Remembering my first meeting with Gryphon, I suddenly blushed with an appalled Oh, my God, I didn't mean to do that kind of horror. I'd forgotten about aphidy, the innate, sexually attractive force between Monère men and their Queens. Some built-in thing that was supposed to help propagate the species.
Aphidy certainly hadn't been the force I had intended to use. Didn't know I could, really. God, I was lucky that the two men had chosen to behave themselves. That they hadn't jumped on me, overcome with lust. How embarrassing that would have been. Embarrassing enough as it was. Like flashing your underwear in public. My face flamed.
The larger man, with light shiny hair the color of sunbeams, spoke from where he stood. I couldn't really blame him for not coming nearer. "Welcome, Queen Mona Lisa, Warrior Lord Amber, Warrior Lord Gryphon, members of milady's court." His vowels were rounder, his consonants softer. "I am Bernard Fruge, one of the elders here. On behalf of our community, we welcome you."
Two representatives to greet us. I was happy with that. Didn't like a big fuss. And remembering my mother, Mona Sera's little group back in New York, the community that Bernard spoke of probably numbered no more than twenty. We'd probably bump into them sooner or later.
I delicately cleared my throat, unsure of protocol. But surely you couldn't go too far wrong with simple politeness and courtesy. Right? How hard could this Queen thing be? "Thank you, Mr. Fruge."
"Bernard, please, madame."
Madame? Wasn't that French? Made me wonder if a Full Blood Monère could be French.
The little man standing beside Bernard cautiously took a small step forward. Throwing back his shoulders, which had inadvertently hunched, he puffed out his chest like a little pigeon. "Allow me to introduce myself as well. I am Horace, the former steward here. I will be staying a short while to introduce you to your many holdings before returning to my Queen, Mona Louisa."
My eyes narrowed as I felt a subtle tension gather behind me in my men. I wasn't entirely sure, but I think he just insulted me by not addressing me by my title. One thing for sure, though. He was Mona Louisa's man. Therefore, our enemy.
I returned Horace's insult by not addressing him in turn. "Is that normal protocol, Amber?"
A long silence and then Amber said, "I am… ah, not entirely sure, milady."
Oops. I figured Amber would know, being one of the oldest. One hundred and seven years old. I figured wrong.
It was Aquila who rescued me. "Yes, milady. That is a normal courtesy extended a Queen when she takes over a new territory."
"Thank you, Aquila." I didn't bother thanking Horace.
Bernard smoothly stepped into the hostile silence. "If you will kindly direct us to your luggage, madame, we can be on our way."
For the next ten minutes all the men busied themselves loading our many trunks and various baggage into the back of two large SUVs, one dark green, the other spotless white.
"Tomas, Aquila, Rosemary. If you will please go with Horace," Gryphon instructed smoothly. Silently I approved the division. It kept Thaddeus, Jamie, and Tersa—the youngest, the most vulnerable—with us.
Reluctantly, Tomas and Aquila stepped into the dark green car, which had Steward Horace at the wheel. Looking as if she smelled something foul, Rosemary took a back seat also, leaving the front passenger seat conspicuously empty. Apparently they liked Horace as much as I did.
The largest among us, Amber took the roomy front passenger seat, dipping the white SUV down with his weight, while the rest of us piled into the two back rows, which were surprisingly spacious and comfortable. Bernard, who was driving and sitting closest to Amber, became visibly nervous. More, I think, as a reaction to Amber's sheer size and presence than to the fact that he was a Warrior Lord.
A glint caught my eye and made me focus more closely on the hands gripping the steering wheel. Bernard wore a simple gold ring on his left hand, fourth finger. A wedding band? Did the Monère marry?
"Cool. These are Suburbans, aren't they?" Jamie asked with youthful enthusiasm. Unlike most Monère, he liked to use American slang that he had picked up from watching television.
"Yes," Bernard confirmed, smiling at Jamie through the rearview mirror as he pulled out of the airport. That smile alone made me like him. Not all Monère were kind to Mixed Bloods. Useless inferior mongrel mutts was more their common thought and reaction. Although that wouldn't be quite the politic view to express before one's new Mixed Blood Queen. Not unless one wanted to commit suicide, that is. Still, I liked him for that smile.
"Suburbans are what the President and all the top government officials travel in," Jamie enthused.
Bernard seemed so normal, so human—they all do in the beginning—until he asked, "Which president?"
"Of the United States," my brother, Thaddeus, replied.
"Oh."
See, not so human after all.
Chapter Three
We passed New Orleans and headed into the… I wouldn't call it suburbs, exactly. More like pockets of civilization carved out among the wild. It was lovely, the farther away from the city we drove. Rich with lush green foliage, thick woods, rolling fields. Twenty-five miles later the smell and feel of water permeated the air more thickly. Nearby, the flowing Mississippi River murmured a gracious welcome as we pulled into a long, private driveway. Rounding a bend, Bernard glanced in the mirror back at me. "Welcome to Belle Vista, your new home."
It seemed there would be no shabby warehouses disguised as mansions here in Louisiana, like back in New York. No, sirree. Here was a blatant, in-your-face mansion. No hiding. No pretense. Soaring three stories tall, and so many columns… over a dozen at first glance. Lots of columns. Lots of windows. Lots of grandeur.
An ancient towering oak draped with Spanish moss dramatically framed the building on the left. A rounded, pillared wing, the gentle sweep of a half-circle was visible to the right. Cast-iron balustrades gleamed darkly in the night. When I realized my mouth was agape, I gently shut it.
"Belle Vista is set on the rise of a twelve-feet arched foundation—what kept it dry when other homes flooded. It's a plantation home originally built in 1857," Bernard announced proudly as our vehicle rolled to a gentle stop.
Home didn't quite describe the immense structure.
We piled out of both cars, all of us captured by the sheer loveliness, the old, timeless grandeur of the magnificent edifice.
"It's beautiful," Tersa whispered, expressing the sentiment for us all.
"Greek revival," Thaddeus proclaimed, more technically. "Although it also has a definite Palladian influence."
Horace sniffed with surprise, looking even more weasel-like. "You are correct, young man."
"Fluted columns," Thaddeus muttered, "and my God, look at the amazing Corinthian capitals. The size of them. Hand-carved, I'll bet."
The step Thaddeus took toward the house was halted by my hand. "Wait," I said.
There were no other cars, which was why I'd missed it at first. Although hard to imagine how I could have missed it… the hundreds of countless heartbeats. Slow, slow heartbeats. Much slower than the human heart. "There's people inside." My voice flat, I looked sharply at Bernard and Horace.
Bernard dipped his head calmly. "Your people, my Queen."
My people? So many? My palms suddenly grew damp.
Amber and Gryphon stepped up on either side to flank me. Tomas and Aquila surrounded Rosemary and the children—although they weren't technically children. In fact, Tersa was actually older than I was, but that was how I thought of them. Chami automatically took the rear guard. All done without thought.