Spoonful of Sugar
*Rowan*
I managed that entire confrontation in the infirmary without telling anyone about my conversation with Alpha King Jackson from earlier. I check the clock on the wall across the room as I sit down. I’ve got plenty of time before his 7:00 PM deadline to find out why no one from Castle Darksky happened to call me about the missing girl.
I chuckle as I think of the last conversation I had with Solomon. I just love ruffling his feathers.
Picking up the phone, I dial his number. I have the upperhand here, and he knows it. So even though he sent his ambassador’s daughter in here to kill my healer, he’s not in charge of this situation–I am. And that’s going to drive him crazy.
His stupid secretary answers. “Get me Solomon. Now.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Marigold. Get him on the phone, now. There’s been another death in my castle, and he needs to hear about it.”
“Oh!” She gasps and then the line goes silent, and I know she’s put me on hold. I’m not fighting that this time. I do think it would be kind of funny if he had some secular hold music to fit his personality–like Don’t Fear the Reaper or something.
“What’s going on now?” Solomon barks into my ear. “Did you fucking kill my son?”
“Don’t you fuck around with me, Solomon. You programmed that little bitch, the ambassador’s daughter, to kill my pack healer. Now, there’s going to be hell to pay!”
“What?” He sounds genuinely confused. “I did no such thing! How dare you accuse me or her of anything of the kind. I’ve already spoken to King Jackson, and he said he’d take care of returning Abigail himself. Her poor mother is beside herself with worry.”
“Oh really? Tell me, Your Majesty,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “is her mother aware that her daughter wields a knife like a trained assassin? Much the same way your bastard wizard taught my sister to kill so she could eliminate my mother and me?”
“Why are you making up all this bullshit?” Now, he sounds accusatory. “Yes, I absolutely had Alistair train Mara to kill you and your mother. I’m fucking sorry she could only do half the job, but in my experience, that’s often the best you’re going to get out of a Moonstryker.”
His words bite, but I don’t let on like they want to make me kill him even more than I did before. “So you’re saying it’s just a coincidence that your girl went insane and pulled a blade on my healer?” Yes, I’m making all of this up, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I don’t think that really happened at all!” he shouts. “I think you’re fucking lying because you want another excuse to go to war with me.”
“Another excuse?” I can’t help the maniacal laughter that bubbles out of my throat. “You killed both of my parents, kidnapped my sister, and turned her into a killing machine, and you think I need another fucking excuse to attack you? Oh, don’t you worry your saggy fat ass about me attacking you. That’s happening. Sooner, rather than later. And with a force you can’t even begin to prepare for. Go ahead. Get all your cute little puppies in a line along the border. I see you getting them into position. Call in your friends, too. Does King Michael want a part of this? Fine. I don’t give a damn because I have something you don’t–and you know it.”
“What the fuck are you going on about?” he asks. “What could you possibly have that I can’t prepare for?”
I laugh again, and this time, I sound more like a monster than a man. “You know. You just don’t want to admit that you know.”
“If you’re talking about how my daughter has magic, I am well aware of that fact, yes. But her little tickles of light are not that dangerous. She didn’t even kill one of my warriors during her escape. My son did when he came to help you for some fucking reason I can’t understand, but she didn’t do a damn thing. All she can do is burn fur and toss bodies around. That’s not a fucking weapon, you embezzle.”
His words are chosen to both unnerve me and offend. I am neither. I would laugh again, but my throat hurts a little from the last time, and he’s not worth it. “You just go ahead and keep telling yourself that, Solomon. Now, about this girl–”
“Send her back to me, and I’ll get her home. You don’t need to keep her prisoner there. Let her come back here, and I’ll see if she truly has a spell cast on her.” He sounds like he’s trying to be reasonable now in order to persuade me to be, as if I’d ever do that.
“I can’t send her back,” I say. “Well, I guess I could. Hell, I could send her back in several different containers.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” This seems to be the question of the hour. “You said she killed your healer!”
“No, I said she attacked him. I said she was programmed to kill him. I said someone is dead–I didn’t say it was my healer, now did I? Stop sending your preprogrammed assassins into my house, you asshole!”
With that, I hang up the phone and smile wryly to myself. It rings a few times, but I ignore it. I’m sure it’s Solomon trying to call me back.
I wait until he’s done with his third attempt before I pick up the receiver and call King Michael back. Of course, I have to hold for him.
“Well? Where is the girl?” he says when he picks up the line.
“You mean the girl King Solomon programmed to kill my healer?” I ask, a growl in my voice.
“He what? You can’t be serious.” Michael sounds angry but not as doubtful as his words would convey.
“Oh, I’m deadly serious,” I say. “Tell me, Michael, do you want to be partners in a war with someone who thinks they can manipulate your citizens, your nobles, without asking you about it first?”
The phone is silent for a moment before he asks, “What do you want?” Only his tone isn’t condescending at all.
“I want you to help me give Alpha King Solomon a little taste of his own medicine.”
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