She took him to lunch, and talked him down to the cool, self-possessed, and reasonable businessman she needed him to be—and thought hard about ever trying to use his anger as a weapon again. She’d thought Geza had inherited all the crazy in the Ioveanu line–now she knew she was wrong. Malin just hid his batshitbetter.
* * *
Malin wasaware of Surah’s ill-concealed attempts to pacify him. He allowed it because she had important work to do and did not need to worry about his anger on top of her own concerns. So he smoothed his expression, suppressed his anger, and spent an hour exerting himself to charm her. He’d never overtly played any role other than step-brother before, so that she was allowing him to be Malin, the man, to her only increased his determination to ensure nothinginterfered.
Geza would not take her from him, and Petru certainly would not. He could scheme for status to increase his family’s honor somewhere else. So he soothed his intended, while she thought she was soothing him, and after she’d left the restaurant to go on about her business, Malin made a call, and set up a secondmeeting.
* * *
The rooftopof his building was an ideal location. After he’d made his first half-billion, he’d had a designer come in and recreate the gardens of his childhood. There were stone walking paths, and small water features. A grassy area for landing and a pergola for protection from the sun during theday.
As soon as the enemy orb disappeared from the sky and the blessed relief of the moon emerged, Malin stepped onto the rooftop and waited. He didn’t waitlong.
Petru landed, three other males of his family with him–all warriors Malinrecognized.
“You summoned me,” Petru said, his voice chilly. “I responded out of respect for myPrince.”
They’d never gotten along. Malin was the better warrior–before the disease crippled him, he could fly faster, too—and because he lacked Petru’s brashness, when they were young the former had mistaken Malin’s mild manner for weakness. Malin had publicly, thoroughly, taught him the reality of things. Petru neverforgot.
“I’m not concerned with why you responded,” Malin said. “You arehere.”
More wings descended from the sky. Kausar and Nikolau, males who were loyal to him. And not weak, but among the best warriors their hold had. Petru eyed them both and saidnothing.
“I suppose you want to talk about Surah,” Petrusaid.
“No,” Malin replied, voice pleasant. “I don’t. Talk is superfluous, when a sound thrashing will do. It’s been some years,right?”
Petru grinned, and flexed his massive shoulders. Malin stared, unimpressed. He wasn’t a female–he didn’t care about Petru’s overblownmuscles.
“You are not her brother,” Petru said, “so you have no rights over her. Geza is herguardian.”
“She doesn’t need a guardian, and I have the rights she has grantedme.”
“And what rights would thosebe?”
Malin ignored the question. “You are not going to wed her, Petru. You’re far too stupid, you would diminish her offspring. I admit you are the best choice among the warriors available in court–but she is already spoken for. Tell GezaIsaidso.”
“And who has spoken?” Petru cracked his knuckles. Always one for theatrics. “I remember no announcements. She wears no male’sjewelry.”
“I havespoken.”
The words fell between them, Petru’s grin vanishing. “That’s impossible.You’re—”
“Not related at all.” Malin’s teeth ground. He wastiredof reminding people of thatfact.
“I was going to say defective,” Petru said, look withering. “Fine. We fight,then.”
Nikolau, who’d been silent until then, stepped forward, voice sharp. “First blood, not death. We don’t kill each other over a female.” He glanced at Malin, eyes warning. “Anyfemale.”
“Agreed,” Malin said, and Petru echoed, and launched into thesky.
Malin had expected that tactic. His wings unfurled with a snap and he was in the air, jaw locked against the pain, his internal clock now ticking. He knew he had a certain amount of time before his body would begin to fail him. No amount of strength training, conditioning or swordwork could combat the disease. He looked the picture of a warrior in his prime–but it was only a picture. Another year, two at the most, and he would be fullyhuman.
So he reveled in this fight and not just because of his anger over Petru’s presumption. But because now, in the sky with the moon brilliant overhead, locked in combat with another warrior, he felt alive.Himself.
No one would draw a blade–thatwould ensure that a small, civilized fight to the blood over the right to court a female would turn into something more deadly. They wrestled in the air, Petru a slippery fucker. Faster than Malin remembered–he must have spent the years training, rather than sitting around getting fat likeGeza.
Fangs snapped in his face, a fist like stone smashing against his cheekbone. He snapped his head back in time to avoid the blow connecting with his nose—and drawing first blood. Flapping backward, he tumbled towards the roof, mimicking the appearance of disorientation, as if he was about to crumble mid-flight. Petru dove, a fierce grin on his face. Malin turned up at the last moment and swiped left, his claws raking rivulets along leathery wings. Petru howled in rage and brokeaway.
