Page 35 of Blood Singer

I was halfway across the courtyard when I caught another scent on the wind. Male. Drakhoni. With an edge of disapproval that made my shoulders tighten before I'd even turned around.

"My lord," Lord Verrater said, stepping out from the shadow of the guard tower. "A word, if you have a moment."

I didn't want to give him a moment. Didn't want to talk to anyone. But he was one of the oldest nobles in my court, and dismissing him outright would cost me more than the conversation would.

"Lord Verrater," I said, inclining my head. "What can I do for you?"

He moved closer. His eyes were sharp and assessing in a way I'd always found vaguely irritating, and he wore formal robes instead of training leathers, deep purple embroidered with gold thread, as though he'd dressed for an audience rather than a casual crossing of paths. He hadn't stumbled across me by accident. He'd been waiting.

His nostrils flared slightly. He could smell Leila on me. He knew exactly what we'd done in that alcove, and the slight adjustment of his expression told me he'd already filed it away.

"I wanted to speak with you about the human," he said. Not 'the Alliance diplomat.' Not 'Lady Hunter.' Just 'the human,' the way you'd refer to a stray animal someone had been unwise enough to feed.

"What about her?" I kept my voice even.

"I understand you've been spending time with her," he said, the disapproval in his tone carefully measured, calibrated to read as concern. "I wanted to caution you against placing too much trust in humans, my lord. They're a lesser species. Clever, perhaps, but ultimately inferior to our kind."

Anger spiked through me. I pushed it down.

"The Alliance doesn't share your assessment," I said. "Humans have proven themselves valuable members of the galactic community."

"The Alliance is soft." He dismissed it with the confidence of a male who'd held that opinion for centuries and never had cause to question it. "They coddle the weak. And now they've sent this particular human to appeal to your sentiment, your attachment to her kind, and use it against you."

"She's here to help us solve our mate shortage. That's hardly manipulation."

"Isn't it?" His eyes didn't waver. "You're letting sentiment cloud your judgment, my lord. It's dangerous."

I wanted to argue. The arguments were there, ready. But I couldn't make them without revealing things I hadn't finished sorting through myself.

"What would you suggest?" I asked instead, and satisfaction moved briefly across his face.

"The southern houses have been discussing this matter at length," he said. The phrasing was deliberate, and the precision of it made my dragon stir uneasily. This was coordinated. Organized. "There is a growing belief among the traditionalists that human-Drakhoni mating should be outlawed entirely."

The air around me began to shimmer with heat. "Outlawed," I repeated, low and quiet. "You're suggesting we dissolve the bonds of hundreds of mated pairs? That we tell Sanyra her bond with Amy is illegitimate? That we declare the children of mixed heritage unwanted?"

"Not dissolved, necessarily," Verrater said, his tone maddeningly calm, as though he were discussing grain yields rather than sacred bonds. "Existing bonds could be grandfathered. Acknowledged privately, if not celebrated publicly. But no new human matings permitted. A compromise, my lord. Many of the southern nobility believe you'll eventually need to address this through formal council proceedings."

The phrase landed exactly as he intended it to. You'll eventually need to address. As though my opinion were a formality to be navigated. As though the conclusion were already settled.

"And if I don't address it?" I asked quietly, watching his face.

Verrater's smile was thin. He let the silence stretch just long enough to feel like a test. "Then I suspect the matter will be addressed regardless, my lord. The nobility has been patient. But patience has limits, and some believe that waiting for royal decree matters less than protecting the purity of our species."

There it was. The threat beneath the courtesy. I held his gaze and let him see that I'd heard it clearly.

"The nobility serves at the pleasure of the crown," I said, each word deliberate. "The crown's position on human mating has not changed. Any noble who acts against that position will answer for treason."

"Of course, Your Majesty." He inclined his head, but the bow was shallow, and his eyes never dropped from mine. The calculation there was unambiguous. He was measuring whether I had the will to enforce what I'd just said. "I merely thought it important that you understand the full scope of noble sentiment before the next council session, so you might prepare appropriate responses."

The presumption was extraordinary. I let it pass.

"However," he continued, his voice shifting back toward reasonable, "there is another solution worth considering. One that might satisfy both factions."

"And what would that be?" I asked, though I already suspected where this was headed.

"Expand our search beyond humans," he said. "Other species in the Alliance may prove compatible. The Vaktaire, perhaps, or the Aljani. Warrior races who've mastered interstellar travel. Species who could meet us as equals rather than primitives requiring our protection."

The word "primitives" sat in the air between us. He'd chosen it carefully, watching for my reaction.