“Whether I’m here, or whether I’m in the throne room,” he said, “I’m still a king. As a king, I have to do things that, as a man, I’d prefer not to do.” He sat beside me on the butter-soft leather sofa. He took one of my hands in both of his, and it didn’t immediately occur to me to object.

“Please, Morgan,” he asked, and his eyes echoed that plea. “Please honor your agreement with me. We will disagree at times, and we will argue. That is inevitable given who we are. But we should choose our battles carefully. And this isn’t something we should battle over.”

I had the distinct impression I was being shamelessly manipulated, but there was no doubt he was wearing me down. Perhaps I was just too tired to care anymore.

“All right,” I said grudgingly. “I’ll do my best to let you stay in control as I wake up.” I frowned. “Though to tell you the truth, I’m not sure how to wake myself up without fighting you. The two have always gone hand in hand before.”

“No, not always,” he said cryptically.

“Morgan?” said a voice, one that didn’t belong to Lugh, one that seemed strangely distant.

My eyes locked with Lugh’s. That sounded suspiciously like. .

“Time to wake up,” the voice said again, a little less distant.

And this time, there was no doubting whose voice that was. It took every ounce of my willpower not to immediately start struggling against Lugh’s control as I realized what he must have done.

“Please don’t,” he said simply. “I had to talk to him, and I needed someone to wake you.”

I had a few colorful suggestions for him, but I didn’t fight his control. The living room dissolved, just as the throne room had. Only this time, when I opened my eyes, it was to look up into Andrew’s face as he gently shook my shoulder.

No, not Andrew. Raphael. And unfortunately, this time it wasn’t an illusion or a dream.

CHAPTER 18

I wanted to reach up and rub the sleep from my eyes, but Lugh didn’t seem to feel the same need. He pushed himself into a sitting position, then swung his legs out from under the covers. Raphael backed up to give him room.

“Am I speaking to Morgan, or Lugh?” Raphael asked.

“Lugh. At least for the moment.”

There was a chair in the far corner of my bedroom. It was too heavy to move easily, but that didn’t stop Raphael from dragging it over to face the bed and then sitting in it. Sometimes, it must be nice to have demon strength. Of course, I currently had it myself, and I’d just as soon have done without. I wasn’t used to letting Lugh control me like this, and all my primal survival instincts shouted at me to fight, to run, to do something to win my way free.

I felt Lugh’s muscles tense, then relax when I resisted the urge to struggle.

Was this what it was like for Andy? Could he feel everything Raphael did with his body, feel the coarse fabric on the chair’s upholstery under his hands while being powerless to move those hands? If so, how could he stand it? Could I really believe my brother was alive and well inside his body?

“How is your host faring?” Lugh asked, shocking me and, judging by the look on his face, Raphael as well.

“The first time we’ve been able to talk to each other outside of an immediate crisis for perhaps a century, and that’s what you want to ask me?”

Mentally, I started. I knew, of course, that demons were long-lived, if not immortal. And I knew how badly Lugh and Raphael had gotten along. But it had never occurred to me that they hadn’t spoken to one another for so long.

“Remember, brother,” Lugh said, “unlike yourself, I’m in partnership with my host. Which means her concerns are important to me. So tell me how Andrew fares.”

Raphael shook his head. “Why should I bother? Neither you nor Morgan will believe me if I tell you he’s fine.” I’d never seen my brother’s face look petulant before. It wasn’t a flattering expression.

I felt my teeth grinding and knew that Lugh was struggling to control himself.

Don’t throw a conniption fit on my behalf, I thought at him. You know I’ve already had this conversation with him, and his assurances haven’t made me feel any better.

“Do you blame us for not fully trusting you?” Lugh asked. “Would you trust me if our positions were reversed?”

Raphael crossed his arms over his chest and slumped in his chair. I swear he looked just like a sulking teenager. “Nothing I ever do is enough for you. No matter how many risks I’ve taken for you, no matter—”

Lugh growled. “Stop whining! If the only reason you’re helping me—if you are indeed helping me—is so you can use your cooperation as emotional blackmail, then don’t bother.”

The demon Raphael flared in Andrew’s eyes, and for a moment I thought he was going to launch himself at us. Lugh tensed, apparently sharing my suspicion, but Raphael managed to keep his ass in the chair. He gripped the arms of his chair with both hands, and the knuckles turned white.

Uh, Lugh, I don’t think goading him and telling him what a shit he is is terribly productive, I said. Funny how much more rational I could be when it was Lugh arguing with Raphael rather than myself.

“And who was it who goaded him into hitting her the last time she spoke with him?” Lugh asked aloud.

If my body had been my own, I’m sure I would have flushed beet red at the reminder. I definitely wasn’t in a position to throw stones.

To my surprise, Raphael chuckled and seemed to relax. “I have mentioned before that you and Morgan make a surprisingly compatible team.” The humor faded from his face, but at least the sullenness didn’t return. “Andrew is fine. We are neither of us happy with our forced alliance, but we are making the best of the situation.”

Lugh snorted. “No one’s forcing the alliance except you.”

Raphael leaned forward in his chair. “You’re forgetting something, brother. Andrew and I have despised one another almost since the first moment we met. I have the power to destroy him, but because of you and Morgan, I’m not doing it. So yes, I am being forced into an alliance I’d very much prefer to give up.”

Then give it up, you asshole, I wanted to say, but of course my voice wasn’t under my own control at the moment.

I felt my lips curl into a smile that was more like a snarl. “I’d be happy to help you give it up, little brother,” Lugh said, and it seemed like every muscle in my body tensed.

Raphael tensed, too. “You think you can exorcize me?” His lips curled into a snarl very like his brother’s. “Are you certain which one of us would win if we fought?”

Lugh had told me once that he wasn’t sure, that he and Raphael were evenly matched. But he seemed to have forgotten that doubt now.

“Let’s find out,” Lugh said, and before the words had left his mouth, he had propelled himself off the bed and slammed into Raphael’s body.

What are you doing? I screamed in my mind. If they fought and Lugh lost, then it was all over. Dougal would gain the throne, and everything I’d gone through—that we’d gone through—would be worth diddly squat.

Lugh didn’t answer me. The chair crashed to the floor, and Raphael ended up trapped on his back, with Lugh holding him down. Andrew was a lot bigger than me, but Lugh was strong enough to compensate, especially when he was already on top. Their eyes locked, and although the effort to exorcize a demon is not a physical one, I was still aware of Lugh mustering his energy, of his aura pressing down on Raphael’s.

I desperately wanted to take back the reins of my body, but it was too late now. If I started fighting against Lugh, I could destroy his concentration, and it would all be over.

Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that Lugh would let his temper get the better of him. Yes, I’d seen flashes of that temper before. And yes, I knew how deep-seated was the animosity between him and his brother. Still, I’d thought the same sense of responsibility that I spent most of my time cursing would keep him from doing something so rash. I mentally held my breath, hoping and praying that Lugh turned out to be stronger.