“Right,” she drawled in blatant disbelief. “So what happened?”
He sucked in a deep breath, crushing his ancient fury before it could cloud his concentration.
He would dwell on Briggs and his past mistakes later.
There were enough problems just a tad more urgent at the moment.
“I tried to keep an eye on Briggs, but then the king died and before I could voice my suspicions, Briggs attacked.”
“Obviously, you won.”
“I did, but it was much more difficult than it should have been.” His tone was flat, his words not revealing the grisly battle that had taken him nearly a month to recover from. “One mistake and I would have been the one in the grave.”
Something flashed through the hazel eyes.
Horror? Dismay?
Disappointment that Briggs had screwed up the chance to chop off his head?
“Now he’s back,” she said.
“So it would seem.”
“And with a grudge.”
“No, with a plan,” he softly corrected.
The grudge was a given. Briggs had wanted him dead since the day he was born. The very fact that he hadn’t ambushed Salvatore before he realized the bastard was lurking around hinted that he had some plot beyond murder.
“What kind of plan?” she demanded.
“That, cara, I don’t yet know.”
She stabbed him with a frustrated glare. “Well, thanks a butt-load for dragging me into the middle of your feud.”
Salvatore moved to capture her face between his hands. There was no way he was going to be the villain of the piece.
“Ah, no, I won’t take the entire blame. Caine was the one to drag you and your sisters away from the safety of my lair.”
Her chin tilted to that stubborn angle he was beginning to recognize.
“Oh, yeah? If you hadn’t been messing with our DNA, then he never would have taken us.”
Salvatore studied her breathtaking beauty with a brooding gaze. “I wonder.”
“I’m not sure I want to know.”
“If Briggs is responsible for Caine’s mystical visions, then he’s no doubt the one who convinced the gullible cur to steal you from my nursery,” he said slowly, speaking his vague suspicions out loud.
“Why?”
“Just another question with no answer.”
“Great.”
Salvatore stilled as a familiar scent of granite whispered through the air.
“Damn.”