Page 17 of Blood Singer

I could hear the hope in his voice, the desperate need for this to work. And I hated what I was about to say.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "But the Alliance doesn't allow visitation to Earth any longer. Not from any species, not for any reason. After..." I trailed off, not sure how to explain the complicated history that had led to Earth's isolation. "Earth and its people have become a protectorate of the Alliance."

Kavan went very still. "What do you mean, the Alliance doesn't allow visitation?"

"Most of Earth's population still doesn't know others exist in the universe." I kept my voice gentle. "A century ago, when the wormhole reopened and made travel to Earth easier, human trafficking became an epidemic. The Alliance made Earth a protectorate and restricted all contact. No regular visitation. It protects them."

"That's completely unacceptable."

The voice came from the back of the room, and I jumped. A male stood in the doorway, tall and muscular like all the Drakhoni I'd seen, but with long black hair instead of white and eyes that glowed a deep, unsettling crimson rather than gold. He was handsome in a dangerous way, with sharp features and a predatory grace that made every instinct I had whisper caution.

"Rhucard." Kavan's voice was tight with tension. "I didn't expect you to accept my invitation."

"Of course I accepted." Rhucard strode into the room with the confidence of someone who owned the place. "When the king invites you to dinner to discuss the future of our species, you don't decline." His red eyes swept over the table, landing on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. "And you must be the lovely Alliance diplomat I've heard so much about."

Chapter 6

Kavan

Rhucard's voice filled the dining hall, and every muscle in my body went rigid.

I had sent the invitation a week ago, a formality required by protocol when discussing matters that affected Drakhoni territories. The northern wastes fell under his jurisdiction, which gave him the right to be informed about Alliance negotiations. He was also technically my cousin, though shared blood had never made us friends. He preferred the Frostpeak mountains and the company of warriors who shared his disdain for Alliance politics. The fact that he had traveled all the way to Argia meant he was either genuinely concerned about our species' survival or here to cause trouble.

I knew it was probably both.

"Rhucard." I kept my voice carefully neutral even as irritation crawled up my spine. "I didn't expect you to accept my invitation."

"Of course I accepted." He strode into the room with that swagger he had perfected over the centuries, all confidence and barely contained aggression. His black hair hung loose around his shoulders, and his red eyes, a trait unique to the northern bloodlines, swept across the table with predatory interest.

His gaze landed on Leila.

His nostrils flared.

The sight of him pulling her scent into his lungs made something violent snap behind my ribs. A red surge of heat flooded my veins, and for a split second, I wanted nothing more than to vault across the table and tear his throat out with my bare hands. Instead, I set down my goblet. It was a precise, quiet movement because the alternative was crushing the silver in my fist. A dark, suffocating pressure seized my chest. I kept my palms flat against the wood and locked my attention onto Rhucard, tracking every twitch of his mouth the way I would study an enemy in the arena.

He was interested, and he was doing it deliberately to test me.

I tried to force the anger back into cold suspicion. I told myself Leila was an Alliance pawn, a weapon engineered to smell like the dead mate who had ruined me, and that getting possessive over her was pure madness. But then the soft, warm scent of her drifted across the table, carrying traces of summer rain and sweet wildflowers, and the dragon under my skin clawed to protect her.

"And you must be the lovely Alliance diplomat I've heard so much about." Rhucard's voice dropped into that smooth, charming register he used when he wanted something. Or someone.

Leila's posture shifted. Her shoulders squared and her chin lifted slightly, showing the wariness of a female who recognized dangerous territory. I watched the golden torchlight catch the curve of her throat above that green silk gown. I tried to tell myself her poise was just Asad Intelligence conditioning, a practiced mask meant to disarm dangerous males, but the stubborn fire in her green eyes felt entirely real, and that made her impossible to ignore.

"Leila Hunter," she said, her voice steady despite everything. "I'm here representing the Alliance Prime and the Alliance Council."

"A human diplomat." Rhucard moved closer to the table. "How progressive of the Alliance. Though I suppose it makes sense, given that we're discussing access to Earth." He pulled out the chair directly across from Leila and dropped into it with casual grace. "Tell me, Lady Hunter, are all human females as beautiful as you?"

The urge to step between them and snap his neck was so fierce that my breath locked in my chest. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Rhucard leads the northern territories. He oversees the mountain clans and ensures they remain compliant with Alliance law."

It was a blatant deflection, not an answer to his question. Rhucard noticed immediately, and his smile sharpened at the corners.

"Such a diplomatic way of saying I keep the warriors from doing what they do best, taking what they want."

"What you want," Sanyra said coolly from her seat, "is irrelevant when it violates Alliance treaties."

"Ah, but that's the question, isn't it?" Rhucard leaned back in his chair, his red eyes never leaving Leila's face. "Are we truly better off bound by Alliance restrictions? Our people are dying out. We birth one female for every hundred males. Without compatible mates, we'll be extinct within a few centuries. And yet the Alliance tells us we can't visit the one planet where our most compatible species lives."

I watched Leila's mind working. She did not shrink from the heat in his crimson gaze. She catalogued the threat, adjusted her posture, and shifted into a calm, measured tone. I wanted to stay angry at her, wanted to see her composure as nothing more than calculated deception designed to wrap Drakhone around the Prime's little finger. But the steady rise and fall of her chest and the slight, determined set of her mouth pulled at me anyway.