"Great." He gave Vanda a wry smile. "Just what I needed."
She smiled back. "You're my hero, too."
He leaned over and kissed her brow. "I'll be back soon." He strode out the front door.
Brynley refilled her coffee cup, then moved to the kitchen table and sat across from Vanda. "Alone at last. We need to talk."
Well, you'll have to make it quick," Vanda said. "In about five minutes I'll be falling into my death-sleep."
Brynley nodded. "This battle Phil talked about, how bad will it be?"
Vanda was surprised. She'd expected Phil's sister to tell her to get lost. "We're at war. The Malcontents want to kill us."
"I've heard that vampires have the power of mind control. Is Phil under their influence, or does he really want to do this?"
Vanda tamped down her growing irritation. "Everyone I know in the Vampire World has the utmost respect and fondness for Phil. They would never control him. They consider him family."
"He has family here."
"His family here banished him."
Brynley took a sip of coffee. "Did he tell you about himself?"
"He told me how your ancestors became werewolves."
"Ancient history." Brynley waved a dismissive hand. "Did he tell you about his life here?"
Vanda was tempted to ask, What life? but she was too curious to brush Brynley off. "Is he really a prince?"
Brynley nodded. "A direct line from the old Welsh princes. Dad came from Wales about a hundred and eighty years ago and started his first ranch in Montana. Some of the clansmen followed him here. Over time the clan grew, and Dad became more and more powerful. He owns over fifty ranches now, spread over Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming. The entire western territory—that's over sixty packs—swears allegiance to him as Supreme Pack Master. No one dares disobey him."
"Except Phil."
Brynley shrugged. "It's hard for someone like Phil to submit. Dad understands that. Believe me, he'll be so proud when he finds out that Phil acquired Alpha status without the aid of a pack. It's never been done before. Phil is truly amazing."
"I have to agree with that." Vanda yawned as sleepiness tugged at her.
"And since Phil's one of the most powerful werewolves in the country, it's obvious that he has an important future with us."
Vanda rubbed her brow. "You want him to come home."
"Yes." Brynley leaned forward. "He belongs with us. Did you know he was betrothed to a werewolf princess?"
So, Princess Diana was a werewolf? An image flitted through Vanda's mind of a mangy wolf wearing a diamond tiara. "He never mentioned it."
"He was ten years old when Dad arranged his betrothal to Diana. She was two."
"How romantic."
Brynley snorted. "Diana's father is the pack master for Utah. And he owns several ranches. She's an only child, so that makes her a very powerful and wealthy heiress."
"Good for her."
Brynley's eyes narrowed. "She can give him children. The royal line would continue."
Damn. Vanda closed her eyes.
"I'm sure you're a nice person, Vanda. My brother wouldn't care for you so much if you weren't. But try to look at this with an open mind. If Phil comes back, he can be a powerful leader. If he stays with you and your kind—what sort of life would he have? He would always be an employee, at the beck and call of a vampire. What would you wish for Phiclass="underline" a life as a leader where he has wealth, power, and children? Or a life of servitude where he can't have children at all and his life is in constant danger?"
Vanda swallowed hard. The sun drew close to the horizon, dragging her into death-sleep. But she knew the heaviness in her heart wasn't caused by drowsiness.
"I've heard enough." She stood and trudged toward the trapdoor.
"Think about it, please," Brynley said. "If you love him, you should let him go."
As Phil walked back to the cabin, he noted the pink and gold streaks brightening the sky. The sun was breaking over the horizon, so Vanda would already be asleep. Dammit. He trudged up the porch steps. He would have liked to discuss this new problem with her.
He opened the door, and Brynley greeted him with a big smile.
"Well, did they cheer for you?"
"Yes." He glanced at the trapdoor. "Did Vanda make it into the cellar all right?"
"Yeah, she's fine. We had a nice talk."
He arched an eyebrow at his sister. "You didn't try to scare her away?"
Brynley snorted and strode to the ice chest. "Would you like some breakfast? I could scramble up a few dozen eggs."
"A few dozen?"
She removed two cartons from the ice chest. "I told you the boys are bottomless pits. They took down an elk last night, but I bet you they're already hungry again."
He filled up his coffee cup. "What do they do when you're not here?"
"I leave as much nonperishable food as possible. And they have hunting rifles. They manage."
Phil sipped some coffee. He'd had a good talk with the boys. There were ten of them. The youngest was thirteen. The oldest, seventeen. They'd all regarded him with a look of wonder, as if he were the answer to all their problems.
A surge of anger shot through him that his father would banish children and let them fend for themselves. "How long have they been here?"
Brynley cracked eggs into a mixing bowl. "The youngest, Gavin, came about a month ago. The oldest, Davy, came two years ago."
"He's been here for two years?"
She turned on the gas and lit a burner on the stove. "Davy was fifteen when he came here. What else could he do?"
"He could finish school, for starters. None of those boys have a high school diploma."
She banged a frying pan down onto the burner. "I can't enroll them in school. I'm not their legal guardian. I'd teach them myself, but I'm only qualified to teach elementary."
"You got your teacher certificate? I didn't think Dad was going to allow you to go to college."
She sighed. "He was worried I might get involved with a non-Lycan. But I was able to go to the local community college."
Where Dad was on the board. "Aren't you sick of him controlling every aspect of your life?"
"I'm happy with my life. And in case you didn't notice, Dad doesn't control everything I do. He has no idea I'm helping these boys."
"You're not helping them. You're enabling them."
"What?" She poured the eggs into the frying pan. "I gave them a home."
"They're doing nothing, Bryn. They should be finishing school, getting jobs."
"The only jobs around here are on ranches that are either owned by Dad or someone he controls. The boys are stuck."
"As long as they're here, yes. They need to leave."
Bryn gasped. "You would kick them out?"
"No." He drank some coffee. "I'll think of something."
"Like being their pack master?" She gave him a hopeful look. "They need a father figure. They need you."
He began to pace. The last thing he wanted was to act like a father.
He had wanted to go away to college, but his father hadn't seen any point in a higher education. Dad had every detail of his life already mapped out—the ranches he would run, the female werewolf he would marry, and his eventual ascension to the role of Supreme Pack Master in about three hundred years. All the wealth and power would be his, if he could just behave himself and do as his father said for a few centuries.
Maybe it was time for a change. Roman Draganesti had revolutionized the Vampire World when he'd invented synthetic blood. Modern Vamps, no longer shackled with the need to feed every night, were now engaging in careers in science, business, entertainment, whatever they wanted.
Maybe it was time for a similar revolution in the Lycan World. He'd broken free from the pack and all the old traditions and restraints. Maybe these boys could do it, too.