"Grant, where’s Toff?" I asked. Giff didn’t need to worry about Toff right now.

"He’s in my office—Heathe and Davan are babysitting until I get back. Rolfe dropped him off this morning after Giff fed him. Why?"

"I’m going to adopt Toff, that’s why," I rose from the table. "Roff may never remember either of us, and it’s already done enough damage to Giff. Get the paperwork started. We’ll work this out."

"Lissa, before you go," Erland held out a hand and a thick, creamy white envelope appeared in it. "Your grandfather sends this, with his regards."

"What is it?" I asked. Erland floated the envelope to me—it bore the crest of the King of Karathia—my grandfather, Wylend Arden. I slipped the note from the envelope to read. It was an invitation to the hundred-year ball at Wylend's palace, held, of course, every hundred years. Well, that beat the vampires' annual meeting all to heck. Only having to get dressed up every hundred years? That sounded great. I was invited to attend—with Erland, of course. Only those with Karathian blood, plus their mates and young children were allowed.

"It's not an invitation, it's more of a demand," Erland was now smiling over my shoulder as he read it.

"You're saying it's a hostage situation?" I asked.

"Well, everything but," Erland let his chin drop to my shoulder, and he kissed it while he was there. "The children are expected, too, you know."

"So Daddy and Amara will bring Wyatt?"

"I think so," Erland said, allowing his mouth to travel to my neck.

"Erland, do not give me a hickey," I tried to swat him away. The ball was to be held in three weeks.

"I'll find something for you to wear, my darling, and we'll dance in your grandfather’s ballroom." Erland tilted my chin up and gave me a blinding smile. I realized he was doing his best to take my mind off Roff.

"Want to come to the dungeon with me to visit my prisoners?" I asked. Yeah, I was blaming Roff's second memory loss on those assholes. It probably wasn't good to see them while I was so angry, but I was determined to go anyway.

"Nothing would make me happier, my love," Erland assured me.

* * *

Gavin, Tony, Erland, Winkler, Drake, Drew and Aryn were in the dungeon with me as I stood outside a cell that held three vampires. While most dungeons might be dark, leaky pits filled with rats and other vermin, mine was clean, well-lit and held cells strong enough to imprison vampires.

The three vampires held inside this cell were former Council members, AKA the ringleader assholes—the ones who'd volunteered to recruit others Council members to help the twenty-seven married assholes. They'd been more than happy to cause murder and mayhem. Already the Alliance media was calling the brief uprising The Fang Rebellion, and the increase in tourist requests to visit the palace (to see the Council chambers) had quadrupled.

"Did you really think you'd get out alive?" I stared at the three.

"Did you think to force us to part with our possessions?" one of them hissed.

"Possessions? What the fuck are you saying?" I stared at him incredulously. "You're only three hundred years old, for Pete's sake, and you didn't have a mate in all that. Slavery was outlawed long ago. I know you're from Driskilhin," I held up a hand before he could protest. "Even though your papers say you're from Trell," I added.

"I spent some time on Trell," he insisted. He was proud of his vampirism, I could tell, and flaunted his appearance as well as he could. Well, a nice face and fancy clothes weren't going to help him now.

"I don't care if you spent time on a pig's ass," I snapped. "You'll die, just like your friends, there." I nodded to the other two, who were older and knew to shut the hell up.

"Without a trial?" he sneered.

"Oh, you'll have a trial," I assured him. "I have messages from more than ninety percent of the remaining Council members, asking for your immediate execution. I assured them that we'd put you on trial, first." The most vehement message had come from Susila, our only female Council member. She and Oluwa had fought off a couple of rogues. I'm sure the rogues would be impressed with Susila's fighting skills—if they were still alive.

"You only have sixty-two Council members left," he laughed.

"Yeah. Those still alive are the ones with the most fighting experience. Too bad you thought they were all soft." Suffice to say, all of Earth's former Council members had sailed through the fray with flying colors, and with Radomir and Winkler helping, it hadn't taken long to take down the brief rebellion.

Sadly, Roff had no fighting experience and he'd suffered. He needed to get his fighting lessons from Gavin and Tony, and he needed to get them soon. I never wanted to see my winged vampire bleeding again. Not ever. I didn't care whether he remembered me or not—I still loved him.

"I wanted to see you die," the vampire interrupted my silence. "A King belongs on the throne of Le-Ath Veronis. Not some weak female."

"Aaand the misogyny comes out," I muttered.

"I can dispatch him now," Erland offered. He'd stood beside me, listening to the exchange in silence until now. Well, he probably had a spell or two up his sleeve and was itching to exercise a little power. "You'll be a pile of ash this big when I'm finished with you," Erland formed a small circle with his hands.

"Fucking Warlock," the vampire hurled his body against the bars of his cell. Erland didn't even flinch. Damn, that Warlock wasn't just a handsome face after all.

"Do that again and you'll be less than ash," Erland snapped. "You've had your say. I'll enjoy watching you die."

"You," the vampire hissed at me between the bars of his cage, "will die. I'm sorry I couldn't hand that death to you myself, but Solar Red will come for you, I promise. You are marked for death, bitch." Well, those words, marked or not, were his last—both his companions sliced him to death before he could turn to fight them. They hadn't intended for the information concerning Solar Red to get out—I could see it in their faces.

Gavin and Aryn took over after that, but the sketchy information we got from the remaining two ringleaders only told me one thing—that the one who'd died was right. They'd been contacted by Solar Red and the payment they'd received was for something they wanted to do anyway—come after me eventually. I hadn't approved any of these to come to Le-Ath Veronis, and I felt overwhelmed. It was a chore to examine every request, and many had been approved by others in my absence.

"Fuck," I muttered when the questioning came to an end. Gavin and Aryn wisely advised that we keep the Solar Red conspiracy out of the charges brought against the remaining vampires. It was enough that they'd committed treason against the crown, in addition to murdering other vampires. Their deaths were assured once they were put on trial during the next Council meeting. I nodded in silent agreement at the suggestion. The Alliance didn't need to know that Solar Red wanted me gone.

"Come, Lissa, we have more important things to attend." I accepted Erland's offered arm and we stalked away from the prisoners. After the first one died at the hands of his fellow conspirators, the vampires in other cells no longer wished to talk. Just as well—I wasn't in the mood to listen.

* * *

"What's this?" I asked. Grant had handed a comp-vid to me the moment I arrived in my private study.

"The summons to attend the Five-Year Conclave, complete with a list of more than three hundred agenda items," Grant said, hauling Toff into his arms. Toff had been running around my desk and laughing as Davan struggled to pick up the string of papers, envelopes and office supplies that Toff dropped in his wake. Grant had just curtailed Toff's race.

"Come here, baby boy," I lifted Toff from Grant's arms and settled him on my hip. He grinned at me and swiped at the comp-vid in my other hand.

"No, you don't want to go to a meeting with a bunch of dried-up politicians," I held the comp-vid away from Toff's tiny fists. He giggled. I tossed the comp-vid onto my desk. The Conclave agenda could wait—the meeting was two months away and I had more pressing personal business.

The rest of the day was spent putting the application together for Toff’s adoption. I held the baby on my lap while Davan patiently filled out legal papers. He smiled often as we went through the required forms—Toff would be a member of his family, too, once the application was approved. My Uncle was good with paperwork and he and Grant made suggestions on what to write in as the reason I'd be adopting Toff. When we were finished, there was only one thing to do—I had to call Giff into my study and ask her permission.

Rolfe ushered her into my office only a few minutes after I sent for her. She’d grown her hair longer and had taken to wearing women’s clothing, even though she was young and far from making the turn. I’d added a stipend to her salary for clothing, and Rolfe generously added to that amount.

"Raona?" Giff nodded to me. I could tell she’d been crying.

"Giff, I’ve asked you here to get your permission to adopt Toff," I said. "Your father’s memory has worsened, it seems, and I worry that you’ll have your hands full with your own child very soon. This will ensure that Toff will be cared for. He'll still be your brother, of course."

"Raona, I appreciate your offer. Rolfe said you might suggest this, and we think it is a good thing," Giff sniffled. Grant held out a box of tissues. Giff accepted it with a tearful nod of thanks.

"Good," I breathed a relieved sigh. "I’ll present the application to the committee that handles the surrogate sire applications—this won’t be much different. It may take a month or so, but I’m sure it will be approved."

Toff chose that moment to giggle while he patted my cheek.