He’d just taken his first sip when he received a call from his king.
Lachlain skipped the greetings. “You’ve been busy, friend.”
“What have you heard?”
“Madadh briefed me on everything he knows. I’m glad you got yourself and your men free, since your king could do fuck-all for you. Thanks to Nïx.”
“Loa told me the Valkyrie is working with the Forgotten. Strange bedfellows.”
“Nïx wants a warlock sphere to cover this planet to protect us from the Møriør.”
“Why is the Ever-Knowing One concerned about them? She can foresee their every move and direct our alliance to defeat them.”
“We’ve learned that Orion the Undoing—the Møriør’s leader—can see the weakness in anything. Any fortress, any battle plan, any warrior. Even Nïx’s own weaknesses. A type of foresight in itself,” Lachlain said. Munro pictured the king sitting by a window at Kinevane Castle, gazing out at the Highlands with a thoughtful look on his face.
“The Ever-Knowing’s alliance versus the Undoing’s should be an epic matchup,” Munro said. “But this pits our clan against Darach Lyka. Do we no’ owe our loyalty to the alpha of us all?” Loyalty was the Lykae way.
“No’ while he’s following the lead of someone else. If the Møriør want to subjugate us, we’ll have to fight. Primordial alpha or no.”
“Agreed,” Munro said, but not without regret.
Lachlain had only recently escaped the Vampire Horde’s torture beneath the streets of Paris. They’d burned him alive for a hundred and fifty years. After so many ages of hungering for war, now Munro wanted peace—for his king, for his pack, and for himself and his new mate.
“Garreth and Lucia are out scouting for information on other Møriør members. I’ll let you know more details as they uncover them.”
“Good. I’m curious about our enemies,” Munro said. “And about my brother as well. I’ve heard Will and Chloe are solid.”
When the two of them had set off for Conall, Munro hadn’t known which scenario terrified him more: Will ruining his matehood—or healing because of it. Munro had lain awake wondering, If they make a fresh start, what will I do with myself?
It was an unworthy thought, and one that shamed him, but the truth was that he’d lived for his brother for centuries. The prospect of living for himself had daunted him—until he’d found his mate.
“Rest easy, friend, the two of them are fine. Better than,” Lachlain said. “Is this the longest you’ve ever gone without watching over him?”
“Aye.” Munro had now heard from three people he trusted that Will was good, yet he still couldn’t quite believe it. Have to see it for myself. “Do you think he’ll find Nïx?” Munro needed Will scope-locked on Jels—not the soothsayer.
“Only if she wants to be found. So what’s your plan now?”
“Turn my mate immortal.” Munro relayed the highlights of his quest, his battle of wills with Kereny over her species, and his potential new ambassador gig, finishing with, “So now we’re waiting for information and a ride to Dacia.”
Waiting. Whenever Munro had a goal, the warrior in him needed to be out fighting for it, yet he was stymied here.
“I’ll dispatch a guard detail for you two.”
“Appreciate the offer, but we’re hidden for now. A detail might draw attention to us.”
“Verra well. So you’re determined to bargain with a sorceress like Dorada?”
No’ you too. “What would you have done if your queen had been mortal?” Lachlain had found Emmaline—a Valkyrie/vampire halfling—right after escaping the Horde’s torture. The road for the two of them had been understandably rough.
“My beloved Emma? I’d kiss Dorada’s arse for the chance to sign her bollixed-up book.”
“Exactly. But first I have to find her by meeting with Lothaire. You know him?”
“Aye. The Enemy of Old is as diabolical as everyone says, but his new Bride is personable and kind, and she influences him. She seems overjoyed with immortality. Mayhap she could help your mate see the benefits.”
“Canna hurt to try.”
“Munro, your situation presents us with a unique opportunity. I need you to undertake a mission.”
Wee bit on my plate right now. Still, he said, “What’s the op?”
“The Forbearer vampires have been stalwart allies to the clan.” Their King Kristoff had saved Emma’s life, forging an unbreakable alliance between Lykae and Forbearers. “And I see a way to repay their loyalty. . . .”
As Lachlain filled him in on the details, Munro grew uneasy. He’d often done tasks like this for his king—at varying times, Munro had been a spy, an assassin, and an enforcer for the clan—but never with a mate in tow.
A mortal mate.
Yet he was ever loyal to his king and pack. “I’ll do aught I can.”
“Stay sharp in Dacia. And whatever happens, tell no lies to Lothaire. He’ll know and become even more unbearable. Good luck and call me before you leave.”
Once the line disconnected, Munro muttered, “Fuck.” An extraction mission? From one of the most guarded realms in existence?