“You were my servant,” Titus said dismissively. “I gave similar sets of blades to everyone in my retinue. There were hundreds of you. I decimated an entire olive grove to accommodate the wood needed.”

Without taking his gaze from the emperor, Leo said, “She attacked you yesterday, my Enforcer. Who was she attacking this time?”

I thought back to the wild leap in the air. The direction of Cym’s barely seen arms. The people on the other side of her. “She wasn’t throwing a blade. She was casting a curse. I believe it was directed at Sabina, the outclan priestess.”

Leo’s eyebrow quirked up, just the one. “Indeed?”

That’s what it looked like. I didn’t say that. I said, with certainty, “Yes.”

Beast is best hunter. Beast will eat witch head.

Beast will not.

Beast hungers.

“Who sent her?” Titus asked.

“You. Me. A third party who wishes to rule,” Leo said. “Any of a hundred names come to mind, including Clan Des Citrons, who killed cattle on my hunting lands before joining with you.”

“They were on your lands?” Titus made a tsk-tsk sound. “I would never allow an unsworn Mithran onto my lands. I control my lands and my cattle better than that.”

Leo chuckled, that silky sound that coated the flesh of all prey, a laugh full of power and conquest. “They are on your boat, sleeping with you and yours. After being on my lands. How did they get from the house where they killed, to your ship?” Leo’s laughter sang in the rafters. “They are there. Safe. You must ask yourself, what did I offer them to turn on you?”

Titus flinched, just the tiniest bit. So did I. Had Leo helped the clan to get away and to Titus? Had he turned them? Had he let those people die and then helped the killers get free? No. I’d have heard. Alex would have heard. Leo was sowing discord among Titus and all his people. Probably. “My Enforcer. Do you know how she came to this island?”

I moved to the window and called down, “Lachish! We need you up here.” To the EVs I said, “Lachish Dutillet cast the ward around this house.”

Lachish stepped up the last step, walked over to the body, and silently studied it. She had to have been waiting to be called. When I killed the vamp/witch she probably felt the energies and headed up the stairs. She turned to the room and put her shoulders back. Speaking to Titus, she said, “Each time the Europeans have come ashore, there has been an anomaly at the ward. There is no proof, but, there is the anomaly. And we have recorded the timing with electronic security.”

Sabina said, “Points against the Europeans for trying to disable or kill a judge. The next such infraction will result in severe penalty. True-death is not ruled out.”

Titus said, “You cannot bring me to true-death.”

Sabina pulled her gloved hands out of her starched skirts. In one hand was a spear of wood. “I can and I will.”

Titus took a step back before he could catch himself.

He pursed his lips, then nodded once, regally. “Your ruling is accepted.”

He looked at Leo and some unheard communication seemed to take place. Leo and Titus stepped silently across the wood floors, both wearing fighting leathers tonight, both moving gracefully, as if they danced a gavotte in some drafty old palace. Both with hands clasped behind their backs.

“Do you recognize her?” Leo asked.

“I do not. You?”

Liar, liar, royal pantaloons on fire.

“Yes. She is Bancym M’lareil, once sworn to Jack Shoffru. He tried to take my lands and ended up as a pile of ash.”

Titus looked ever so slightly impressed. “I wondered what had happened to that old pirate. I suppose you should take her head,” he said.

“Since she hid among your retinue to come ashore, I relinquish the honor to you. Such humiliation should be avenged.”

Titus’s eyes went narrow as he realized he had been both insulted and gifted with the task of taking the head of his sworn scion. But he drew his sword and took Cym’s head. Cleaned the blade on her clothes.

“Well done, my Enforcer,” Leo said. To the emperor he said, “Shall we return to the festivities?”

“Of a certainty.”

Festivities? Fangheads celebrated the weirdest things.

Titus added, “Though you have few in leadership positions with which to continue. Do you abdicate New Orleans and the territories you administer?”

“I do not. Do you abdicate the territories of Western Europe?”

“Tedious as it may seem, I do not.”

“Then let us cut to the chase,” Leo said. “It is an American phrase meaning that we should cease all this meaningless bloodshed. I suggest that we, you and I, duel tonight.”

“We alone?” Titus asked, sounding surprised. The two circled back to the witch’s dead body and then meandered toward Sabina, who waited patiently at the head of the room. “But your Enforcer has yet to duel.”

Enforcer. Glacie was next on the list. Glacie, the hulking woman vamp. I had actually seen video of her fighting. She was deadly. And . . . Leo was trying to keep me safe. Why?

Dark Queen . . . That.

“We alone. On the sand, much like the death match between Kyros and Nicanor,” Leo said. “It was a thing of beauty, and the mastership of all of Greece was granted into the talons and fangs of Kyros.”

“It was a splendorous bout,” Titus agreed, standing beside Leo, the two now looking out the nearest window, standing with much the same posture, feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind their backs. “The view of the water here is magnificent. I suggest we engage there, on the beach sand, beneath the moon and stars.”

“Shall we toast to this?”

“Oh ho!” Titus slapped Leo’s back in what looked like camaraderie. “I have heard that you retain the services of a human from the Orient, one who tastes of hazelnuts? Is this so?”

“Ah,” Leo said. “Chin Ho. He is actually Grégoire’s, but he is here. His name means Precious and Goodness. He is from the land now known as Korea, and is most beautiful to look upon, as he is to taste. He is about fifty years old and is aging well, like a fine wine. I would be honored to have your opinion,” Leo said, all civility and elegance.

“I have a lovely woman I would share with you,” Titus said.

I took off before I barfed. They were talking about humans as if they were liquor and slaves. Ticked me off. I left the third floor and took the stairs to the ground, under the house. The fighting rings here had absorbed the blood, and the blood itself had been diluted with water from the shower. In spots, the sand was the pale pinkish color of watery blood.

What was a Dark Queen even supposed to do in this situation?

Jane will fly by cloth over haunches.

Seat of my pants.

Yes. Jane/Beast will know what to do when Jane must do it.

This is ridiculous. Stupid.

This is fighting for territory. Beast has fought for territory before. And has eaten big-cat who challenged for hunting grounds.

That does not make me feel better.

Beast is best ambush hunter.

Still stupid. Stupid Sangre Duello. Stupid fangheads. Stupid Leo.

Then again, I thought, war between countries where millions of young human men and women died while their leaders sat in safety behind the lines was even more stupid and ridiculous. Plans were made and discarded, cities were taken and lost, and people died for nothing. Still. This sucked. I went back upstairs and raided Deon’s commercial fridge, taking a heaping tureen of roasted pig meat and a single fork to the front porch. I set it on a table and dropped onto a lounge chair, putting my booted feet up. And ate.

Bruiser took the chair beside me. He was holding two glasses of wine. “I’m not certain of the proper wine for whole smoked pork, but decided on an Australian Cabernet-Shiraz and a Chilean Merlot. Which do you prefer?” He held out both glasses.

“Shouldn’t you be off doing Onorio stuff?”

“If I have to do another Onorio task I think I shall go raving mad. I need to be with you.” He still held out the glasses.

I remembered that the Merlot had sucked all the moisture out of my mouth. “I’ll have the Shiraz. Unless you have a Boone’s Farm Fuzzy Navel. That reminds me of Creamsicle, and I’d kill for a Creamsicle right now.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Not really,” I amended. “Not kill.”