not to start it. They want—”
She suddenly choked and went dumb, probably from some kind of gag spell. And I guess it was a good one, because she couldn’t seem to break it. It infuriated her to the point that her mouth was writhing around, probably screaming, but nothing was coming out. Rhea looked up at me, equally mute, but her eyes were eloquent—and furious.
So much for sending her along as a peacekeeper, I thought. I’d forgotten that Rhea had a bit of a split personality, probably from years of having to bite her tongue at the Pythian Court. She seemed so meek most of the time that I forgot how quickly she could turn fierce if someone she cared about was attacked.
And someone had used that.
“Your acolyte challenged on your behalf. Do you accept?” the redhead demanded, her voice ringing about the chamber.
And, suddenly, everybody was back, all those who had managed to get past the blockade at the doors, and who had taken refuge in the conference rooms. Vamps love nothing better than a challenge, and the meeting had been long and, by their standards, awfully dull. Some blood would spice things up nicely.
And if it happened to come from Mircea’s pet Pythia, so much the better.
Only he didn’t seem to think so.
“This is a violation—” he began angrily.
“Of nothing,” the redhead told him. “We have no agreements with your senate to violate. And we will leave—as soon as this is done.”
“You will do no such thing,” Jonas snapped. “The Pythia is under the Circle’s protection—”
Rhea and Saffy began gesturing desperately.
“—and she will be protected—”
“By the senate,” Mircea finished for him, “as they have chosen to attack her here! You are right,” he told the redhead, “you have no agreement with us—and therefore no guarantee of safety. You have violated—”
“Violated? But we were invited,” she said, and then she laughed. “By the Lord Protector’s own daughter.”
That sent a murmur around the room. I guess it wasn’t universally known who Rhea was outside of the covens. Well, until now.
“The Lord Protector does not have jurisdiction here,” the consul said. “I do.”
“Then give us the woman and we’ll go,” the redhead said. “But challenge has been issued and accepted. This will be fought somewhere . . . unless you choose to repudiate?” she asked me slyly.
“And if she does?” Mircea asked, before I could.
“If challenge was made without her authorization, and she is willing to state as much”—the woman’s eyes slid to Jonas—“then we will take the girl instead.”
And, suddenly, I and everyone else got a very good demonstration of exactly how powerful Jonas Marsden was. Because the torrent of power that suddenly spilled off him felt like it gave me a sunburn even this far away. And the usually vague and myopic blue eyes were sharp and steady.
“I think not.” It was final.
It was also welcomed. Because Saffy was right; the redhead wanted a fight, but not with me. I remembered what Zara had said yesterday. There were covens who hated the Circle, wanted a renewed war, and saw this as their chance. But there were others that did not, and there appeared to have been a quarrel going on between them, one that I’d stumbled into the middle of.
It looked like my offer to Zara had given an excuse for the covens to get together, and the war party had taken the chance to force the issue, goading Rhea into a challenge that they’d deliberately misinterpreted as coming from me.
So now either I fought or they would try to take her, Jonas would resist, and we would get World War III.
“And if the Pythia accepts?” the consul asked, apparently following this at least as well as me. “Who does she duel?”
“Why, all of us,” the redhead said, faking surprise. “Rhea challenged the coven—”
“That’s a lie!” The voice spoke from behind the other witches, probably because a new arrival had just come through the portal. Evelyn, I thought. I couldn’t see her face past the others, but the towering height and head of steel gray curls were unmistakable. And then she pushed through the throng. “Ingaret! Have you gone mad?”
“Quite the contrary.” The redhead spread her arms. “I am clearer-headed than I have ever been, and I am tired of waiting. Five hundred years we have hidden, cowering in the shadows—no more! If you don’t have the guts to do what must be done, then get out of the way!”
“I won’t let you do this! You can’t—”
“I can and