The tinkling glass sent Remiel to the floor.

Zahra barked, “Who is attacking? How come we didn’t get any warning?”

His fault. He might have knocked out some of the defense systems on his way into the manor. They were in his way.

Besides, one did not deny a king entrance, especially not when he came seeking the sum of his existence.

“Does it matter how they got onto the property?” grumbled Yolanda.

The Silver matriarch crouched behind her desk, and her eyes glowed green. “How dare they invade my territory.” With that ominous growl, Zahra ran for the shattered patio doors and dove through, a blur of woman, shredding fabric, and glinting silver.

Looked like fun. Remiel wasn’t averse to joining her, especially since he wanted answers, but he didn’t need to go outside to get those.

He reached out and grabbed Samael by the collar and dragged him close before demanding, “Why are your men attacking?”

“Are you fucking deluded? This isn’t my doing. I’m being shot at, too.”

Good point. A glance at the scowling Anastasia huddling behind a table she’d overturned made it pretty clear she hadn’t orchestrated this either.

Who did that leave?

Do the humans dare attack us on the Silvers’ grounds?

The distinct percussion of a helicopter rotor got louder, and as black-combat-clad figures dashed toward the house, spilling from invisible blinds—the magical kind he’d not known existed until this moment—bodies also rappelled from the sky.

The house was under a full-scale attack. How epic.

What fun.

As king, it fell on him to help defend the manor.

And yet…as Remiel dove out the window and went after the first idiot to point a gun, he noted, for all the flashiness of the attack, it was also a rather futile one.

He grabbed the rifle from the fellow in black combat gear and tore it from his human grip. Before he could demand answers, the body convulsed and collapsed, leaving Remiel to stand over the body. He wasn’t the only one sorely disappointed.

A sea of silver poured out of the house and burst into their primal shapes. Sinuous bodies, glittering scales, sharp talons, and wings filled the sky. They trilled as they hunted, proved beautifully deadly as they struck, shredding the attacking enemy until only one remained. One sniveling human held in the grip of Remiel’s brother.

“Who sent you?” Samael shook the human, and this time, Remiel caught the glint of something in its mouth. His brother must have seen it, too, because he tilted the human and pounded him on the back until something shot free. A capsule.

Want to bet it’s full of poison?

Someone didn’t want them to get any answers.

Too bad.

Unsatisfied by the fight, Remiel had little patience for the weasel who still refused to answer Samael.

Remiel tore the attacker from his brother’s grip, tossed him in the air, and watched him land before asking, “Who sent you to kill me?”

“What he meant to say,” Samael interjected, “was who sent you to kill me? The rightful king.”

Lying on his back, the human, stinking of his own mortality, grinned through bloody teeth. “The true leader is coming. Pretenders must die.” Ridiculous claim made, the human shoved his hand against his mouth. In but a second, he began to bubble, literally. Froth poured from his mouth and dribbled down his chin, and his eyes bulged, the veins in them popping a moment before the eyeballs themselves exploded.

Remiel kept his lips clamped and wiped an arm across his face before saying, “I need a drink.”

Actually, he’d needed a drink from the first moment he stepped into Zahra’s office and saw Anastasia standing by Samael’s side. Their presence here could only be a trap.

The good news? Neither looked pleased.

The bad news? The Silver matriarch probably wouldn’t appreciate the blood on her white marble. The stains proved almost impossible to remove.

Remiel rubbed his hands together. “To what do I owe the displeasure of this visit? Don’t tell me. Samael is here to kneel to the rightful king and beg my brotherly forgiveness, and you’ve decided to set yourself on fire in atonement for your existence.”

“I came here looking for Sue-Ellen. I didn’t know she would be coming.” Samael glared at Anastasia.

“That juvenile attitude is why you can’t be king,” sniffed the priestess. “Speaking of whom, you”—she jabbed a red-manicured finger at Remiel—“have a promise to keep.”

Zahra, also present and keeping a watchful eye and ear, asked, “What promise?”

Yolanda, wearing glasses perched on the tip of her nose, raised her head from a laptop to add, “Keep in mind, any promise verbally made under a certain age is not legally binding.”

Anastasia looked much too pleased. “The king is betrothed. As his guardian, I arranged it. Nothing illegal about it.”

“I didn’t agree, and it’s just not happening.” Remiel shrugged. “Sorry you came all this way. Do let the door hit you on the way out.”

“No matter your opinion of me, you cannot shirk your duty.”

“I’m not shirking my duty. As a matter of fact, I took care of the begetting of the heir part only moments ago.” He made sure to grin at his brother.

Samael’s peeved expression said he caught the implication.

So did Anastasia. “A pity you wasted your seed, but now that you’ve gotten the girl out of your system, you can do what’s right for the Sept.”

“You mean what’s right for your Sept,” Zahra objected.

The Crimsons’ idea of right for the Sept and the Silvers’ one, while similar—marry within the family—had one major flaw.

Remiel was already claimed.

He came back to the moment and the futile carnage. Why attack? Surely they’d known they couldn’t win.

Wiping his hands, Samael, who, like his brother, had never bothered to change shape, moved closer. “Is it me, or do these attacking humans seem to have an element of crazy to them?”

“You mean more than usual?”

“Humans don’t usually commit suicide like that. Not without a cause.”

“No, they don’t.” The question of why they attacked remained unclear.

“Do the humans wish to start a war with us?” Samael spoke mostly to Remiel. Any feud between them seemed suddenly paused or forgotten as a graver danger faced them.

If his brother thought he could be a big man, then Remiel would show him he could be bigger. “A handful of misguided humans do not make for a conspiracy on a global level.”

“It also doesn’t mean the humans are entirely behind it. The dragons have many enemies,” Yolanda noted, having approached their little group, along with the Silver matriarch, who’d managed to procure a robe to cover herself.

“Who could it be?” Zahra asked. “We’ve no quarrels with any other groups.”

“Does it matter?” Anastasia seethed as she stalked toward them, the gore coating her making parts of her red ensemble darker in spots. “These human infidels attacked us.”

“And we took care of it.” Samael gestured. The cleanup had already begun.

“We need to do more than that. They will try again.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Zahra asked. Despite her lack of a silver suit, the robe did not deter from her sneer at all. “We can’t exactly go to war with the humans. There are billions to our thousands.”

“Only a fraction would actually fight,” Remiel observed, bending down to look at the body. He lifted a hand. “Anyone recognize this symbol he’s wearing?” He lifted the medallion that had fallen from the neck of his shirt. The symbol on it nagged with familiarity.

“Whatever club they belong to won’t exist for long. Its days are numbered. We can’t have outsiders attacking the potential king,” Zahra declared.

“Kings,” Samael amended. “There are two of us.”

“Three if you count the freak Parker made.” Anastasia just couldn’t help herself.

“Don’t you mean four?” Deka, who kept popping up, added to the conversation.

“Who’s the fourth?” Anastasia asked.

But Remiel suddenly could guess. Because if one Mercer had managed to make the flip to partial Gold, then…

He frowned at Deka. “Weren’t you supposed to be guarding Sue-Ellen?”

“I was, but then she insisted we check things out, and well, she does technically outrank me.”

“Where is she? She wasn’t harmed in the attack?”

“Harmed?” Deka snorted. “Not even close. Brand and Aimi whisked her off while you guys were playing.”

“Where has he taken her?” Samael asked, and Remiel whirled on him.

“Why do you want to know? I already told you she’s mine.”

“For the moment. How long do you think a widow needs to grieve?”

“Are you threatening me?” Remiel stood tall next to Samael. But they were both the same height. Almost the same weight. It would be an epic battle.

Remiel cracked his knuckles. He’d waited a long time for this moment. “What do you say, brother? Shall we finish this once and for all?”

“Boys! Enough.” The rebuke rang with command, and the boys turned to look at Zahra. Their matching expressions conveyed a clear “Excuse me?”

“While your posturing is most entertaining, you are wasting your time and energy fighting each other when we have much graver problems to handle.”

“I don’t know about you, but since Sue-Ellen’s safe with her big bro for the moment, then I’ve got time to teach my little brother here a lesson.”

Fingers lifted and beckoned. “My calendar is also pretty clear,” Samael said.

The fists lifted again, and matching grins, fierce ones, split their lips as they dropped into a stance.

“Idiots. You’re idiots. Don’t you see? Someone came after you both and didn’t care how public they were about it. This is more important than any feud.”

Anastasia grimaced. “I have to agree with the old hag. But not for the same reason. These humans are obviously part of a cult that doesn’t mind killing its members. They are but minor irritants, easily subdued. What you should worry about is the fact that Brandon took the girl. Don’t you see what this means?”

“He loves his sister?”

“He wants to keep her safe?”

“No!” Anastasia practically screeched. “Think, you idiots. Why would Brandon take the mate of a Golden king?”

“Possible king,” Samael interjected.

Remiel got the answer first, although the mental leap took a bit because of the temerity of the thought. “You think Brandon’s going to attempt to take my throne and use Sue-Ellen as a bargaining chip with the Septs.”

Oh, hell no. The throne and angel were his, and his alone.

Time to get her back.

He wasn’t the only one who got that idea. One moment, Samael stood with them; the next, he’d vanished.

“That bastard.” Remiel cast out his senses and caught a hint of his brother’s aura as he fled under a guise of invisibility.

Remiel’s plan to tackle Samael was stopped by a hand on his arm.

Remiel stared at the fine-skinned fingers that dared halt him.

Zahra didn’t remove them, nor did she apologize for her temerity. “Let the boy go. We know where he flees, and Brandon won’t let him near the girl.”

“Samael won’t be a problem once I get my claws around his neck.”

“You can’t kill him.” It wasn’t Anastasia but Zahra that spoke. “The Golds are too few and precious to waste over petty squabbles.”

“Petty? He kept me in a pit.”

“And?” Zahra eyed him. “You don’t seem as if you’ve suffered.”

“Pretty princess,” Deka coughed into a fist.

“He is challenging my right to rule.”

“Are you not strong enough to withstand it?”

“I am.” His chest puffed out. “But I shouldn’t have to constantly defend. Not when there’s an easier solution.”

“What if I had something better than death?”

As Remiel listened to the Silver matriarch’s plan, he grinned. Then laughed.

Once he agreed to it, he left to find his angel.

My queen.