be all around."
How ironic. Wrath's own sire's reading of the wording was going to be what brought the son down.
"The issue for us will be the king himself. He needs to remain breathing - and he needs to not recognize the weakness inherent in his reign and fix it before we can get things in order."
"You will e-mail my associate the relevant passages, and then you will meet with me."
"This will take a number of days."
"Understood. But I expect your call promptly."
As names were exchanged, and Xcor gave over Throe's e-mail address, he began to feel a certain buoyancy. If this male was correct? Wrath's kingship was going to be over without any more bloodshed. And then Xcor would be free to determine the future of the race: As far as he knew, Wrath had no direct family, so if he were removed, there was no one with a strong claim to the throne. Although that didn't mean there wouldn't be relations coming out of the woodwork.
Interlopers he could deal with, however. And with the support of the Council? He was willing to bet he could become a populist leader - provided everyone got in line.
Wrath wasn't the only one who could change the laws.
"Do not waste time with this," Xcor said. "You have a week. No longer."
The answer that came back at him was gratifying: "I shall proceed with all haste."
And wasn't that a lovely way to end a phone call.
Chapter Seventy-four
The tunnel that connected the mansion with the training center was cool, dim, and quiet.
As Qhuinn walked through it, he was by himself and glad of it. Nothing worse than being surrounded by happy people when you felt like death.
When he got to the door that led into the back of the office's closet, he put in the code, waited for the lock to pop, and pushed his way inside. A quick trip past the stationery and pens, and through another door, and he was going around the desk. Next thing he knew, he was in the corridor in front of the weight room, but exercise wasn't what he was looking for. After what the Brotherhood had done to him, he was stiff and achy - especially in the arms, thanks to having held himself upright on those pegs.
Man, his hands were still numb, and as he flexed his fingers, he knew what arthritis felt like for the first time in his life.
Moving along, he stopped again when he got to the clinic area. As he went to straighten his clothes, he realized he was still wearing only the robe.
He wasn't going back to change; that was for sure.
Knocking on the recovery room's door, he said, "Luchas? You up?"
"Come in," was the hoarse reply.
He had to brace himself before he entered. And he was glad he did.
Lying on the bed with his head propped up, Luchas still looked as if he were on the verge of extinction. The face that Qhuinn had remembered as intelligent and young was lined and grim. The body was painfully thin. And those hands...
Jesus Christ, the hands.
And he thought his ached a little bit?
He cleared his throat. "Hey."
"Hello."
"So...yeah. How you been?"
Fucking duh on that one. The guy was staring at weeks of bed rest, and then months of PT - and was going to be lucky if he could ever hold a pen again.
Luchas winced as he tried to lift his shoulders in a shrug. "I'm surprised you came."
"Well, you're my - " Qhuinn stopped himself. Actually, the guy was not, in fact, any relation of his. "I mean...yeah."
Luchas closed his eyes. "I have always, and will always, be your blood. No piece of paper can change that."
Qhuinn's eyes went to that mangled right hand, and its signet ring. "I think Father would very much disagree with you."
"He's dead. So his opinion is no longer relevant."
Qhuinn blinked.
When he didn't say anything, Luchas popped his lids open. "You seem surprised."
"No offense, but I never expected to hear that come out of your mouth."
The male indicated his broken body. "I have changed."
Qhuinn reached over and pulled a chair out for himself; as he sat down, he rubbed his face. He had come here because seeing your previously dead estranged brother was the only remotely acceptable reason for skipping a party thrown in your honor.
And spending the night watching Blay and Saxton together? Not going to happen.
Except now that he was here, he didn't think he was up to any kind of conversation.
"What happened with