Chapter 5 #3
“Culloden was a mistake.” The words came from behind, from Barrons.
All heads turned in his direction and he shrugged, as if admitting a truth they were too embarrassed to claim.
“You cannot slaughter an entire race without consequences. Wiping out the Scottish verwulfen clans was only ever going to incite anger. But it was done by our forefathers and there is nothing we can do about it, Will.”
“And the Manchester Pits? Where they throw us in with wild dogs and bears to bait? Or pit us against each other for blood sport?”
“They are private enterprises,” the prince consort replied, his fingers slowly drumming on the armrest. “Most of them owned by humans, actually.”
Which meant he didn’t give a damn. Will knew what it was like to be trapped behind bars, or cut open for the pleasure of a crowd. And yet there was nothing to be done… Verwulfen were outlawed in Britain and capturing them and using them as slaves was not only legal, but encouraged.
Staring at the prince consort with his pale bloodless face, Will could barely control the surge of anger that boiled in his gut. “What do the Scandinavian clans think o’ your policies?”
The prince consort’s fingers stopped tapping.
“Do you know what they do to blue bloods in Scandinavia?” A tight little smile eased over his mouth.
“As I am willing to overlook certain things for the greater good, so are they. This threat from the Continent is of far greater concern than a few individuals.”
Will shot a look of pure hatred toward the man. “Then I ain’t inclined to be obligin’. You’ll have to use someone else.”
Turning on his heel, the heat of fury burning in his cheeks, he jerked his head toward Blade. As far as he was concerned, this audience was over.
“Not even for ten thousand pounds?” The prince consort barely raised his voice, but Will heard it.
He laughed darkly. The Echelon. Thinking they could buy a man for his weight in gold.
He had one hand on the door handle when Barrons spoke up. “What if the terms were ones that interested you?”
“You can’t buy me. Not even you, Barrons.”
“What if the price was a change in the law?”
Will froze, hand on the doorknob.
As if encouraged, Barrons stepped closer, his boots sinking into the plush carpets. “If you help us sign this treaty with Scandinavia, then we would be willing to make certain changes to the law. No more cages or headhunters, Will. We would outlaw pit-fighting if you wished it.”
His breath caught in his chest, and he turned on his heel. The five blue bloods stared at him without expression. The sight gave him the impression that this had been the trap all along. “Why do you need me so much? Sounds like you’ve almost got it signed.”
“There are opposing factions in each camp,” Barrons replied with a grimace. “The Norwegian clans are furiously adamant that they don’t need us, and there are one or two Council members of our own who oppose this.”
Will took another look around. Not only councilors who’d voted for Blade to live then, but the ones who wanted this treaty to succeed. “And I’m to woo the Norwegian clans?”
“They’re old-fashioned,” the prince consort replied. “And crude. But they’re also a loud voice in the Riksdag. We would like to show that our two species can live amicably.” His smile widened. “And you are a perfect representative. You would appeal to them immensely.”
“I think ’e just called you crude,” Blade muttered.
Will ignored him. “If I can win the Norwegian clans over and see the treaty signed, then you’ll revoke the law that outlaws verwulfen?”
The prince consort nodded.
“I’ll want that in writin’,” Will said. “And witnessed.”
A slight narrowing of the prince consort’s eyes. “Agreed.”
“That ain’t all. I want the pits outlawed. All verwulfen that are caged or slaved are to be set free and given equal rights as humans…or blue bloods.”
Another nod.
“And the price on me head is lifted, you understand? I come and go as I please.” No more skulking about the city, running the rooftops at night. Free to go where he wanted. Free to walk the city streets without people trying to kill him—or cage him.
The prince consort waved a negligent hand. “Would you like that in writing too?”
Will bared his teeth. “Absolutely.”
***
“That were well done,” Blade said, hauling himself up into the steam carriage with a grunt.
Will nodded past him to Rip, who wore a coachman’s livery and heavy cloak.
Beneath that cloak lurked an armory of weapons, as well as the heavy, mech arm that would damn him in this company.
At the back of the carriage hovered Tin Man, another of Blade’s men.
Light gleamed off the metal cap that was meshed to his scalp.
He couldn’t speak, but he was damn good with a blade.
“Take ’im home,” Will said, clapping Tin Man on the shoulder. “Make sure he gets there.”
Blade poked his head through the window. “Where’re you goin’?”
“Takin’ care of a promise I made.”
“Alone?”
“I’ve got safe passage,” he retorted. “Might as well use it for the night.”
A long pause. “Be careful.”
“Always.” He turned on his heel and strode back toward the ball. Despite the overwhelming presence of blue bloods, a small smile played about his lips.
This time Lena was his.