In the midst of a carved bed, Rehvenge was lying still as a corpse, a red velvet duvet pulled up to his chin and sable folds draped over his body. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, his skin pasty and tinged with yellow. His close-cropped mohawk was the only thing that looked remotely normal…that and the fact that standing at his right hand was Xhex, that half-breed symphath female who looked like she performed castrations for fun and profit.
Rehv’s eyes opened, and the amethyst color was dulled to a murky bruised purple. “It’s the king.”
“S’up.”
Trez shut the doors, parking it to the side and not in the middle to block the way as a measure of respect. “I already offered them libations and eats.”
“Thanks, Trez.” Rehv grimaced and made a move to push himself off the pillows. When he just sagged, Xhex leaned in to help him, and he shot her a glare that smacked of don’t-even-think-about-it. Which she ignored.
After he was settled upright, he pulled the duvet up to his neck, covering the red stars tatted on his chest. “So I have something for you, Wrath.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Rehv nodded at Xhex, who reached into the leather jacket she was wearing. The instant she moved, V’s gun muzzle flipped up quick as a blink, aimed square at the female’s heart.
“You want to slow that roll?” she snapped to V.
“Not in the slightest. Sorry.” V sounded about as sorry as a wrecking ball in midswing.
“Okay, let’s just relax,” Wrath said, and inclined his head toward Xhex. “Go ahead.”
The female pulled free a velvet bag and tossed it in Wrath’s direction. As it came at him, he heard the soft whistle of its flight and caught the thing not by sight, but by sound.
Inside were two pale blue eyes.
“So, I had an interesting meeting last night,” Rehv drawled.
Wrath looked at the symphath. “Whose blank stare do I have in my palm.”
“Montrag, son of Rehm. He came to me and asked me to kill you. You got deep enemies in the glymera, my friend, and Montrag’s only one of them. I don’t know who else was in on the plot, but I wasn’t taking any chances at finding out before we took action.”
Wrath put the eyes back in the bag and closed his fist around them. “When were they going to do it.”
“At the council meeting, the night after tomorrow.”
“Son of a bitch.”
V put his gun away and crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, I despise those motherfuckers.”
“Speaking to the choir,” Rehv said before refocusing on Wrath. “I didn’t come to you before I solved the problem because I’m kind of sweet on the idea of the king owing me something.”
Wrath had to laugh. “Sin-eater.”
“You know it.”
Wrath jogged the bag in his hand. “When did this happen?”
“About a half hour ago,” Xhex answered. “I didn’t clean up after myself.”
“Well, they’ll certainly get the message. And I’m still going to that meeting.”
“You sure that’s wise?” Rehv said. “Whoever else is behind this will not come to me again, because they know where my loyalties appear to lie. But that doesn’t mean they won’t find someone else.”
“So let them,” Wrath said. “I’m down with mortal combat.” He glanced at Xhex. “Montrag implicate anyone?”
“I slit his throat from ear to ear. Talk was tough.”
Wrath smiled and glanced at V. “You know, it’s kind of a surprise you two don’t get along better.”
“Not really,” they said at the same time.
“I can postpone the council meeting,” Rehv murmured. “If you want to do recon yourself to see who else was involved.”
“Nope. If they had balls of any size, they’d have tried to kill me themselves, not get you to do it. So one of two things is going to happen. Since they don’t know whether Montrag outted them before he became visually impaired, they’re either going to go into hiding, because that’s what cowards do, or they’re going to shift the blame to someone else. So the meeting goes on.”
Rehv smiled darkly, the symphath in him obvious. “As you wish.”
“I want an honest answer from you, though,” Wrath said.
“What’s the question.”
“For real, did you think about killing me? When he asked.”
Rehv was a silent for a bit. Then he slowly nodded. “Yeah, I did. But like I said, you owe me now, and given my…circumstances of birth, as it were…that’s far more valuable than what any smarmy-ass aristocrat can do for me.”