Andrew’s fingerprints were all over this. “So now you are the messengers and minions of outsiders? Does this not violate your oath of neutrality in all political matters?”
“It wasn’t political. It was personal.” The second from the left added. This was the vampire. He should have known better than to speak with a Prince in the room. His identity remained hidden, but the Eastern European accent narrowed the possibilities.
“Personal matters with political underpinnings are even more delicate.”
“Yes, we are aware of your concerns, Prince Richard.” The witch in the center waved a gloved hand. “What is it that you propose?”
He held up the thumb drive and waited for her wave forward before walking to the dais they occupied and setting it down. “This is evidence of Kristina’s arrival at the Arcana Royale. The political enemy stalked her, set her up and was the subsequent cause of her incarceration. I expect you to rectify your decisions where she is concerned and release her from the curse holding her bound and starving.”
A low hum of muttering filled the air. They blocked his ears as they conferred and he allowed them their privacy. He retreated back only two steps and studied each of them. They carried no scent, no discernibly recognizable features, and magic obscured even the room itself. He could almost taste the power present on his tongue.
The white noise vibrating against his eardrums vanished, and the vampire leaned forward. “The debt to the Arcana Royale was paid. The vampire owes us no service.”
“Then why is she still here?”
Silence reverberated.
The witch shifted. “That would be a question for the stage manager of the…”
Richard withdrew a marker from his coat pocket and tossed it on the dais. “That is the chit of Heidi, the stage manager. She is bound by geas from providing answers, and the Midnight Mystery Lounge does not own the contract on Kristina, despite the curse associated with her incarceration. So what, were you lying?”
The temperature in the room plunged to frost. Richard waited. There was a deeper game, a longer game, being played here. Kristina was never the target. It had taken him hours to begin unraveling the twists and turns the clues led him through. But he understood it, now. Every action taken was meant to bring him here—to the Arcana Royale—and this room.
They wanted the Prince of New York.
They had him.
If they conferred this time, it wasn’t audible.
Finally, the vampire rose from his seat and turned to face the others. “The accusation against our neutrality is accepted.”
Two more figures rose and joined him, leaving only the witch and the silent fourth at her left hand seated. Richard expected that. The vampire turned toward him, the gray facelessness disturbing.
“We accept that charge and will make reparations. But we cannot interfere with the contract, as we did not enforce it.”
“Very well. It may interest you to know that Marguerite DuBois and the local Prince of the city were engaged in a long-term affair for nearly twenty-five years before DuBois vanished. A very skilled witch, DuBois specialized in the creation of trap charms—and they often fetched the highest price at auction. They could steal souls—or memories—and for a blood debt, they could replace them.”
The witch in the center jerked.
“If the personal debt is being enforced and chains held within this casino and resort in violation of neutrality as a personal favor to the Prince of Las Vegas, you will have openly aligned yourselves with him, which means any contracts you hold with other cities will be null and void. As of fifteen minutes ago, information regarding the entire matter including all the evidence we have gathered was delivered to the Princes of Monte Carlo, Atlantic City, Reno, Singapore and Bangladesh. All cities I believe you have operating interests in—”
He didn’t hear anything else, the five figures vanished and the gray filter on the room dissipated. He stood alone in the white chamber. He glanced at his watch and waited.
One figure strode back into the room, the air around it blurring to hide any recognizable features.
“You have evidence of DuBois’ liaison with Prince Andrew?” The Argentinean—whatever the hell he was.
“I do.”
“And you will give us this information?”
“As soon as you free my wife.”
“What will you give up for her? You offer us money and information, but what sacrifice are you willing to make to engage the Overseers on your behalf?”
“Whatever you want.” Malcolm advised against such a gamble, but Richard would not leave her trapped here one hour longer than they’d already lost. “If you want my city, you can take it. If you want my soul, it’s yours. I just want Kristina free from obligation, from the memory loss, from the curse turning her to stone every day. I want her to have her life back.”
“You would give up everything for her?”
“If necessary and without reservation.” He wouldn’t leave her here, but if he remained—so be it. She gave up everything for him, time and again. He could do nothing less for her.
“Yet not without regret, I imagine. What would it be to reunite with your bride only to have to tell her goodbye again?”
“Painful.” He admitted. “But it is my sacrifice and choice to make. She will be safe and she will be free. She deserves so much more, but she will have that.”
“As you wish.” The man vanished.
It wasn’t an answer. But the offer had been made. He looked at his watch and reclaimed the thumb drive and Heidi’s chit. Minion had delivered the item just before the summons from the Overseers. She grumbled and complained, and even managed to wheedle a black opal ring from a collection of baubles he considered using for bribes before handing over the chit. She also delivered a frustrating message.
In less than an hour Kristina would take the stage—for the last time, if he had his way. He paused on the thought.
It was enough, for now.
It had to be.
Chapter Nine
Kiki’s hands shook as she tried to apply the eyeliner. They were doing the diamonds show again. But the last thing she wanted to do was take the stage. In fact, the concept made her ill. Agitation skated over her skin, and her gums hurt. Minion peered up at her, uncharacteristically silent. Flicking a look down at the imp, Kiki tried to smile, but her lips trembled.
“You’re going to leave.” Minion stated, her flat voice filled with sad desolation.
“Minion…” She sighed.
“Nope. Just like Pandora and Roseatre, you’re going to choose the guy and go. And I can’t blame you. Richard’s hawt—even if he is kind of cold.”
“He’s not cold.” Kiki frowned. “He’s old. Determined. Steadfast. I—”
“Do you remember him?” The imp rose from her crouch and picked her way across the cosmetics table. She pawed through the eyeliners and found one with a better tip.
Trading the bad eyeliner for the fresher one, Kiki chewed her lip. “Some, little pieces, but I know I know him—or knew him.”
