Blood Legacy: Heir to the Throne (18 page)

The thoughts flowing about the room pleased Abigail, even those regarding her, and she returned to the conversation at hand. Ala was finishing the very entertaining story of how she had first met Ryan in the Congo.

“And so,” Marilyn asked, “you actually allowed yourself to be crucified?”

Ryan cast a mischievous look at Kokumuo, who was stationed behind Ala. He glanced away in some embarrassment. Ryan lowered her eyes to Ala, who was recalling the scene with some pleasure.

“I had to make an offering to the earth mother,” Ryan said, her words playfully suggestive, “and that was all I had to give.”

Ala took a deep breath at the fond memory. “It was quite a sufficient sacrifice.”

Ryan glanced down at her hands. She was enjoying the physical sensation of Marilyn on one side, Abigail on the other, and the incredible heat and light of Ala and Kusunoki so close to her. The power, warmth and comfortable sensuality of the group was extraordinary. It was perhaps a perfect moment, utterly complete in and of itself.

A shadow drifted across her consciousness. Although Ryan had lived for centuries, the first nineteen years she spent living as a human still profoundly influenced her. And she had come from a people who refused to celebrate good fortune, superstitiously believing that such celebration would tempt disaster.

Abigail, ever attuned to the girl, glanced sideways. Ryan was not particularly mercurial in her moods but she had just had a very sudden, albeit subtle, shift. Ryan, aware of Abigail’s scrutiny, turned to her, shaking the feeling off. She smiled, ridding herself of the feeling entirely.

“I think I am going to go check on my son,” Ryan said rising. “I forget he needs to eat and sleep.” She felt Marilyn’s hand on her leg, and she glanced down. “I will be right back.” She turned to Abigail. “I promise.”

She stepped from the platform in a single, graceful step and began striding across the room. About halfway across, she slowed, then came to a stop. Conversation amongst the Old Ones had resumed, but Abigail’s gaze remained on the girl. Kusunoki caught sight of Abigail’s expression, and he, too, glanced over at Ryan.

Ryan stood paused in the center of the room, a puzzled look on her face. Her uncertainty was evident as she cocked her head to one side, as if trying to discern a single conversation from the myriad in the room. Now Ala and Marilyn were watching her as well, all curious as to what she was doing.

Ryan turned her head slightly, her uncertainty even more pronounced. She looked up at Abigail, as if seeking some sort of sign or confirmation, but Abigail was at a loss as to what the girl was searching for. Slowly, the puzzlement on Ryan’s face changed to faint understanding, then to utter certainty. Ryan closed her eyes at the sensation, reveling in the feeling but also resigned to its implication. Everyone present was now studying her curious actions. When she opened her eyes, they were surprised that she smiled, although it wasn’t entirely pleasant to see.

Ryan took a deep breath, aware of the humanness of the gesture, and turned to the shadows in the doorway, seeking the One she knew stood there.

“Hello, my love,” came a clipped, aristocratic voice filled with sarcasm.

A devastatingly handsome man with light hair and ice blue eyes stepped into the room. Enormous power stepped into the room with him, generating violent currents that caused people to shudder for reasons both pleasant and not. The strength of this One inspired terror, even in those who did not know him. Sensuality and malevolence swirled about him, battling for dominance, and for the moment, malevolence was winning handily.

“You look remarkably well for a dead man,” Ryan said casually. Although her tone was as dangerous as his, those around her were surprised that amusement was predominant in hers. She was obviously not afraid.

Aeron took another step forward, his pale blue eyes cold with fury. There was, however, a trace of amusement in his voice as well. “You didn’t quite finish the job. I thought I taught you better than that as a child.”

Ryan smiled a lethal smile. “There wasn’t enough left to consume.”

This provoked another icy smile, although one that was slightly less entertained. Ryan continued.

“I don’t suppose you’ve come to congratulate me on my coronation.”

“No,” Aeron said with mock regret, “I have not. I come with a challenge.”

This elicited several gasps from the room, which had grown completely silent. If the challenge itself was surprising, then Ryan’s reaction to it was even more so.

“Very well, then,” she said with complete nonchalance, “I accept your challenge. We will fight here, three days time, standard rotation of weapons. Although,” she said, half to herself, “I doubt we will need more than three sets.”

Aeron had the feeling he had been brushed off like some annoying insect. The girl right now possessed an air of complete self-confidence, an infuriating certainty he had felt only in one other, the whelp’s father. Not only that, but she had named all of the terms of the engagement, although some by right were his. To add insult to injury, she had chosen exactly the terms he would have, making any argument appear foolish.

“Very well,” he said, his jaw clenched.

“Excellent,” Ryan said smoothly, “three days time.” She began to turn, then paused.

“And Aeron?”

“Yes?” he said, fairly grinding his teeth.

“Do not disturb me before that time.”

She turned on her heel and left, dismissing him. Incensed, he cast one furious look at the Old Ones, the turned on his own heel and left the gathering.

Abigail calmly smoothed her skirt, then slowly stood. “I suggest we convene ourselves in Council Chambers.”

“How can this be?” Kusunoki demanded, not from anyone in particular. He slammed his fist down on the table, a lack of self-control extremely uncharacteristic of the samurai. “How can he still be alive?”

Abigail’s mood was greatly restrained, and Ala watched her closely. She was intensely curious how Abigail would respond to this turn of events, or to see if the matriarch was even surprised. Abigail raised her eyes to Ala, sensing, then addressing, her concerns directly.

“I must say I am not surprised that Aeron survived.”

Kusunoki’s jaw clenched spasmodically.

“But,” she continued, “I am extremely surprised to see him this soon. I assumed it would take decades, perhaps even centuries for him to return.”

Ala sensed no deception in Abigail at the moment, nor any real attempt at disguise. She slowly nodded her agreement. “I am amazed that none of us could sense his presence.”

“I knew he was here,” Ryan said as she strolled through the doorway, “but I misinterpreted the sensation.”

There was slight self-criticism in the comment. Ryan settled into the chair at the head of the table, directly across from Abigail. She gazed at the older woman a long moment, an enigmatic expression on her face. She turned her attention to Ala.

“Something has been troubling me lately, something I could not quite identify. I am almost relieved to find this is the source.”

Ala nodded. She had sensed the girl’s unease and Aeron’s return would certainly explain it. Ryan settled into silence as the conversation about the table continued. The discussion was at times heated, other times frustrated and puzzled. Oddly, Marilyn simply sat. Normally, such a dramatic turn of events would have fully engaged her, but now she merely sat, watching Ryan with interest.

Aware of the scrutiny, Ryan raised her eyes to the dark-haired woman.

There was a lull in the conversation and Marilyn chose that moment to speak, addressing Ryan directly.

“You’re not the least bit concerned, are you, ma Cherie?”

It was not so much a question as a statement, and Ryan did not so much answer as agree.

“No,” she said calmly, “I am not.”

Marilyn nodded, a smile playing about her lips. She knew whom she was betting on in this altercation.

Kusunoki picked up on Marilyn’s assessment, turning to evaluate his pupil. He understood what Marilyn was discerning from Ryan.

“I sense no doubt in you at all,” he said.

“That is because there is none,” Ryan said in the same calm voice. There was no bravado in her tone, no arrogance, no pride. Her words were spoken matter-of-factly, and her manner was understated.

Kusunoki’s eyes narrowed. There was a supreme self-confidence surrounding Ryan right now, a poise and self-assurance that reminded Kusunoki of Victor. It seemed to put everything immediately into perspective.

“Do you wish to train for the next few days?” Kusunoki asked her.

“No,” Ryan replied. “I’ve been training for this for almost 700 years.” She shifted in her seat. “I will spend my time in meditation.”

Kusunoki nodded. “I will reflect with you.”

Ryan turned to Marilyn, then to Ala. “Dr. Ryerson and Edward will care for Drake while I prepare. I would ask, in turn, that you care for them.”

Ala understood exactly what Ryan was requesting, as did Marilyn. “Nothing will happen to your son, or to Dr. Ryerson,” Ala promised firmly.

“Very well,” Ryan said, nodding her thanks. She gave one last, long look at Abigail, then took her leave.

Aeron stalked about his chambers impatiently. His belongings were exactly as he had left them, something that was welcome but unexpected. He was surprised that Ryan had not completely demolished his suites, or at least given them to someone else. He found it peculiar that they were completely unchanged and in immaculate condition. It gave him pause.

The slight knock on his door also gave him pause, but not because it was unexpected. Abigail entered, her graceful elegance and beauty a stark contrast to the dark masculine furnishings.

“My ally,” Aeron said, greeting her sarcastically.

“Aeron,” Abigail said smoothly, unperturbed by his anger or sarcasm. If anything, she seemed slightly entertained by the position he was in.

“You ever were one to hedge your bets,” Aeron said, his cynicism pronounced.

“How odd,” Abigail said. “Victor accused me of exactly the same thing, using almost those exact words.” She fingered a letter opener on a nearby shelf. “But you must admit,” she said, glancing at him, “it is a strategy that has proved both prescient and successful.”

Aeron crossed his arms over his chest. “So, have you come to plead for the sake of your precious Ryan?”

There was a pause as Abigail again fingered the letter opener. “I did not come here for Ryan’s sake,” she said, glancing at him once more, “but for yours.”

Aeron’s eyes narrowed and Abigail turned fully toward him. She was deadly serious. “You cannot defeat her, Aeron. Ryan has grown immensely powerful.”

“No doubt helped by you,” Aeron interjected sardonically.

“Yes,” Abigail said, unruffled, “there is that. But I do not believe that Ryan can be defeated any longer, only contained.”

Aeron was even more sarcastic. “A containment I understand you’ve been glad to provide.”

“A containment you could assist in,” Abigail proffered, her words and gaze suddenly intense. The offer caught Aeron off guard, as intended.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, his distrust evident.

“Ryan did not dissolve the Grand Council as expected,” Abigail replied. “she maintained it in an advisory capacity.” She glanced about the unchanged room. “Your position on the Council remains unfilled, and you have the absolute right of return.”

She turned to him, both persuasive and admonishing. “You could return to your previous position and assist in keeping our powerful little monarch in check.”

“Or,” Abigail said, turning her back on him, “you could continue with your challenge and suffer an ignominious defeat.”

She gave one last glance over her shoulder before she disappeared.

“It is your decision.”

Several hours later, another tap on his door interrupted Aeron’s dark reverie.

“Enter,” he bellowed.

Devon came in, bowing low before him. As pleased as he was to see his master, he was very wary of Aeron’s current mood. People tended to get decapitated when Aeron was in such a state. He stood before him patiently.

“You will act as my Second at the challenge,” Aeron said.