“Which son?” Delilah asked lightly.
“Sloane,” Cornelius grumbled. “He is going to decide he cannot be betrothed to the Holt girl, I can feel it. He will think he is being...noble. Or something equally honourable.”
“You think that our son wishing to annul a betrothal to a female who has lain with humans and had been taken by Drakhyn is honourable?”
“He will think he is giving her what she wants.” Cornelius rose in anger. “I worked too hard to get that betrothal. He will not break it!”
“Surely the fact the girl is sullied breaks it? Cornelius, I do not want Sloane marrying the vile thing.” Delilah placed her fork on her plate and set it aside as she considered her husband.
“You are too delicate to understand, Delilah, but we want this match; this match needs to happen.”
“No.” Delilah picked up her needlepoint. “He will be miserable, and what will other Akrhyn males think of him? He will be a laughingstock, Cornelius. I will not have it.” She glanced at her husband and saw him purse his lips together, a habit he had when he was biting back harsh words. “That was what you were petitioning for?”
“What?” Cornelius glanced at her as he resumed his seat. “No, I am trying to get Warren and Marguerite to visit us in order that I can progress my new plan.” He glanced at his wife. “I have already successfully encouraged Carnain to rid his Elite Sentinels of Lycans. Obviously Balrack is not important; how he was selected to the Great Council, well...” Cornelius shook his head as he raised his teacup. “And the dead ones are acting strangely, I am told.”
“They are dead, Cornelius, they are bound to be strange.”
“It is more than that.” Cornelius picked up his quill again. “The Three are also absent.”
Delilah’s needle hesitated before she resumed her embroidery. “That is strange.”
“They could merely be at the site of Cord’s making.” Cornelius sat back as he studied his calligraphy. “It is something to behold, they say.”
“You have not been?”
“No, he does not need my approval.” Cornelius scowled again. “Although why he did not eliminate the Lycan with him...”
“He does not feel the way we do, not yet.” Delilah placed her needlepoint in her lap as she thought about her oldest son. “Olezka runs strong in him.”
Cornelius grunted in acknowledgment. “Pity.”
“He will come around.” Delilah was sure that he would. Apparently, a Lycan had already threatened the Holt girl, and Cord had reacted, as had Sloane. She just needed them to be pushed more. “We need to orchestrate something against Celeste’s daughter again.”
“It amuses me how much you will not say the wordniece.” Delilah looked at him with an arched eyebrow. Cornelius smiled at her obvious distaste. “I adored my sister, wife.”
“I know, husband. But she brought shame and dishonour to your House.OurHouse.”
“Salem.” Cornelius scowled again at the thought of the Principal Elder. “I will not lose Zahra Holt,” he told his wife. “Sloane can have a mistress; he need not lie with her other than to get her with child.”
“I do not like it,” Delilah repeated firmly.
“You will learn to.” Cornelius poured them both more tea. “We need another gathering,” he mused more to himself than his wife. “Smaller and less prone to attack.”
“You should suggest a small party then,” Delilah said as she sipped her tea. “The Elders, the Principal, our children, some Elite Sentinels and of course, the Great Council.” Her mind was already planning the food and refreshments. “Suggest a neutral ground. A Castor divisional Headquarters perhaps?”
“The Crimson Cast are neutral.” Cornelius and Delilah shared a laugh. “Although that joke of a Prime Castor may drag his animal of a wife.”
“I always admired Garrick when I was younger, but then he took a Lycan for a wife.” Delilah shuddered delicately. “Abhorrent.”
“It is, my love. Interbreeding is an affront to the Ancients.” Cornelius frowned at the thought. “And Carnain took a Vampyre. He actually married a dead thing. He gets a seat, and I, I who have pure blood, with no mutants in my House at all or in my wife’s House, and a male married to a Made one gets a seat, and I do not!” Cornelius tossed his quill away in disgust. “It insults all Akrhyn.”
“It does,” Delilah agreed soothingly. “But you are making great strides, do not lose hope.”
“I cannot, nor can I suggest a party.” Cornelius’s lips twisted in thought. “The Drakhyn attack on the night of the ball is still too fresh.” He tapped his chin as he thought. “Rorik may be agreeable.”
“You do converse well,” Delilah encouraged. “Make sure he knows it is a small gathering but formal. Ballgowns are needed.”
“Of course, I shall contact him right away.” Cornelius beamed at his wife. “Oh, and Delilah, send a suitable dress for Tegan. That mockery she wore at the ball, I thought that dress burned long ago. I do not need to see any more of my sister’s inappropriate dresses.”