Malin knew something was bothering his doctor. Surah wasn’t necessarily a chatty woman, but she generally wasn’t this quiet, or broody. Darkness lurked in the back of her eyes when she glanced at Malin over the dinner table. They’d taken to eating on the balcony outside their bedroom suite, overlooking gardens in the back of the house rather than in the dining room or study. From this vantage, the view of the setting sun was beautiful. The Prince couldn’t take it any longer and set aside his fork.

“Surah, what's wrong?” He cut off the start of her denial. “Don't lie to me. I know something is wrong. Tell me.”

Surah fixed him with a glare, eyes dark under tousled bangs–not quite the true brown of a full-blooded gargoyle, but close. A slight curl further proclaimed her half-human heritage.

“Our brother is up to mischief, is what’s wrong,” Surah replied.

Malin relaxed. Was that it? Geza was always a problem. From the time he could walk he'd driven his two older siblings mad with his scheming and pouting—and occasional flashes of protective temper or genius. Enough that Malin, even now, had some hope the young man wasn't a total waste. But Geza might be running out of time.

“What did he do this time?” Malin's eyes narrowed, instincts perking, as she gave him a long, measuring look. “Surah?”

“He wants me to convince you to take a second wife.”

Malin stared at her. “That makes no sense.” Especially since he hadn’t yet technically married his first. He’d been wanting to broach the subject of wedding plans with her, but always held back, wanting to wait for one of the few times–other than during sex–when she wasn’t tense and worried about him. He was tired of her worrying about him. He was a warrior, and had decades on her in age. She shouldn’t be worrying about him, it should be the other way around.

Surah stabbed a spear of asparagus with her fork. Malin's chef had learned to become creative with vegetables in a hurry–Surah, though not quite vegetarian, displayed a marked lack of enthusiasm for meat. Malin didn’t recall her always being like that, but then, one ate what was presented at the Prince's table without complaint–or one didn't eat. Maybe for more than one meal, if Ciodaru was so inclined.

“It makes perfect sense,” she said, then set the asparagus aside, eyeing his steak. “He gets to test your loyalty and rid himself of an unwanted bride at the same time.”

Malin frowned, cut a small piece of his meat and put it on her plate, watching as she snatched it up. “Geza knows I wouldn't wed. Since when do you eat meat?”

She sniffed, chewing. “This was just an opening salvo. A way to test the waters to see how vehement a reaction he's going to get. Geza is undisciplined and selfish–he isn't stupid. And I just have a taste for it tonight. I should do a blood workup–I might be missing some B vitamins.”

“No, he isn't stupid. So he must think he has some way to encourage compliance. Take a multivitamin, Surah.” His voice deepened. “Maybe I should let you rest tonight.”

Surah blushed, avoiding his eyes, and stood. “I need a drink.”

Malin rose, tossing aside his napkin, rounding the small table to take her shoulders in his hands. “Then we'll have a drink, a shower, and we'll retire for the evening.”

“You're a gargoyle; you don't want to go to bed in the middle of the night.”

“No, but like you, I've learned to keep a human sleep cycle. You've been working hard, rest tonight.”

Surah tugged her hair. “I should really spend a few more hours going through—”

“Please.”

She sighed. “All right. Rest. Tonight.”

* * *

Surah was gone by the time Malin awoke the next morning. Well, by the time Malin came back from his study. He'd spent the majority of the evening holding his sleeping mate before leaving in the early hours of morning to continue his own work. The pills he took to control his seizures, along with the serum to delay the degeneration of his body and control pain, combined to make for some sleepless nights. One of the many side effects that disturbed Surah–so Malin didn’t talk about it. He knew the doctor had enough on her mind.

Malin dressed, taking his mug of black coffee on the balcony where they'd eaten the previous night. He glanced up as a shadow of wings flew into the path of the sun. A rush of wind and Nikolau coasted to the ground in front of the house, lifting a hand to greet Malin. Malin nodded, moving back inside to finish dressing so by the time his servant knocked on his door, Malin was already opening it.

“I know. He's in the lower level parlor?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

The lower level parlor was reserved for unexpected guests, empty but for minimal furniture and a few books on a shelf for entertainment. When Malin entered, the drapes were pulled and more coffee set out on the table in front of Nikolau, who sprawled on the low-backed couch designed for wings, sipping from a dainty mug.

His friend rose when Malin entered, the Prince waving him back to his seat.

“Nikolau. It's late.”

He grunted. “Awful hour of the day–so I figured you'd be up.” It was the kind of backhanded insult Malin had learned to ignore on the training field. Nikolau, unlike some, wasn’t one to raise his voice. He preferred to deliver his condemnations in a mild tone that cut all the more for its lack of anger.

“You didn’t come to chat.”

“No.” Nikolau drained his coffee, set the mug down on the table. “Have you thought about what Kausar asked?”

Malin stared at him, impassive. “Without some significant pretext, I find myself strangely unwilling to depose the brother I helped raise.”

“No one said it would be easy. You’re loyal, and level-headed.” Nikolau met his eyes directly, then smirked. “Have you heard Geza pissed off Prince Ludargo Cernea?”

Malin frowned. “That would be stupid, considering the resources his lands sit on in Alaska. And the warriors he can transport. A war with him would be destabilizing, at best.”

“Well, Prince Geza insulted his daughter and refused to marry her in front of the entire Council.”

It took a moment for that particular idiocy to sink in; when it did, Malin closed his eyes, stifling a sigh. It had been a while since he'd had a talk with the boy–maybe now was the time, before he really was pushed into taking Geza's throne.

“Why?” But considering his conversation with Surah, none of this was really a surprise. Geza must have approached his sister after he’d screwed up, and was looking for a fast way to clean up his mess.

Nikolau shrugged. “There is no acceptable ‘why.’” He paused. “Her father can bring much needed revenue and influence to the territory. I spoke with him–he won't give Sililu to Geza, but he'll give her to you, and back you in taking the throne.”

Anger built slowly. It seemed like his friend was busy with Kausar, working on Malin's behalf—without bothering to consult him first.

“I will speak with my brother. I will not wed the girl.”

“You need heirs,” Nikolau replied, bluntly. “Surah’s chances of giving you garlings aren’t good, and we don’t need more humans in the bloodlines.”

Malin's heart clenched as he banished the image of a little boy with wide eyes, rather than long, and brown hair with a slight curl. Maybe a daughter as well, if he was blessed. Daughters were precious.

“They would be a quarter human. And I don’t think I care about whether or not they can shift. Besides, Surah would never allow it.” Malin knew Surah, knew a temper lurked behind the medical calm–she might pretend to consider the idea of a sister wife for Geza’s sake, fooling even herself, but Malin knew better. And he wouldn’t risk their budding relationship so soon with the stress of even a purely political marriage.

Nikolau considered him. “Maybe we should sit down and have a talk with her–she’s practical and she knows her duty as an Ioveanu princess. She’d understand even better than you why this is necessary.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t. I already told you to leave Surah out of your politics.”

Nikolau grimaced. “Not that simple.”

* * *

Lana was programmed to monitor personnel for signs of illness.

“Should I alert medical authorities?” the computer asked.

Surah rose unsteadily from her crouch over the waste basket in her office, and sat at her desk, drawing a small bottle of water from the mini-fridge underneath. She rinsed her mouth, spat it out in the waste basket. Considered calling maintenance to deal with the mess, but that would just be rude.

“No, Lana. It’s just some nausea.” Shouldn’t have eaten that damn steak. Her body didn’t process animal proteins well, but she’d been having cravings and, after running a brief mental analysis of her shitty diet in the last several weeks, no wonder. She’d been living on Geza’s booze, Malin’s wine and their afternoon lunch breaks. Since moving in with Malin she’d begun to eat real food again–since she didn’t have to cook it–but she obviously hadn’t restored depleted nutrients.

Surah sighed. “Lana, order an organic liquid multivitamin.” She rattled off a list of specifications, including one day shipping. She needed to keep her health up. Last thing she needed right now was to get sick.