When he’d touched base with Amara tonight, she’d reported that Jess was pleased with Robert’s work. Some of his irritation was replaced with something more pleasurable when he remembered what else Amara said. “She demanded—her words, my lord—

that as you fly home and come into range of our minds again, you abstain from looking into hers. She wants you to get the full effect of the design she chose, in person.”

“Women,” he responded. “You are all alike in your vanity.”

“As males are in their arrogance.” Amara had a smile in her voice. “She misses you, my lord. She wants you to come home soon.”

“She is all right? Her nightmares—”

“You mistake me, my lord,” Amara cut in gently. “It is not what I observed, though it is obvious enough. She asked me to tell you that.”

It had been ridiculous how much those words meant to him, the spear of reaction that went through his chest. He was nearly nine hundred years old. But though he made himself go over all the dampening things he’d told himself about Jessica ever since their first twinge of connection, it didn’t change the strength of his desire to see her, his growing impatience with being here.

Stay levelheaded. You are guaranteeing her future. What Brian was working on could conceivably sever every tie she had to the vampire world, and truly allow her to live her life as she wished. He would of course make sure she was watched over, protected, but if Brian’s idea worked, or Derek was able to help him, she wouldn’t remember Mason at all.

Or Raithe, he reminded himself. He could take away her nightmares.

I miss you, too, Jessica. Recalling the sensual hip movements she’d practiced in the ballroom, he wondered if she’d practiced any more. Or taken Hasna for a canter on the beach. Followed the landscapers around and asked them questions about the flowers, or gotten on her knees to help them plant or trim. Easy things, the things that added up to a contented, happy life.

He had to do this for her. Damn it, he wished Lyssa was here. She was the one trained as queen and diplomat, after all. As he had the thought, he cursed his shortsightedness. Of course. Who better to help? He wished he’d thought of it earlier, but then he hadn’t known he was being summoned before an audience more likely to raise his homicidal instincts than his diplomatic ones, meager though the latter were.

Stopping, he gestured the escort to go on. “Tell the Council I will be there in a few moments. I need to make a call.” Stepping into a side room, which appeared to be a small, unoccupied study, he removed his rarely used cell phone and took a bracing breath. Hit one of the five permanent numbers he’d had Enrique program into it, since he had little patience with such things.

The world is outgrowing you, old vampire. Perhaps you need someone young to keep you on your toes. He curled his lip at his subconscious as the phone rang an ocean away. It was picked up almost immediately, the male voice on the other end filled with amusement.

“Okay, when’s the end of the world happening, and do we have time to fix dinner before it happens?”

“Jacob.” Mason allowed himself a smile, already feeling a loosening in his chest. “I need to talk to your Mistress, and unfortunately my time is very limited.”

“Hold on a second. She owes you. She lost the flip for diaper duty, so you just saved her from the consequences.”

“Lyssa is changing diapers?”

“A cardinal from the local diocese is rushing over even as we speak, to record the miraculous event—ow.” Mason grinned, imagining what blow Jacob had absorbed. While he didn’t count many male vampires as friends, Jacob was the exception. Though Jacob had acquired most of Lyssa’s remarkable strength and speed on the bloody, terrible day she converted him to a vampire, Mason still had difficulty thinking of him as a nonhuman, probably because Jacob retained much of the casual mannerisms of his mortal roots.

Jacob’s turning by his Mistress had been an act censured by vampire law. While she’d been pardoned for it, given that she’d also saved the Council’s asses in the same evening, she wasn’t welcome to sit as the Council advisor anymore. The main reason for that was because she’d more fully embraced the Fey half of her lineage since then, and the vampire world was largely purist.

Through Mason’s efforts and those of her allies, the Council was softening in their opinion toward her again. Allies such as Lord Brian, who had worked with Jacob after the extraordinary event and whose father was a Region Master with great pull with the Council, and Lord Uthe, who was on the Council and a faithful advocate of Lyssa. While their support was vital, she’d also since given birth, and born vampires were too rare to be snubbed. He hadn’t yet seen the child, but he understood she’d had a boy.

“What is it, Mason?”

It was the same imperious tone, wrapped up in a sultry voice that went straight to a man’s cock. He winced as she huffed out a soft chuckle.

“One of these days, Mason, you will visit often enough to remember our minds are linked. And that my range is far greater than most.”

“My apologies, my lady.”

“Accepted. Explain what you need.”

It made it easier, giving it to her in his mind, concisely summarized. Jessica Tyson. Rescued, given three marks, and now he was trying to get Council to pardon her. How should he approach?

“Was her Master’s death accidental?”

“Opportunistic. He kidnapped her and forced her to serve him, Lyssa. And not service in the way we honor it. She was tortured for five years. I’ve seen things in her mind that . . .” Pausing, he gave her brief flashes of Jess’s memories.

“Great Goddess.” The hollow shock in Lyssa’s voice reminded him, too late.

“My deepest apologies, Lyssa. I didn’t think. You and Rex—”

“Rex did nothing that I did not allow him to do to me.” She cut across him sharply, shutting the avenue down, though Mason cursed himself for his own insensitivity. It seemed his desire to help Jessica had shut out everything else of consequence.

“Rex broke my heart,” Lyssa continued, in a more dispassionate tone. “But I gave it to him. This girl gave nothing. It was all taken.

Now, make sure the Council is aware of this. Lead with it, and get Uthe on your side first. If he can bring Belizar along, the others will mostly follow. Three are very conservative on the issue of servants killing their Masters. All the more reason you need to convince them of the uniqueness of the situation, and, most importantly, that she will not become a rallying point for other human servants to murder their Masters. Emphasize how exceptional a situation this is.

“She managed it with Raithe only because she was extremely lucky. There is no exaggeration in that. In any other reality, she would be dead. And Mason”—her tone sharpened again—“do not lose your temper. That will not serve you in this instance. The more emotional you seem, the worse it will go. Do you have feelings for this girl?”

“I don’t see how—”

“You certainly do. Goddess, I should have known. Another rescued maiden, and once you’ve risked all to save her, you’ll go back to ground like a mole again.”

“It’s not like that,” Mason snapped and then cut himself off, realizing he’d just underscored her point.

At the pause on the other end of the line, he was uncomfortably aware she might be plumbing things in his mind he himself didn’t want to face. “Hmm,” she said at last. “We’ll see. I’ll believe it when I don’t see you brushing cave dirt off your backside.

Regardless, you must push any feelings you have for her aside. They have no place in that chamber. Your approach should address Raithe’s lack of judgment only. The reason she should be pardoned must logically benefit the vampire community. The benefit to her is secondary. Do you understand?”

“I do. You’re still a pain in the ass.”

“At least my head is not stuck up mine.”

He bit down on a retort. But at the sound of a squall, followed by Jacob’s deep murmur of reassurance, warmth swirled in his chest, replacing the annoyance. “Are you going to bring that child to meet me sometime soon?”

“Anytime you wish.”

“You’re always welcome, Lyssa.” He paused, thinking ahead. “Actually, how about very soon? If things don’t go well here—and with my gift for diplomacy, we know that’s likely—I’ll need to work out a way to protect her. Your resources might help.”

“So if the Council rules against you, you won’t turn her over.”

He knew she could read it from his mind, and in these echoing halls, he had the presence of mind not to say it aloud.

As long as I have life to defend her, she will never be harmed again. The unexpected surge of determined rage, the bloodlust that accompanied it, blocked out everything else for an unsteady moment. Lyssa was silent on the other end as he got a handle on it. “I wish you were here.”

“Mason, you can do this.” Rather than soothing or encouraging, her tone was reassuringly impatient. “You are far more adept at politics than you wish to admit, and you know it. This girl’s life is at stake, and you are more than capable of saving it. Don’t doubt yourself.”

“Yes, my lady.” A smile tugged at his mouth when she continued briskly.

“Fine, then. We will come, if you don’t mind us bringing Lady Daniela. She and her servant Devlin are visiting.”

“All right. I’ll send a plane for you. I’ll have Enrique transfer you the itinerary.”

“Good. Your staff should set up a nursery for us.” A hesitation, and then, “Am I seeing this correctly in your mind? You found her in Farida’s tomb?”

“Yes.”

He heard Lyssa murmur something to Jacob, and then she came back to the phone. “We’ll be there in a few days. Watch your step, and don’t lose your temper.”

She clicked off. Like most monarchs, Lyssa saw no reason to continue beating a point once she’d made it. And of course she had diapers to change. Shaking his head at the irony of it, Mason headed toward Council chambers. As he strode the corridors, he relaxed his shoulders and worked on a mantra to keep him calm. Ripping out throats won’t help Jessica. Bashing in heads does not change minds.