Ulrich materialized behind Gregos’s home. He needed to return to AKM to check in on Persephone, but not until he and Gregos had come to an accord.
Bain had gone too far. The time to move was now.
He scanned the empty landscape then turned his gaze back toward the sprawling structure in front of him.
Much like his own house, the Savakis manor wasn’t so much a house as it was a palace. Two stories, a full attic with dormers, and a finished basement. At least ten thousand square feet in total, made even more impressive by the multilevel patio and deck that extended the length of the home and descended toward a pond whose surface was like glass and black as oil as it reflected the predawn sky.
Moving swiftly, Ulrich approached the wall of sliding windows along the back of the home as Gregos hurried forward and opened the way in, holding his finger over his lips.
“To my office,” Gregos said softly, sliding the door closed as silently as a whisper.
The two males were quick of foot and quiet as mice as they journeyed to the den in the back of the house, but as soon as the heavy wooden doors latched behind them, Ulrich could hold back no longer.
“This is preposterous!” he said, fisting his hands and pacing. “You saw what he did to me tonight.” He pulled his collar aside to reveal the bruises King Bain had left on his neck. “He’s out of control.”
Gregos poured them a pair of drinks. Expensive bourbon from the look of it.
“To be true, you did provoke him.” Gregos handed him a glass.
“Only because he wouldn’t listen and refuses to do anything to solve this mockery Royce is making of us.”
“Still, you shouldn’t have raised your voice.”
Ulrich threw back his drink and helped himself to another. “Whose side are you on, Gregos? Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”
“My feet are fine. My point is you could have ruined our plans. Your outburst—”
“Was fully warranted!”
“Ulrich!” Gregos whisper-yelled, rushing to the door. “Keep your voice down.” He peeked out then quietly latched the door again.
Ulrich tossed back his second shot of bourbon and slammed the base of the glass on the desk. “This has gone on long enough. If Bain will do nothing about Premier Royce and the cobalt infesting the streets and infecting our children, then I say it’s time we move with our plan.”
Gregos joined him by the desk again. “What I was about to say a moment ago is that I think your outburst tipped off the king. He knows we’re up to something.”
“Then we must move quickly.”
“Or . . . we pull back and hold our aces until we have a better opportunity.”
Ulrich wouldn’t let this chance pass them by. He was out for blood and would entertain none other than a move to usurp Bain’s throne now. “There will be no better opportunity. If Bain knows we’re planning against him, then the faster we move, the better.”
Gregos sighed and swirled his glass, making the tawny liquid spin. He kept his eyes downcast.
Ulrich refilled his glass, carefully setting the bottle down as he weighed his words. “Gregos, you know we can’t wait any longer. King Bain must be stopped. Look what he did to our children. Your son . . . my daughter. Arion and Persephone would be mated and setting up their home now if not for his progressive, meddling laws. He is destroying our values . . . our traditions.”
Gregos met his eyes, his jaw tight and chin lifted, his gaze twitchy but unwavering. With a trembling hand, he lifted his glass and gulped down the contents then set the empty crystal tumbler on the polished walnut surface of his desk as he wiped his palm over his mouth.
Gregos had reason to be nervous. What they were doing was treason. If they were caught, they would be put to death. But they’d both known when they began talking about overthrowing the king in hushed whispers almost three months ago that their plotting didn’t come without risks. They’d known all along this would be dangerous.
But they had the support of at least half the aristocrats. Many of them felt Bain’s laws against arranged pairings violated their rights and put their wealth at risk. Nobody in the wealthy class wanted to see a commoner—or, God forbid, a lower class vampire—infiltrate their ranks . . . a pauper’s son mated to one of their daughters, or a whorish female mated to one of their sons. Or, God forbid, another unnatural homosexual union like Arion had with Severin.
What a travesty. An abomination really.
The shame Gregos must have felt at his son mating another male was surely a heavy burden to bear.
Which explained why Gregos had disowned Arion and removed him from his bloodline’s records, thus alleviating any chance Arion would inherit Gregos’s estate someday.
“Gregos . . .?” Ulrich prompted, stepping closer. “What say you, my friend? Can I count on you to help me bring proper values and traditions back to our race?”
Gregos poured himself another shaky glass of bourbon, the bottle rattling against the rim of the glass as his hand trembled tightly. Then he raised his drink and gave an abrupt nod. His hand still shook, making the tawny liquid shiver, but his gaze was steady. “Aye, you can count on me, old friend. I am with you.”
Ulrich raised his own glass and clinked it to Gregos’s. “Then let us toast to our success . . . and to the end of Bain’s reign.”