Damien looked at him. For all the centuries he’d lived, all the kingdoms he’d watched fall, he had never envisioned this: battling for the heart of a woman who was, quite frankly, stronger than both of them combined. And worse...he respected the bastard he was battling.
It stung, being evenly matched. Love? That battlefield was treacherous and unfair, especially when you had to share the front lines with soone just as willing to bleed for her.
He nodded slowly. "Get her to want to live," he said. "It’s up to you now."
*****
anwhile, Lucivar sat at a little café. It sat unassumingly between the rolling hills that marked the boundary between the werewolf kingdom and Blood City. The chairs were mismatched. The walls were covered in ivy and absurd amounts of lights. And the coffee? Terrible unless you added a little "flavoring."
Lucivar took a delicate sip of his steaming mug, the scent of blood laced with caral teasing his senses. He sighed.
The cafe was owned by a human couple, Rachel and Richard, who had the look of people who knew just enough about the supernatural to stay alive and just enough more to be dangerous. Lucivar knew full well they were spies for Magnus. Frankly, he didn’t care.
Magnus arrived, ditching his guards at the café entrance. He pushed open the door, triggering the little bell that chid.
"Your Highness!" Rachel all but squealed, abandoning her coffee machine to practically float toward Magnus. "Oh, two royalties in our shop today? Oh my!" She turned to the back urgently. "Richard! Get the cara!"
Magnus chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "I’ll have a cup of coffee, Rachel," he said with a warm smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
"Yes, Your Highness!" Rachel curtsied so hard her knees cracked, then turned with a squeal and darted toward the counter. She had a spring in her step and a mission in her heart.
Magnus adjusted the cuffs of his black coat before sinking into the chair opposite Lucivar. He was every inch the image of elegant nace.
"Is there a reason," Magnus began as he smoothed his lapel, "that you’ve never invited to the Blood City?"
Lucivar tilted his head, swirling the blood-laced coffee in his mug. "I would’ve a long ti ago, truly, but I was worried about your delicate nerves. You’re such a hobody. I didn’t want to yank you out of your comfort zone. Besides, you called this eting. I thought I’d be polite and et you halfway... between your fears and my amusent."
"Afraid of you?" Magnus raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching. "Keep telling yourself that. Say it in front of a mirror if you must. Maybe it’ll finally sound convincing."
Rachel returned with a steaming mug and placed it before Magnus. "Enjoy, Your Highness," she breathed before scampering back to the counter.
"So," Lucivar leaned forward, finally letting his smirk drop, "what’s this about?"
Magnus’s jaw tightened. "My family was dragged into this ss... because of you."
Lucivar blinked. "I’m sorry...what?" He set his mug down slowly. Please...enlighten ."
"I spoke to Morvakar," Magnus said evenly, eyes locking onto Lucivar’s.
Lucivar nearly choked. He actually had to reach for a napkin and cough it out, waving away the blood-coffee mist. "I beg your pardon? You spoke to who now?"
"Do you even talk to your son?" Magnus asked dryly, stirring his coffee without looking at it.
"I gave him so space, alright? He was busy wooing his mate. You may know her. Your daughter."
If annoyance had a face, it would be Magnus’s at that mont. "Look, Lucivar, I don’t have ti to give you the entire story. I suggest you talk to Damien."
Lucivar raised a hand. "Alright, alright. So Morvakar is involved in this ss. Honestly, I should’ve guessed. But fine, I’ll speak with Damien. Though I must ask..." He leaned forward with a sly grin. "Does this an you’re finally open to the idea of becoming my in-law?"
Magnus released a long-suffering sigh. "You are impossible."
Lucivar’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "Flattery, my dear Magnus, will get you everywhere."
Magnus took another sip of coffee, muttering sothing about vampire senility and how aging in Lucivar’s world must reverse maturity. If this was the kind of behavior that ca after centuries of undeath, he feared for the next millennium.
*****
Luna sat between her parents.
Dinner was finished. The food had been exquisite but the silence was uncomfortable.
The clinking of dishes being cleared by the servants was the only sound in the room. That, and the occasional pointed sigh from Ravena.
Luna placed her fork down and let the silence sit for a beat longer before breaking it. "You both need to stop," she whispered.
But they heard her.
She looked up at them, these two towering figures of elegance who had raised her, trained her, and taught her. And yet, they now sat as far apart as they could at the table.
"Is this really the ti to fight?" she asked. "I’m literally dying. You’d think that’d be enough to make you both put away the cold war."
Ravena stiffened, her pale fingers tightening slightly around her glass. "Luna..."
Magnus looked away. "Your mother and I are rely—discussing matters."
"Like hell you are," Luna said bluntly. "You haven’t looked at each other since I arrived. Father, you’re pretending she doesn’t exist, and Mother, you’ve sighed at least seventeen tis tonight."
"I did not..." Ravena muttered.
"I know that the situation is difficult for you both," Luna began. Her fingers twisted the silk napkin in her lap, her only physical betrayal of the emotional earthquake rolling through her chest. She looked from her mother to her father. "Whatever happened in the past... happened. We can’t undo it. But we have to deal with what’s in front of us now. So I’ve made a decision."
Both parents straightened instinctively. Ravena’s eyes narrowed with regal suspicion. Magnus leaned in, brows creasing with concern.
"What’s that, my dear?" Magnus asked gently, as if he already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.
(Phew! Mass Release done and dusted. Who thinks I deserve a reward? You do? okay then. I won’t say no to gifts, I an...if you think I deserve it *wink*)
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