“And now it’s not?” Sasha said, challenging him.

“Have you any idea what would happen to the Sidhe if rumors of a loss of power were to get out?” Sir Rodney paced away from Sasha and spoke with his hands behind his back as he walked the perimeter of the room. “You have no insight into Fae culture or you would be aware of just how dangerous any perception of a loss of power could be.” He stopped walking and stared at both Sasha and Hunter. “A weak monarch is a failed monarch. If he or she cannot keep the magick strong in the community, then he or she is destined to be overthrown-that’s why it was a matter of Fae national security.”

Sasha relaxed slightly and turned to Hunter. “No less than a weak alpha at the helm of the Wolf Federations… Someone would be bound to call a challenge match.”

Hunter nodded and relaxed. “We gave you our word, and our word is our bond-to help you. That pledge will not change.”

“Thank you,” Sir Rodney said.

“But you need to tell us about the blood scent as well as the sigil,” Sasha amended.

Sir Rodney dragged his fingers through his hair. “That is complicated.”

The eldest advisor stepped forward, speaking slowly as dictated by his advanced years, but that in no way was an indicator of his keen mind. “Milord, as you know, Thompson Loughlin… one of our shrewdest Fae investigators, has a lead.”

“Good man, Loughlin,” Sir Rodney said, nodding, and ignoring the advisor’s overt hint that they had their own man working on the case-therefore there was no reason to involve Sasha and Hunter. “Finest nose for discreet investigations… I believe his mother served in a high post in my mother’s court years ago. His father was a digger Gnome in the Netherlands-a unique blend that makes him the best at unearthing hidden treasures and hidden truths. Yes, I am pleased that he is involved… Go on.”

Okay, now she knew something was being held back. Sir Rodney had just gone into a politician’s stiff spiel in front of his advisors, and he’d completely evaded her question about the blood. She’d wait for them to go through the motions, but not for long.

Glancing around the room when only silence greeted him, Sir Rodney reassured his skeptical staff. “These are unusual circumstances where we would break from tradition to speak freely before outsiders. But I trust the Shadow Wolves with my very life.” He looked at Sasha and then Hunter. “We may speak freely before trusted friends.”

Both Sasha and Hunter gave Sir Rodney a nod that contained unspoken thanks as their bodies visibly relaxed.

The elderly advisor drew a weary breath and extracted a wand from his billowing robe sleeve. Tapping on the round war table, he waited as a small, spherical miasma formed, creating a ball of mist that soon cleared as though a snow globe had settled. All eyes stared at the grisly scene of a scorched bird carcass still smoldering.

“We have seen the sigil… but it is not one we are familiar with. It will take some time to decode it, even though we know it is a brand of chaos magick. Some of the markings are taking us an inordinate amount of time to decode. But the basic feel to it is darkness.” The ancient advisor calmly returned his wand to his sleeve, causing the miasma to dissipate.

“This is an outrage; we will call for a Vampire inquisition. She could have been assaulted by a Vampire’s Black Death charge or their sorcery, if the markings of the sigil are impossible to read! It must be in their guttural language. How do we know for sure that’s not what it is?” Sir Rodney slammed his fist against the table and then walked away. “This is war.”

“Inadvisable, milord,” his second advisor warned, stepping forward with the others in a subtle display of solidarity.

“If you bring an inquisition on such speculative evidence as a Blood Oasis membership card and a few calendar markings, with only partial hearsay testimony that something was wrong from a dead Phoenix girl and your own special investigator, and we later learn it is not the bloodsuckers who are at fault… then we have not only presented a weak case that will come to nothing at the United Council of Entities, but we will have also alerted our archenemy that our defenses are weak, that our magick is fading…”

“Penelope gave us nothing through the Pixie,” Sasha added, siding with Sir Rodney’s advisors. “Gretchen was waiting for her and she never showed-they never talked. That’s a dead end.”

“I have been king of the Seelie Court for more than three hundred years. Never,” Sir Rodney said through his teeth, “has my court ever experienced such an insidious attack. Who else but Vampires would do this?” He spun on his advisors. “No… the better question is, who beside the Vampires would be strong enough or brazen enough that they could do this?”

“Need I remind you of your ex-wife, sir?” The eldest advisor just stared at him.

Sir Rodney waved him off and walked away. “After all these years, with her territories solvent, there is no reason to provoke war between us. We’ve already been down that path-she took her lot and I have taken mine here in New Orleans. There’s no motive.”

“Unless your powers were waning and your borders were weak. She is an excellent strategist and a very patient sort.”

For a moment, no one in the room spoke as Sir Rodney stared at his top advisor. Sasha and Hunter shared a discreet look.

“This is why I caution you to employ temperance until we learn more, milord,” his eldest advisor pressed on, his monotone voice slowly stating the facts. “There are those who would dare not challenge you while strong, but if there is any indication that there was an erosion of your power, you would have to fight off enemies as though a swarm of locusts.”

The other advisors nodded.

Now Sasha really understood the dilemma marrow-deep. Both wolves caught each other’s meaningful glances within their peripheral vision, both fully cognizant of what was at stake for Sir Rodney. The tension in the room was palpable as Sasha’s previous rage dissipated.

Sir Rodney slowly returned to the table to lean against it with both hands. He closed his eyes and allowed his head to drop forward in frustration.

“Milord,” a third and very shy advisor murmured, speaking so softly that Sir Rodney lifted his head just to hear him. “The situation, as you have guessed, is worsening.”

Sir Rodney didn’t respond to his advisor, but stared at Sasha and Hunter. “Now do you understand why we could not send Thompson on an errand to directly investigate this Phoenix death? It wasn’t a matter of trust, but that of national security. Had we done so, it would have appeared odd… that the Fae would be delving into Mythic Parliament affairs. Once that became gossip… word of our involvement would surely travel. That could tip off our unknown enemies that something is amiss in our own yard. We must preserve the appearance of strength at all costs.”

“Aye,” a fourth advisor confirmed and then looked at the fifth advisor to his left.

Clearing his throat, the fifth advisor glanced at the others before he addressed the king, and then looked at Sasha and Hunter. “That is why we needed a friend outside of the Fae to repay a favor once given with a favor now needed and duly earned.”

“Those who do not lie, whose silver auras speak of their sterling reputation for loyalty and honor… as is the way of the wolf,” the fifth advisor said quietly. “We must have your word as your bond that you never speak of our waning powers beyond yourselves.”

“My word given,” Hunter said, lifting his chin.

“And mine,” Sasha said.

The fifth advisor looked around at the group and the other advisors nodded, clearly having discussed this amongst themselves already.

“We should be sure that all our allies are at the Midsummer Night’s Ball three nights hence… They must be in New Orleans during this time when the moon is full,” his eldest advisor said, beginning to slowly stroll past each of the younger Gnomes as he spoke. “If there is foul play, our effectiveness could be strained. It would be prudent to have strong battalions of our friends at the ready… those who owe us, and who also know that once you owe the Fae, to renege is tantamount to treason.”