Page 32 of The Omega Thief

“Good boy,” she murmured and squeezed his hand. Attiker tried to hide his surprise, but she must have noticed because she smirked. “Don’t worry. Raz’mar has put a stop to nearly all my fun.”

Attiker had no idea what to say to that, so he shut his mouth and decided to keep it closed. Carter had been dismissed, and the palace guards were at her chamber doors, although he supposed this was some sort of receiving room.

She looked at him square in the eye. “I’m sure you’re fatigued, so I won’t keep you. I simply want to know what your intentions are for my grandson. Now you have swayed him to the idea he can keep you as a pet.”

“A pet?” Attiker spluttered out, not entirely sure he’d heard correctly.

She arched an eyebrow. “Come, Attiker Lynch, you are supposedly one of the most sought-after seekers in Cadmeera. You wouldn’t have gained that position without at least a reasonable grasp of the language your betters use.”

Attiker eyed the queen, all humor vanishing. He could excuse her protectiveness over Raz. She was his only living relative, and Attiker could best be described as a tradesman, and then only if you were feeling generous, which she obviously wasn’t. But whatever or whoever she was, still didn’t give her the right to speak to him that way when none of this had been his choice.

He could have also told her she had nothing to worry about as he clearly didn’t have a wolf anymore, and as soon as the prince got over his infatuation, Attiker would be out on his ear.

He took a breath in and glanced down at the cat. “Did you know that the Neerals were all originally wild animals, at least half the size again, as they are now? But that your namesake, the first Queen Constance, liked their orange striped coat so much she sent out hunters to capture one, and all her friends who could afford to pay for a hunter copied her example until the only breeding pairs left were in captivity?”

Attiker bent down and stroked the cat but carried on as if they were having a normal conversation.

“Of course, the first thing they had to do was remove the Neeral’s claws so they could control them, which worked exceedingly well, and for at least fifty years, owning a Neeral was a mark of luxury and status. Except no one realized that the wild Neeral’s greatest food source was the gray rat. I’m sure you also know that gray rats are carriers of the plague that causes what’s usually referred to as the ‘sleeping death.’ One bite can strip the victim of all muscle control within days. They lay immovable until, eventually, their heart and lungs also seize. There’s no known cure, and it affects both regular folk and shifters. No one realized until the gray rat population was out of control that they had a serious problem, but by then, it was too late. And so, four hundred years ago, because some rich woman decided she should take something as a pet that didn’t belong to her, she sentenced half of Cadmeera, including her youngest daughter, to an agonizing death.”

Attiker forced himself to stay still for a moment, expecting to feel a sword at his back, but as he looked up, to his astonishment, it seemed the queen was eyeing him with a mixture of curiosity and what he hoped was respect.

“But did you know,” she countered, “that a seeker called Jib Korban spent four years looking for and managed to find what was considered to be the last remaining wild nest of Neerals? And with great care, managed to cultivate the wild population back to a reasonable level and therefore reduce the threat? That he also proved that the blood of a wild Neeral can save a victim if one can be caught in time to do so?”

Attiker did, but he was shocked she did. He didn’t think royalty concerned themselves with others’ suffering overmuch. The queen glanced at one of the pages standing at the edge of her room. “I have a cask of thefifty-twoburgundy in my private cellar. You will have to find Pinkerton to get the key. Bring two glasses and a flagon, and see if Cook has made any elderberry scones.” She glanced at Attiker and smirked. “I am so glad you’re here. It’s about time the palace nitwits got a dressing down. You may call me Grandmother.” She clapped delightedly and patted the other chair the page had brought. “Now, do sit down and tell me how I would go about learning how to pick someone’s pockets.”

And Attiker, knowing he’d met a worthy opponent, spent the next hour getting mildly tipsy and teaching a queen how to pick the pockets of the various pages around the room. He wasn’t sure how much fun the pages had, but the queen certainly had a good time.

“Whatareyoudoing,my queen?”

Attiker looked up at the new voice and saw a soldier, resplendent in a very fancy-looking uniform, trimmed and pressed to within an inch of its life. Possibly a captain or a general, he hazarded, squinting at the row of medals on his chest, and wondering why they were a little blurry.

“Bunny.” Grandmother clapped her hands in delight. “Do let me show you what Attiker has been teaching me.” Which actually had the effect of sobering Attiker up, especially when the general-type man sent Attiker a thunderous look.

The man stepped close and went down on one knee before the queen and lifted her hand to his lips. “So long as you were diverted,” he said, in Attiker’s opinion, way too patronizingly.

But Grandmother smiled. “Let me introduce my new grandson, Attiker Lynch. We have been having a most enlightening discussion about—”

“Sir,” Attiker stood, not sure who this man was, but he was obviously someone who had a personal relationship with the queen, and Attiker was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to know about Her Highness’s newly discovered gift for thievery. But really, she’d been an amazingly quick study.

“Viscount Harcourt, at your service.”

Attiker could tell even the slight inclination of his head was forced, and for a moment, he was really tempted to test exactly what being Raz’s bonded would get him, but Attiker liked the old lady, so he kept quiet.

Then the doors opened, and Raz came striding in. He sent Attiker a heated look, then an indulgent one to his grandmother. He stepped up, took both her hands, and kissed her cheek. “I hear you’ve been developing some nefarious ways.”

Her Highness grinned, but at that exact moment, the viscount stepped in close and put a hand on her shoulder, a claiming one, and just as fast, the atmosphere changed in the room. The queen turned and took both of Attiker’s hands in hers. It would take some getting used to, but he’d never had a grandmother, and he liked this one. “We must meet for tea in the morning,” she said, kissed Attiker’s cheek, turned, and dismissed her pages, the viscount falling in beside her obediently.

Attiker glanced at Raz, but his gaze was on his grandmother until they had all left the receiving room. “What is it?” Was he angry at Attiker for being in here? Not that he’d been given a lot of choice.

“I don’t like that man,” Raz said quietly.

Attiker leaned in. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he likes me.”

Raz’s lips tilted up in an approximation of a smile. “Grandmother is a force of nature. My grandfather died nearly fifteen years ago, and she took a second bonded to save her wolf. The Duke of Shemar was originally her assistant, to whom she granted a title, and that came with a modest house. They used to summer there together every year, but two seasons ago, she came back alone, and Viscount Harcourt became her security advisor. A position never required before. Shemar returned eventually, and I thought all was well, but that was…”

“Proprietary?” Attiker suggested. In Attiker’s opinion, the man was advising her on more than security, but that was her business and definitely not his. “Why don’t you like him?”

“Because he’s changed her. Grandmother doesn’t have a submissive bone in her body, but around him, she acts so differently. She won’t talk to me about Shemar.”

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