April and June followed my example and piled treats on a small plate, as did Felix. Great Aunt Marraine sipped at some kind of fruity drink that I dearly hoped didn’t have alcohol or this meeting was going to be a lot more interesting than I wanted, and Momoko only took a cup of tea while Mr. Clark declined any refreshments—though he shook his head in amazement.
“This food is amazing,” Felix whisper-hissed to me.
“Yep,” I agreed.
“Shall we begin?” Killian asked.
I took a bite of my donut—which had the most delicious glaze that it made me instantly drool. “Yeah.”
“Very well. I, Killian Drake of the Drake Family and Eminence of the Midwest, would like to extend an official invitation for an alliance between us,” Killian said.
I ate another bite of my donut and critically eyed him—though it was pretty hard to be critical when I was eating heaven covered in a sugary glaze. “Why?”
“It would be beneficial to both House Medeis and Drake Family,” Killian said. “In multiple ways, of course, but first and foremost it would give us a united front and shared forces and intelligence against the Night Court.”
“You expect more trouble from them.”
Up went one of Killian’s eyebrows—the angle of it indicated he was somewhat surprised. “You don’t?”
“I do.” I watched his eyebrow return to its regular position as I ate the last bit of my donut—which I had eaten too fast and was now left feeling a little mournful at its passing. “I think we have a little time, though. They’re going to get the book thrown at them for attacking you in the Curia Cloisters—particularly in the middle of a multi-race meeting. It’s going to take them some time to recover from that.”
“Agreed,” Killian said.
“But we’d better use the time to our advantage and prepare for a war,” I said. “Before I thought they’d just plague you for a few decades before giving up. But since they broke Cloister law…” I shook my head. “I’m pretty sure they aren’t going to stop until they kill you, or until you crush them.”
Killian’s shrug was miniscule. “That is roughly what I’ve estimated as well. At worst, they’ll declare war on us. At best, we might get a certamen.”
Certamen was a super old term used to describe what was essentially a trial by combat.
In an effort to minimize loss of life among supernaturals and limit—if not outright ban—war between us, roughly a hundred years ago the movers and shakers of supernaturals had gotten together and come up with certamen.
With the drain of magic, war became dangerous for our entire community—which was already pretty fragile. Certamen was supposed to limit the slaughter because it was kind of like a cross between a duel—with all its rules—and a one-battle war.
Opponents were given one opportunity to face each other on the battlefield. The winner of the fight picked the terms of surrender for the loser, and whatever enmity or event that had pushed the two sides into the certamen was considered solved.
There usually were some casualties, but the numbers were tiny compared to the wars that used to last decades between feuding factions.
There hadn’t been too many conflicts in the USA, so I had never met anyone who had taken part in a certamen before. They were more popular in Europe—I suspect because all the Houses, Courts, Families, and Packs over there had a much longer and far more bloody history with each other than we did here in the relatively young country of the USA.
“And,” Killian continued, “you’ve made your House a secondary target by standing with me.”
“I didn’t stand with you.” My voice was sharp, and I pushed my empty plate away from me. “What they did was wrong. It was illegal, dishonorable, and it risked the lives of everyone in that room. I stood against them.”
“Perhaps,” Killian said. “But you said we needed to use this time to prepare. I assume, then, that you agree to my proposal?” To his credit, Killian didn’t look smug, or smirk, or show any kind of emotion that would show insincerity for an alliance. He appeared to be completely serious.
And I had to think he was.
Killian was brilliant. Even if he’d changed his mind and decided he wanted me around again, he wasn’t oblivious to the way my much smaller group of wizards had turned the tides on the fae. We were worthy of his respect, and an excellent chess piece for him to use. He really did want this alliance.
Which was great, because I did, too—with some big caveats.
I glanced at Great Aunt Marraine, who was seated next to me and patted my thigh under the table. She’d gone through my list of requests with me line by line every day since she’d learned about the meeting. We could do this.
I took a deep breath. “I’ll agree to an alliance, should you agree to my requirements.”
“Name them,” Killian said.
“I want a written, signed agreement that we’ll share all information and intelligence we receive about the Night Court and their plans,” I said. “You will not conveniently leave out any details, or fail to tell us about a new movement.”
Again, up went an eyebrow. “You don’t want me to act without your knowledge.”
“Yes.” My smile was brittle. “Because you’ve proven to be untrustworthy.”
“Fair enough. What else?”
“I want Gavino.” I held my breath and tried to gauge his reaction.
Killian narrowed his eyes. “What?”
“I want Gavino to live at House Medeis for six months, and work as a trainer for my wizards,” I said. “During that time he won’t be available for regular vampire duties—so you can’t use him as your plant and yank him out whenever it suits you. But if we’re going to a fight then we’ll agree he should stand with the vampires.”
Killian rapidly blinked, then looked quizzically at me. “You want him as a trainer?”
“House Medeis now has a large gym, including a pretty nice arrangement of weights and lifting machines,” I said. “I’ve hired a martial artist and a weapons trainer who come by once or twice a week, but I want my people to have the same base fitness training I had. If possible, I’d also like him to train us in more self-defense maneuvers.”
Killian turned to look at Gavino, who had first looked shocked and maybe a little terrified at my initial suggestion, but was now thoughtfully folding his arms across his chest. The big vampire nodded at Killian.
“That could be arranged, provided you’re willing to make allowances so he can live at House Medeis,” Killian said.
“We’ll get him a blood delivery, and provide a room with the right kind of drapes to block sunlight.” I sat straighter in my chair.
This was one of the demands I thought Killian would bargain to drive me down on—I figured at best he’d send Gavino over for a day or two during the week. I was a little giddy at the thought of having Gavino on hand to train us whenever we liked. Since we added to our numbers there were almost thirty House Medeis adult wizards, and I’d probably have him do some sessions with the teenagers as well…
“If you’re willing, then I don’t think it will be a problem,” Killian said, interrupting my glee. “What else?”
For the next half hour I laid out my more strategic requirements—that we fight together but keep our Family and House business separate, and once the conflict with the Night Court was over the ties to our alliance would be looser—so he couldn’t permanently insert himself into House Medeis business.
It was mostly boring legal stuff, with a few fighting provisions—we each separately commanded our people, blah, blah, blah. (We wouldn’t have to bother with it usually, except this was Killian Drake. We needed things to be as clear and straightforward as possible, or he’d find a loop hole.) But there was one final requirement I really wanted, and I wasn’t quite sure how it would shake out.
Killian looked up from the printed paper that had my list of requirements—as recorded by Julianne on a laptop. “Is there anything else?” he asked. “Or shall we draw the documents up?”
“No, I have one last requirement.”
Great Aunt Marraine whipped her head around to look at me so quickly that the blue streak in her gray hair was a blur. She stared intently at me, and I could feel her confusion and apprehension.
I held in a wince—I hadn’t dared to tell her about this demand. I knew she wouldn’t go for it, but it was important.
I tried to seem relaxed and casual as I gave Killian a shallow, business-like smile. “I want to continue my training here at Drake Hall at least once a week for the next six months.”
Great Aunt Marraine grabbed my thigh and squeezed, and I could hear the faint wheeze of air escaping her lungs.
Undeterred, I added, “If my presence is distasteful to the vampires at Drake Hall, I can be trained at House Medeis as long as skilled vampires come to teach me.”
Since leaving Drake Hall, I had understandably stalled in my combat training.
My family was picking up on the magic skills I’d learned at Drake Hall—like the magic shield—at a much faster rate than I had. Part of that was I was able to actually show them what to do. When I’d been in their position, I was blindly feeling about with only pictures from a book to help me.
But I wasn’t satisfied with my current level of fighting. And while I could keep working on my magic abilities since the Paragon had dropped off the book, I really needed the combat experience the Drake Family provided when I practiced with them. And sadly Gavino wasn’t going to cut it, or I wouldn’t have to ask for this.
“That’s acceptable.” Killian stabbed a straw into a blood pouch and sucked it down quickly. “It will work well with my requirement.”
I warily eyed him. “And that is?”
Killian smirked, losing the business-like manner he’d held on to since we sat down. “My requirement is that once a month, during these next six months while you are getting training and support, you have to stay at Drake Hall.”