”

He tossed back his drink and poured another. “I didn’t want to f*cking talk about it anymore, so I shut up. But we’re not going to comply. Nobody tells me where I should send my family.”

She flung herself back on her pillows in exasperation and stared at the ceiling. If he did that, an idea that was supposed to foster good will and peace among the demesnes, HA! would end up causing more bickering and discord than ever.

“Stop,” she said. “If we dig in our heels, it will only create the kind of resentment the whole damn thing is supposed to alleviate. It’s not worth it. I’ll go.”

Angling his head, Dragos turned to look at her. “No, you bloody well won’t.”

She just looked at him. “Come on, it’ll only be for a week. We’ll suck it up and get it over with.”

But she knew better than to say, what’s the worst that could happen? Because they already saw how badly that could go, when she went to visit the Elves earlier that year.

He was wearing that stubborn expression of his that said he wasn’t going to budge, no matter what. “You’re not going anywhere without me. Period. And I wasn’t invited.”

She started to laugh. “When has that ever stopped you from doing anything?”

Did his scowl lessen just the tiniest bit? “Well, that’s true.”

“Let me get this straight—did anybody tell you that you couldn’t go?”

The fierce scowl disappeared, and he began to smile. “It was implied, but actually, no.”

“Well, there you are, then,” she said. “We got all wound up over this for nothing.”