“I grant you and Marissa freedom from your covenant.”
“Thank you.”
There was a long pause.
He waited for her ruling on the second part of his request. He sure as hell wasn't going to ask.
“Tell me something, warrior. Do you think your species is unworthy?”
He frowned and then quickly smoothed his face into neutral. The Scribe Virgin wasn't going to put up with being glowered at.
“Well, warrior?”
He had no idea where she was going with this. “My species is a fierce and proud race.”
“I didn't ask you for a statement of definition. I asked you what you thought of them.”
“I protect them with my life.”
“And yet you will not lead your people. So I can only surmise that you do not value them and therefore fight because you like to or because you wish to die. Which is it?”
This time he let his frown stay in place. “My race survives because of what the brothers and I do.”
“Barely. In fact, its numbers dwindle. It does not thrive. The only localized colony is the one that settled on the United States' East Coast. And even they live isolated from one another. There are no communities. The festivals are no longer held. Rituals are observed privately, if at all. There is no one to mediate disputes, no one to give them hope. And the Black Dagger Brotherhood is cursed. There are none left in it who do not suffer.”
“The brothers have their… problems. But they are strong.”
“And should be stronger.” She shook her head. “You have failed your bloodline, warrior. You have failed your purpose. So tell me, why should I grant your wish to take the half-breed as queen?” The Scribe Virgin's robes moved as if she were shaking her head. “Better that you continue to merely service her with your staff than to have your people saddled with yet another meaningless figurehead. Go now, warrior. We are finished.”
“I would have a word in my defense,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“And I would deny you.” She turned away.
“I beg of your mercy.” He hated saying the words, and he guessed by the sound of her laugh that she knew it.
The Scribe Virgin came back to him.
When she spoke, her tone was hard, hard as the black lines of her robe against all the white marble. “If you're going to beg, warrior, do it properly. Get on your knees.”
Wrath forced his body down to the ground, hating her.
“I rather like you like this,” she murmured, back to being relatively pleasant. “Now, what were you saying?”
He swallowed the hostile words in his throat, forcing himself to affect an even temper that was an absolute lie. “I love her. I want to honor her, not just have her to warm my bed.”
“So treat her well. But there is no need to have a ceremony.”
“I disagree.” He tacked on, “Respectfully.”
There was a long pause.
“You have sought no counsel from me over these centuries.”
He lifted his head. “Is that what bothers you?”
“Do not question me!” she snapped. “Or I will have that half-breed taken from you faster than your next breath.”
Wrath put his head down and ground his fists into the marble.
He waited.
Waited so long, he was tempted to look and see if she had gone.
“I will require a favor,” she said.
“Name it.”
“You will lead your people.”
Wrath looked up, his throat squeezing shut. He couldn't save his parents, he could barely do right by Beth, and the Scribe Virgin wanted him to be responsible for his whole goddamned race?
“What say you, warrior?”
Yeah, like no was an option. “As you wish, Scribe Virgin.”
“That is my command, warrior. It is not my wish and not the favor I will ask of you, either.” She let out an exasperated noise. “Do get to your feet. Those knuckles of yours are bleeding on my marble.”
He stood and leveled his eyes on her. He stayed silent, figuring she was probably going to lay some more conditions on him.
She addressed him sharply. “You have no wish to be king. That is obvious. But it is your birth obligation, and it is about time you lived up to your legacy.”
Wrath dragged a hand through his hair, creeping anxiety tensing his muscles.
The Scribe Virgin's voice softened. A little. “Worry not, warrior. I will not leave you to find your way alone. You will come to me and I will help you. Being your counsel is part of my purpose.”
Which was a good thing, because he was going to need the help. He had no clue