“Lady Surah.”

She almost knocked over the row of vials next to her elbow. Surah whirled around, a blistering string of curses trembling on the tip on her tongue. She stopped short, staring at the male hovering just outside the sliding glass doors to the lab.

Long hair draped over one shoulder, heavily lashed eyes demurely lowered. A lean, dancer’s body was perfectly set off by narrow pants and a silk shirt that fluttered from the air conditioner. Damn, she knew this young man…knew him…knew him….

Thin lips quirked, lashes rising. “Austin.”

Memory returned and Surah felt heat rise to her cheeks. The man from the last party she’d attended in Geza’s quarters at the palace–the man who’d tried his damnedest to pleasure her, though she hadn’t been in the mood at the time, daydreaming over Malin.

Surah cleared her throat. “Austin, you can’t be back here. It’s for personnel only.”

Austin blinked, suddenly looking flustered. He lifted a hand, taking a quick step back. “Oh, I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t realize, no one stopped me….”

They wouldn’t. Some of her grads were so used to the comings and goings of the higher-ranked gargoyle nobles that they’d learned to recognize the look of a gargoyle in human form and almost overlooked them now. Probably assuming Surah would take care of it.

Surah jotted down a quick note and left the lab, gesturing for Austin to follow her. Rather than her office, Surah took him to the employee break room. There was a table in a corner that was empty–if they kept their voices down, the humans wouldn’t hear.

“Sit,” she said, and the male obeyed. “Why are you here?”

“Nikolau sent me.”

Surah didn’t move. “Why?”

Austin’s head tilted. He placed his hand on the table. “Do you know of the efforts by certain nobles in the assembly to place Prince Malin onto the throne?”

She immediately withdrew, rising to her feet. Austin grabbed Surah's wrist, holding her with surprising strength for one so…delicate looking.

“Please, just listen to me.”

“Let go,” Surah said, expression hardening. “Whatever your politics are–I want nothing to do with it.”

Austin looked up at her, gaze frank. “Do you think you’ll be able to stay neutral?”

Surah frowned. The sentiment almost exactly echoed words Lavinia Mogren, Councilor to Geza, had spoken weeks ago when trying to convince Surah to stop the production of Malin’s serum. “Whose side did you say you’re on?”

“I’m on the side of the rightful heir of the territory. Your lover.”

“Why were you sent?”

A faint tinge of pink graced Austin’s cheeks. “I asked. Some of the others can be a bit rude. I’m nicer.”

Ignorance was dangerous. Surah sat down slowly, realizing she’d do herself and Malin no favors if she deliberately kept herself in the dark regarding the current court politics.

“I’m listening.”

“Prince Geza was offered a bride; he refused, offending her father, who is a power in his own right.”

Surah's eyes narrowed. She knew all this. “I’m pretty sure I know where this is going.”

Austin’s mouth firmed. “If Malin wed the female, he would help solidify noble support for his return to the throne.”

This was interesting. Geza, for once, must have kept his mouth shut and not told anyone of the request he’d already made to Malin and Surah. It was a little funny–both sides of the faction wanted the same thing, and she was the only one who knew it. Was there a way to leverage this information? She’d have to think about it. “I don’t want a sister wife.”

“It’s a necessity. He needs the connections, and he will need to father an heir who can shift.” Austin lowered his eyes. “Your brilliance and beauty are renown, but it isn’t certain you can produce true garlings, Princess. For Malin to take the throne, he must have an Heir.”

“Why are you coming to me with this?”

Austin smiled wryly. “We know Prince Malin won’t acquiesce unless you show you are willing to remain by his side. Unless you support the plan.”

Surah shook her head. “I don’t know what you all are smoking–but I wish I had some. Why in the world would I want that for myself, or Malin? He has a life outside of court. Wealth, reputation. What does he need the burden of the throne for?”

Austin leaned forward, long hair falling over his shoulder to brush the table. “It isn’t necessarily what you and he want or need–but what our people want and need. We need him–and you. Geza's leadership is plunging the territory into a cesspit we’ll be unable to muck out of for generations.”

“Even if I agreed with you,” Surah said, rising again, staring hard at the hand around her wrist, “you’re forgetting one thing.”

Austin withdrew. “And what is that?”

“Malin is my lover–but Geza is my brother. I love them both. I’ll walk you out.”

At the door, Austin turned to her once more. “Please don’t tell Geza I came here today–he doesn’t know I’m on the side of the rebels. I trust in your honor.”

Surah's brow rose. “You’re a spy?”

Austin looked embarrassed. “Not exactly. I’m just in a position to hear things and pass them along if pertinent.”

“And you think I won’t betray you?”

“I know you won’t.” Austin smiled. “We’ve been watching you for a long time now.”

“Wait,” Surah called when the male had walked away several feet. Austin paused, turned back. “Who’s we?”

“Kausar, Nikolau, and those with us.”

He wasn’t going to say more, and she already knew those two were behind things. Frustrated, Surah went home early, unable to concentrate enough to make much of a difference to her work. Malin was in his study. Or rather, on the balcony, staring up at the night sky.

“How do you feel tonight?” Surah asked, brushing a hand along Malin’s shoulder. She pressed a kiss to the Prince’s neck, moving alongside him.

“I’m fine, Surah.”

The edge in Malin’s tone alerted her. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Malin turned, eyes wary. “Thinking about what?”

Surah leaned on the railing, hands gripping it tightly. “Come on, Malin. I’m not stupid, and neither are you. You must have guessed I’d be approached. And if they came to me today, they must have come to you as well.”

Fire flared in dark eyes, a tinge of pearl-gray spreading across Malin’s skin. “I told Kausar to leave you out of it.”

“They can’t afford to leave me out of it. They see me as the only complication to you falling in line with their little rebellion.”

Malin frowned at her, hand tight enough on the rail his knuckles showed white. Then he turned abruptly, striding back into the study. Surah trailed after him, watching as the gargoyle approached the bar, perused the racks of wine and choose a vintage, pouring two glasses.

“Wow, he must have really stressed you out.” Malin wasn’t really one to drink–that was Surah's weakness. She suspected he kept a selection from force of habit, because it was expected. Malin shoved a glass at her with a sideways glare as Surah walked over and slid onto a stool. Sipping on the vintage, she studied her lover. “Well?”

Malin downed the contents of his glass, turned away. “Don’t you want a child, Surah?”

Surah stilled, heart twinging in sympathy from the note in Malin’s voice. “This isn’t the first time you’ve mentioned it, but…I didn’t realize it was that important to you.”

“I never thought I would have a chance for my own family.” The Prince still didn’t turn around, shoulders still. “The years when Geza was a child—”

“And me?” Surah smiled wryly.

“And you,” he acknowledged. “They were some of the happiest in my life.” Malin turned back around. “I…want that feeling back. But I always knew that I wouldn’t do it if I couldn’t have you at my side.”

Surah took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t put your life, your happiness, on hold for any person, Malin.”

The gargoyle’s crooked smile charmed, and saddened, Surah. “The heart and the head don’t always follow the same master. But Surah…as much as I want a child, I also don’t want to pass on my defective gene.”

“It’s a risk, but one the Ioveanu line has survived—and I’m only a few steps away from a treatment. Are you saying you want me to prevent a pregnancy?”

His jaw tightened. “I–don’t know.”

“You need to know, Malin. I’m not on anything. I don’t want to get pregnant if I’ll be on my own.”

“You will never be on your own.”

She smiled, bitter. “I get it. I’m good enough for you because you don’t really believe I’ll ever cure you. So it doesn’t matter if you mate me because you will be trapped in human form anyway. But you don’t want to embarrass yourself with shiftless children.”

He stared at her, face turning white. Fire flared in his eyes. “If you were anyone else, you would pay for that insult.”

Tension stretched between them. “What do you want me to think, then, Malin? Be very clear.”

“Damn you, Surah. Is that what you really think of my character?”

“What I think,” she replied slowly, “is that you are an Ioveanu Prince. And I am under no illusions what that means as far as your mindset goes.”

He said nothing. Surah gave him time to think, rising to pour herself more wine. Malin approached, taking the bottle from her. “That’s enough of that,” he said. “If you aren’t on birth control, you shouldn’t be drinking. And you shouldn’t be drinking anyway, since you have a weakness for it.”

She said nothing, staring at him until he sighed. “I will love our children if we have them, whether they can shift or not. Whether they are human or garling. No, my love, I don’t want you to do anything to prevent a pregnancy. If we are meant to have a child, let it be.”

Surah let out a breath. “Fine. But what about Ludargo’s daughter?”

Malin sighed, looking down at the glass in his hand. “I don’t want to touch another person, Surah. My refusal could be the spark that finally fans the flames.”

She knew it, and stared at a wall, throat dry. “I don’t want Geza overthrown–he needs time to mature into his role. I also don’t want you with another female, and I don’t want a war.” She laughed, bitter. “I don’t see how those three goals are compatible, though. It seems like overkill to depose our own brother so we can have our own baby.”

Malin pinned her with a steely look. “I’m not overthrowing Geza because I want a child with you. I’m overthrowing him—”

“Whoa, wait a minute.” Surah got to his feet. “You act like the decision’s been made.”

“And without even consulting me first,” a voice said from the study entrance. “I’m hurt, brother, sister.”

Malin turned, eyes narrowed.

“Geza?” Surah walked forward a few steps. Malin grabbed her arm, pulling her to a halt. Surah looked at her lover, incredulous. “What are you doing?”

“How did you get in here?” Malin asked softly.

Geza strolled into the study, wings pulled tightly against his body. He paused in the middle of the room, turning slowly to examine his surroundings.

“My, brother, it’s almost…homey…in here. Do you let the servants in to clean at all?”

“Where are your guards, Geza?” Malin asked.

Geza settled into the dark leather couch, stretching out his legs. “Hey, bring me a bottle of that stuff you’re drinking.”

“It’s too early in the evening for you to be drinking,” Surah said. “You should be resting.”

“Which is how I evaded my guards,” Geza replied, examining his nails. “Wine? Don’t be a poor host.”

“Geza—” Malin began.

The Prince cut his brother off, brow furrowing. “Oh, come off it, Malin. I know you’re plotting treason. I don’t really care–you won’t win anyway. But I really, really want you to take my fiancée off my hands. I'll throw in a royal pardon as a wedding gift if you do–for whichever wedding you choose.”

Malin crossed his arms, a gesture he’d picked up from Surah over the last several weeks. Surah sighed, and went to pour her younger brother one glass of wine, handing it to him under Malin’s suspicious gaze. Geza grimaced when he looked at the half-full glass.

“Really, Surah? God, I’m tired of everyone mothering me.”

Surah took the deep armchair across from him. “Maybe if you grew up a bit, we wouldn’t all feel the need to mother you.”

“Do you understand why half your nobles are begging me to depose you?” Malin asked. “Are you even taking this seriously? You shouldn’t have come here, Geza.”

The younger male’s eyes rose to meet Malin's. “And why not? My older brother would never betray me–at least not without a fair warning. You haven’t given me fair warning, so why shouldn’t I come here?”

Malin sighed, began to pace. “I blame myself, mostly, for how you’ve turned out.”

Geza swished the wine in his glass, eyelids lowering. “Am I such a disappointment, then?”

“You don’t apply yourself,” Surah said. “You spend too much time wenching and drinking and not enough time working.”

The Prince snorted. “I don’t spend nearly enough time wenching and drinking. Do you know this is the first time in my life no one can tell me what to do?”

“That’s naive,” Malin replied, stiffly.

“Don’t be such a fucking martyr, Malin,” Geza snapped. “Everyone already feels sorry that you pulled the short end of the genetic stick–you don’t have to milk it for all it’s worth.”

“I didn’t approach the rebels to take the throne–they came to me.”

Geza rose, setting the glass down with a click. His expression hardened. “And you should have told them, unequivocally, no–instead you’re entertaining them, giving them notions that you’ll actually go through with it. So I’m here to ask you, brother, are you going to go through with it? Are you going to try and kill me and take my throne?”

Silence descended. Surah watched her mate and her brother, wanting the answer to the question as much as Geza.

“It's not that simple,” Malin said finally.

Geza snarled, wings rustling. “That pussy non-answer tells me all I need to know. I’ll meet you on the battle court, Malin.”