“Surah, what are you thinking?”

Surah leaned her head back on the seat. Malin had, albeit grudgingly and with loud protests that he felt fine, shifted back to human. The doctor didn’t appreciate having to argue her patient down, pointing out several salient concerns regarding Malin remaining in a form that was inherently draining. Even if the new formula appeared to be working–there was no long-term data to tell Surah that everything was, indeed, all right.

“About what, Malin?” It was a downside of loving a gargoyle–well, another person, period. At times Surah just wanted silence. Malin, more attuned to the rhythms of night, was wide-awake and talkative.

“You took a handmaid. Without consulting me.”

Surah closed her eyes. “She doesn’t want anything to do with Daru's bloodline, but she wants the political advantage.” Surah shrugged, eyes remaining closed. “It's a solution.”

“For her. But what about us? What benefit does it bring us?”

Surah turned in the seat, finding Malin's hard body and leaning against him. “Buys us time. Maybe if I have a baby and it can shift…and if not, then. You will need a garling Heir. That would settle things down a bit on both sides–if they know there is an Ioveanu in line to the throne.”

“Surah–this isn’t like inseminating a horse. She will want to raise her child. And the reason the nobles want Geza gone isn’t because he doesn’t have an Heir. It’s because they don’t trust him.”

“Then we have to help him, Malin. Not take part in a rebellion. If you tell Kausar no, be patient, then they have no one to use as their excuse to go against our brother.”

Malin sighed. “Until he did nothing to protect you from Mogren, I wanted nothing to do with the coup. But now I’m angry.”

“Well, stop thinking with your vindictive side,” she snapped.

“That’s easy for you to say, you are not a warrior. A male warrior.”

She stared at him, stony. “So you are a traitor. Ciodaru would be disappointed.”

Malin’s mouth thinned. “Don’t try to use my father against me, girl.” He sighed. “We’ll try it your way. But Geza has one more chance with me. One more. Either he eliminates the threat in his court against you, or I will drag him off his throne.”

“I won’t give you the serum.”

Silence stretched. “You don’t mean that,” he said, voice soft.

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking down, mouth tight. After a moment, arms slid around her stiff body.

“I’m sorry, my love. I never meant to put you in the middle of this. Forgive me.” He brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Geza is safe from me. About Sililu.”

She looked up, wary. “I made a promise, Malin. It’s not like this place isn’t big enough for another female.”

“Where is your jealousy?”

“I’m a scientist. I think logically. You males can be the hysterical ones.” She didn’t mention she felt sorry for the female. Malin would never agree if he thought pity was her motivation.

Malin's brow rose. “I’ll have house rules. Does she assume that under my protection she will be free to...roam?”

Surah stared at him. “She just wants the opportunity to plan her own future. She doesn’t strike me as the wild and partying type. If that's what she wanted, she would have pushed for Geza to wed her.”

“Hmm. True.”

“Besides, Ludargo is one excuse away from calling feud on our house for the insult done Sililu in Council.”

“That would be interesting.”

“It would be disruptive,” Surah snapped. “If you want a fight, go to the training yards.”

Malin sighed. “I am feeling more myself this evening.”

“It's the drugs talking.”

The Prince laughed. “Then may they never shut up.”

Surah inhaled as her mate dipped his head, seizing her lips in a rambunctious kiss. Surah had to come up for air eventually, as addictive as the silky rub of her lover's mouth was. Despite exhaustion, her body stirred, Surah leaning further into Malin as their chests pressed against each other, hard muscle encased in silk and cotton.

“Fine. I agree,” Malin said, drawing away. He grabbed Surah's face with a hand, dark eyes glinting. “But until we have our first child and it is not a garling, I will not entertain thoughts of a surrogate.”

“We can just get a baby baster off the internet. Besides….” Surah smiled. “If I can buy us nine months’ time, by then the Council will likely make Geza wed, and the point will be moot.”

“Shall we get started then?”

* * *

She’d tricked Malin and Geza into an evening meeting, forcing the males to sit and talk once they’d both arrived. Well, stand and yell, and then eventually it had devolved into a fist fight. But in the end, the brothers had hashed out their issues with each other and decided on a plan of action. Surah was satisfied–getting them to talk was always the most difficult thing, but in the end, Ioveanu’s were simply not raised to betray family. But now, two weeks later, the plan hatched at that dinner fight was now coming to fruition.

“It has to be tonight,” Geza said.

For once, no trace of self-indulgent indolence marred his face. Surah stared at the screen, blinking.

“But.…”

Surah trailed off as Geza’s jaw hardened. “Where is Malin?” he asked. “I need a warrior, not a doctor.”

It might have offended her–but Geza was right. Surah just didn’t think like her brother and lover. They lived their training–Surah had pushed it aside as soon as she reached adulthood.

“I’m here, Geza,” Malin said, closing the study door behind him.

He’d left Surah alone to see to a few last minute preparations for Sililu’s arrival. Surah supposed she should have been making arrangements–but Malin was much better at administrative things. Surah was impressed at Malin’s apparent acceptance–when this was all over she’d have to sit him down for a long talk. A Prince was raised to endure things for the sake of a political goal. But this decision seemed more personal than political, therefore there wasn’t the buffer of duty between action and emotion. Surah didn’t want Malin’s reluctance to fester and spill over into the family they were trying to build.

Geza looked over Surah's shoulder, impressive considering they were speaking through the internet. “I have a man among Lavinia's people. She's convinced we're about to wage war on each other and is waiting for an opportunity to intervene.”

Surah stared at her younger brother. “How many men does she have ready?”

Geza looked away, raising a brow. Surah heard the murmur of a male voice. Geza turned back. “Her guards, at this time, equal ours.”

“It will be tricky to make it appear we have weakened each other to the point she feels it advantageous to reveal herself.”

“You brief your males, I'll brief mine,” Geza replied shortly. “Today.”

The screen blanked. Surah let out a breath. “This is it then. Either we stop this Mogren manipulation today–or not at all.”

Kausar wasn’t happy, unconvinced Geza would make any strides to improve his rule. The conversation that took place between Kausar and the ruling Prince–well, Surah heard plenty of yelling. Kausar being the only one who could get away with yelling. Well, the only male, anyway. The weapons master managed to convince Geza that dissatisfaction was high enough to warrant an immediate change–or else.

Malin, Surah, and their males broke into the compound that morning, during the time gargoyles would be deeply asleep. They had to make the attack look as realistic as possible, so they gave the outlying guards no warning. Geza assured Malin his warriors had orders to strike to injure, not kill, but otherwise only a select few knew that this was really a 'training' exercise.

Kausar likewise briefed his men, Malin and Surah relying on their innate honor to keep them from killing combatants, who were obviously not striking to inflict death wounds.

“You're certain this isn't a trap?” Kausar hissed under his breath as they made their way on foot into the private royal quarters. They'd disabled the guards, but expected an alarm to go out any second. They reached the open-air hall that was the transition between the public areas of the compound and the private areas. Much like a mezzanine, the ceiling remained roofless, allowing for flight, and individuals could congregate on the tiled floors for conversation or entertainment. Because of its location, it was heavily patrolled and guarded.

The alarm blared, and the sudden cries of black clad soldiers as they swept in through windows designed to open from the outside–which in the wrong circumstances could be a security liability.

“I trust him,” Malin replied, voice edged. He hadn’t yet shifted to his gargoyle form, the toll of daylight showing in the harshness of his expression. Surah refused to give him any more of the serum until more tests were run. It worked a little too well and the doctor wanted to be sure she hadn't manufactured something that was...addictive.

She pushed those thoughts aside for another time. Right now, they had a show to put on.

Warriors clashed, blades only in this area of the castle. Some guards would have fire blazers depending on their duties, but in the royal family hall, only 'honorable' weapons were allowed. It made things simpler—Surah would rather dodge friendly fire from a blade than a gun.

A male engaged her with a wicked looking knife the length of Surah's forearm, rather than a sword. Surah grinned, engaging her opponent. It didn’t feel like a training exercise—and Malin had spent the last two weeks beating her into the ground every evening to bring her training back to the surface, Kausar a critical onlooker.

The rigid fury in the male’s eyes as he attacked in a series of skilled moves pushed Surah back before her training reasserted himself. She'd made a promise to herself weeks ago to maintain the new weapons conditioning—and now, she really would. Demonstrably, there would be times in her life she'd need to defend herself with skill and speed.

A feint and a blow to her face, just clipping her jaw, sent Surah sprawling in to a wall. She cursed, raising her blade as her feet struck, sweeping the male off balance.

Kausar swept in just then, disarming the guard.

“Choose,” the weapons master said coldly. “Defeat or death.”

The guard chose defeat–live another day and all that. Kausar bound his hands and knocked him in the jaw so he crumbled into an unconscious heap. Surah got to her feet, looking around. Both Geza's and Malin's males were diminished, weak appearing.

Geza and Malin were engaged in battle, circling each other with the ancient blades of their father's lineage. Malin was still in human form–no time to shift now–wary of the wingspan of his brother, but still fast and strong.

Just when Surah began to think their charade was over, a new contingent of guards winged in from the ceilings, dressed in the dark purple and gray livery of the Mogren family.

“Finally,” Ludargo said, a grim satisfaction in his tone. Surah started, turning slightly. She hadn’t heard the male approach. Another figure stood next to him, subtly covered in the shade of a pillar, a loose cloak pulled over head and shoulders. Surah turned back to watch the descending enemy, stifling a nasty smile.

When Lavinia herself appeared clad in body armor and carrying a blade, Surah suppressed a triumphant smile.

* * *

"She took the bait,” Malin said quietly, blocking a strike. Geza shifted away from him smoothly, under the auspices of monitoring the new arrivals.

“Mogren!” Geza shouted. “You've come to help me defeat this traitor!”

She landed lightly, her males surrounding her. Training cool eyes on the Princes, she spoke. “It seems as if your warriors and his are both depleted, leaving you both vulnerable.”

“Yes, so tell your soldiers to attack!” Geza said.

Lavinia smiled. “Your line has been a blemish on the face of our people. I’m about to pop the zit.”

Geza stilled, even as she jerked her head. “Careful, Mogren.”

“Kill the Princes and a new government will belong to us,” she called out.

“If that’s really the way you want it.”

Malin said nothing, allowing his younger brother to do all the posturing. It suited Geza's youth better. Malin simply moved into position to defend himself, hearing the barked order from Kausar. Suddenly every warrior who lay still on the ground—well, the warriors who were aware of the ruse–rose to their feet, surging to block the Princes from attack.

“Lavinia, halt!” Councilor Sajal called out. His stern voice filled the hall, drawing all eyes to him as he shed his coat. “My God, I didn’t want to believe in your treason.”

Her lip curled. “Treason? You want the inept rule of these genetically flawed Ioveanu’s ended as much as I do.”

“What I want has nothing to do with your dishonor,” he responded acidly. “What? Will you raise your sword against a Council member and your Prince?”

She paused, hand hovering in the air. Her males waited, unmoving until she gave a sure order for attack.

“Is this truly how your father wishes his house to fall?” The contempt in Sajal’s voice narrowed her eyes. “Very well. Then—”

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped, lowering her sword. Her soldiers stepped back. Looking at Malin and Geza, her mouth tightened. “It doesn’t mater–a trial will still give me the platform I need to gain further support.”

“Who said anything about a trial?” Geza asked, shrugging.

“Geza,” Malin said his name warningly.

“She tried to get us to kill each other. You want a nice little public spectacle of her treason?”

Malin looked at his younger brother, face impassive. “Start ruling, Geza. The time for playing games is over.”

Geza growled at him. “You’re a fine one to talk–you got out of this incredibly boring job by claiming disability. You have your entire life and youth to yourself to do with as you please.”

Malin, were he younger, would have gaped at the envy in his brother’s tone. Surah strode forward, the grip she held on her blade still far too unsure for Malin. He made a mental note to do something about that, soon.

“I’m close to perfecting the serum, Geza. You can abdicate for Malin if that’s how you really feel.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Geza sighed. “Just get that female out of my sight. Councilor Sajal?”

“My Prince?”

“I trust you have no objections to making the arrangements for her trial?”

Sajal lowered his head. “None.”

“Good.” Geza looked back at Malin, expression ironic. “Well, it looks like we avoided killing each other. This time, anyway. Give my regard to your handmaid, Surah. Let me know when one of you is knocked up. I need an Heir.”

Malin stared at Geza as he walked away, gathering his men. Kausar approached, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to think about that boy. I can hold your supporters off for a time, Malin, but if changes aren’t made….”

Surah grimaced. “Malin, you’ll just have to pull your head out of your ass and help out around here a bit more. Geza still needs you, and a show of unity and council will reassure those who are sick of Geza’s antics.”

Malin frowned. “I—”

“No, Mal. No excuses.”

Malin looked into his mate’s implacable eyes, rounded with their human blood, and realized if he wanted peace in his home, he would comply.

He sighed. “Let’s go home, and make plans.”

* * *

“She seems to be settling in,” Surah said quietly, walking up behind Malin. The gargoyle stood in his favorite spot on the balcony, overlooking the grounds.

“That’s good. She is pleased with her rooms?”

Surah smiled, wrapping her arms around Malin and leaning her head on her lover's shoulder. “I left her watching reruns of some cooking competition and eating cake. She said something about taking me shopping tomorrow.”

Malin turned in her arms, looking into her eyes when Surah finally lifted her head. “Let’s see a doctor, get you a full check up. I want to make sure the stress hasn’t take a toll on you, and a pregnancy won’t tax your health.”

Surah nodded. “That’s fine.” She hesitated.

“What is it?”

“I know there's a lot of work to be done on the serum, and the future isn’t certain. But–I would like us to wed. Quietly, just us and an officiant.”

Malin closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, they shone. “Of course I'll marry you. Tonight, if that’s what you want.”

Surah smiled. “That would piss Geza off. We’ll have to have a wedding.”

The gargoyle Prince lowered his head, kissed Surah thoroughly. “A big party. We'll let Geza and Sililu plan it. Who knows? Maybe by forcing them together he’ll grow to like her.”

Surah thought about it then laughed. “Should we set a date then?”

He squeezed her hand. “We should.”