He grunted. “Awful hour of the day–so I figured you'd be up.” It was the kind of backhanded insult Malin had learned to ignore on the training field. Nikolau, unlike some, wasn’t one to raise his voice. He preferred to deliver his condemnations in a mild tone that cut all the more for its lack ofanger.
“You didn’t come tochat.”
“No.” Nikolau drained his coffee, set the mug down on the table. “Have you thought about what Kausarasked?”
Malin stared at him, impassive. “Without some significant pretext, I find myself strangely unwilling to depose the brother I helpedraise.”
“No one said it would be easy. You’re loyal, and level-headed.” Nikolau met his eyes directly, then smirked. “Have you heard Geza pissed off Prince LudargoCernea?”
Malin frowned. “That would be stupid, considering the resources his lands sit on in Alaska. And the warriors he can transport. A war with him would be destabilizing, atbest.”
“Well, Prince Geza insulted his daughter and refused to marry her in front of the entireCouncil.”
It took a moment for that particular idiocy to sink in; when it did, Malin closed his eyes, stifling a sigh. It had been a while since he'd had a talk with the boy–maybe now was the time, before he really was pushed into taking Geza'sthrone.
“Why?” But considering his conversation with Surah, none of this was really a surprise. Geza must have approached his sister after he’d screwed up, and was looking for a fast way to clean up hismess.
Nikolau shrugged. “There is no acceptable ‘why.’” He paused. “Her father can bring much needed revenue and influence to the territory. I spoke with him–he won't give Sililu to Geza, but he'll give her to you, and back you in taking thethrone.”
Anger built slowly. It seemed like his friend was busy with Kausar, working on Malin's behalf—without bothering to consult himfirst.
“I will speak with my brother. I will not wed thegirl.”
“You need heirs,” Nikolau replied, bluntly. “Surah’s chances of giving you garlings aren’t good, and we don’t need more humans in thebloodlines.”
Malin's heart clenched as he banished the image of a little boy with wide eyes, rather than long, and brown hair with a slight curl. Maybe a daughter as well, if he was blessed. Daughters wereprecious.
“They would be a quarter human. And I don’t think I care about whether or not they can shift. Besides, Surah would never allow it.” Malin knew Surah, knew a temper lurked behind the medical calm–she might pretend to consider the idea of a sister wife for Geza’s sake, fooling even herself, but Malin knew better. And he wouldn’t risk their budding relationship so soon with the stress of even a purely politicalmarriage.
Nikolau considered him. “Maybe we should sit down and have a talk with her–she’s practical and she knows her duty as an Ioveanu princess. She’d understand even better than you why this isnecessary.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t. I already told you to leave Surah out of yourpolitics.”
Nikolau grimaced. “Not thatsimple.”
* * *
Lana was programmedto monitor personnel for signs ofillness.
“Should I alert medical authorities?” the computerasked.
Surah rose unsteadily from her crouch over the waste basket in her office, and sat at her desk, drawing a small bottle of water from the mini-fridge underneath. She rinsed her mouth, spat it out in the waste basket. Considered calling maintenance to deal with the mess, but that would just berude.
“No, Lana. It’s just some nausea.” Shouldn’t have eaten that damn steak. Her body didn’t process animal proteins well, but she’d been having cravings and, after running a brief mental analysis of her shitty diet in the last several weeks, no wonder. She’d been living on Geza’s booze, Malin’s wine and their afternoon lunch breaks. Since moving in with Malin she’d begun to eat real food again–since she didn’t have to cook it–but she obviously hadn’t restored depletednutrients.
Surah sighed. “Lana, order an organic liquid multivitamin.” She rattled off a list of specifications, including one day shipping. She needed to keep her health up. Last thing she needed right now was to getsick.
