Lover Avenged(2)

“Ah…yes.” Montrag parked it again and frowned, like he had no idea why he felt differently about his maid. “Er…yes, it is. My father bought it many years ago. He had exquisite taste, didn’t he? We built this room for it because it is so very large, and the color of the walls was chosen specifically to bring out the peach tones.”

Montrag looked around the study and smiled to himself as he sipped, his pinkie out in the breeze like a flag.

“How’s your tea?”

“Perfect, but won’t you have some?”

“Not a tea drinker.” Rehv waited until the cup was up to the male’s lips. “So you were talking about murdering Wrath?”

Montrag sputtered, Earl Grey dappling the front of his bloodred smoking jacket and hitting Daddy’s peachy-keen rug.

As the male batted at the stains with a limp hand, Rehv held out a napkin. “Here, use this.”

Montrag took the damask square, awkwardly patted at his chest, then swiped the rug with equal lack of effect. Clearly, he was the kind of male who made messes, not cleaned them up.

“You were saying,” Rehv murmured.

Montrag ditched the napkin on the tray and got to his feet, leaving his tea behind as he paced around. He stopped in front of a large mountain landscape and seemed to admire the dramatic scene with its spotlit colonial soldier praying to the heavens.

He spoke to the painting. “You are aware that so many of our blooded brethren have been taken down in the raids by the lessers.”

“And here I thought I’d been made leahdyre of the council just because of my sparkling personality.”

Montrag glared over his shoulder, his chin cocked in classic aristocratic fashion. “I lost my father and my mother and all of my first cousins. I buried each one of them. Think you that is a joy?”

“My apologies.” Rehv put his right palm over his heart and bowed his head, even though he didn’t give a shit. He was not going to be manipulated by the recitation of losses. Especially when the guy’s emotions were all about greed, not grief.

Montrag turned his back to the painting, his head taking the place of the mountain the colonial soldier was on…so that it looked like the little man in the red uniform was trying to climb up his ear.

“The glymera has sustained unparalleled losses from the raids. Not just lives, but property. Houses raided, antiques and art taken, bank accounts disappearing. And what has Wrath done? Nothing. He’s given no response to repeated inquiries about how those families’ residences were found…why the Brotherhood didn’t stop the attacks…where all those assets went. There is no plan to make sure it never happens again. No assurance that, if what few remaining members of the aristocracy return to Caldwell proper, we are protected.” Montrag really got on a roll, his voice rising and bouncing off the crown molding and gilded ceiling. “Our race is dying out and we need real leadership. By law, though, if Wrath’s heart beats within his chest, he is king. Is the life of one worth the lives of many? Search your heart.”

Oh, Rehv was looking into it, all right, black, evil muscle that it was. “And then what.”

“We take control and do what is right. During his tenure, Wrath has restructured things… Look at what has been done to the Chosen. They are now allowed to tally on this side-unheard of! And slavery is outlawed, along with sehclusion for females. Dearest Virgin Scribe, next thing you know there’ll be someone wearing a skirt in the Brotherhood. With us in charge, we can reverse what he has done and recast the laws properly to preserve the old ways. We can organize a new offensive against the Lessening Society. We can triumph.”

“You’re using a lot of wes here, and somehow I don’t think that’s exactly what you are thinking.”

“Well, of course there needs to be an individual who is first among equals.” Montrag smoothed the lapels of his smoking jacket and angled his head and body as if he were posing for a bronze statue or maybe a dollar bill. “A chosen male who is of stature and worth.”

“And in what manner is this paragon going to be picked?”

“We’re going to move to a democracy. A long-overdue democracy that shall replace the unjust and unfair convention of monarchy…”

As a whole lot of blah-blah-blahing got its groove on, Rehv eased back, crossed his legs at the knees, and steepled his fingers. Sitting on Montrag’s fluffy sofa, the two halves him of warred, the vampire and the symphath clashing.

The only bene was that the internal shouting match droned out the sound of all that nasally I-know-everything.

The opportunity was obvious: Get rid of the king and seize control of the race.