“Good news, then you can leave today,” Killian said. “Because it is most assuredly my existence he is plaguing right now, simply by existing here in Magiford.”
“Careful.” I sipped at my glass of blood, which was pleasantly chilled and had a balanced flavor. “If you talk about me much nicer, I’ll think you actually like me, Killian.”
Killian smirked, but the looks of alarm that flickered on Auberi’s and Amée’s faces reminded me that I usually was more controlled around the other Dracos offspring, and I felt my weariness settle back on me like a cloak.
Ambrose should have better prepared them for immortal life. The idiot.
“I heard from Jargal,” Margarida reported, referring to another one of the Dracos siblings. Ambrose had turned Jargal when we were passing through the Mongolian empire in the mid-1200s.
Jargal was the last of the Dracos children that I tolerated. He was decently competent and ran his Luu Family well enough that none of his underlings came bleating to me about it. His only shortcoming was that he unfortunately had a penchant for falling asleep for long periods if I didn’t drop in on him every few years, so he still annoyed me.
“Did he mention if he was feeling particularly sleepy?” I innocently asked.
“No,” Margarida said. “He did say that he was matching wits against some particularly murderous fae who are trying to fight him for land rights since their realm is shrinking. He said he was jealous of you, Killian, that the fae in the United States have found a fae empress.”
“The Night Queen is not the empress quite yet,” Killian said, studying his heated mug of blood. “Although she has recently acquired a deep-seated dislike of incompetent accountants—something about the fae on the East coast being behind with their federal taxes.”
Baldwin poured hot sauce onto his steak—some vampires favored spicey foods as we could actually taste the flavors. “Fascinating,” he sneered.
I set my mug down on the table, flicking my eyes towards the nervous vampire when he flinched. “Perhaps you should learn from her example, Baldwin.”
“My problem is not the human’s pitiful government, but you!” Baldwin angrily stabbed at his steak, which was red enough to make even Auberi eye him.
“I’m sure I have no idea where all your money went,” I said. “I am happy to share, however, I was able to recently purchase new properties in France and England, and I definitely used only my money to buy them.”
Killian rolled his eyes, but his siblings were quiet. Margarida was oblivious to the tension as she was grazing from the prepared dishes of food, but Baldwin, Auberi, and Amée’s expressions all tightened.
Several long moments passed, where the only noise was the clinking of dishes and the rustle of clothes.
“I hear you’ve been playing house with a wizard, Killian?” Auberi’s lip curled before he took a swig of his drink.
Killian didn’t visibly react, but I could feel his anger like a sharpened spear pressing at my jugular.
“Oh, yes!” Margarida beamed. “Is she pretty?”
“Beautiful,” Killian said without hesitation.
“Please,” Baldwin scoffed. “Humans can’t match a fae in beauty, much less a vampire.”
I considered the thought and disregarded it.
Jade didn’t have the waif-like delicate beauty of a typical vampire, but early in my immortal life I’d learned that pretty packaging didn’t matter when you wanted to crush what it covered. Jade’s strength and—as much as it annoyed and amused me—loyalty made her far more alluring. （And, yes, her curly red hair was not only eye-catching, but beautiful.）
“How have you been able to bear the stench, Killian?” Amée asked.
Wizard blood smelled and tasted rotten to vampires—it was a very basic but very useful method of defense. The only way around the mechanism was if the wizard trusted the vampire and the vampire trusted the wizard, then the flavor changed.
Needless to say, I hadn’t met a wizard who didn’t positively reek.
But apparently I can stand slayer blood. I smiled into my mug as I thought of na?ve Jade.
“There is no stench,” Killian said, boredly.
“No smell?” Amée frowned. “Don’t tell me you actually trust her?”
Killian took a sip of blood from his mug, then set it down, his face flat with boredom. “It’s not just her, it’s her House and all the wizards with it that I trust—a great deal more than I’d ever trust you,” Killian said, his faint British accent thickened with his growing irritation, despite his show of calmness.