The only bene was that the internal shouting match droned out the sound of all that nasally I-know-everything.

The opportunity was obvious: Get rid of the king and seize control of the race.

The opportunity was unthinkable: Kill a fine male and a good leader and…a friend of sorts.

“…and we would choose who leads us. Make him accountable to the council. Ensure that our concerns are responded to.” Montrag returned to the couch he’d been on, sitting down and getting comfortable as if he could hot-air it about the future for hours. “The monarchy is not working and democracy is the only way-”

Rehv cut in, “Democracy typically means that everyone gets a vote. Just in case you’re unfamiliar with the definition.”

“But we would. All of us who serve on the council would be on the electoral board. Everyone would be counted.”

“FYI, the term everyone encompasses a couple more folks over and above ‘everyone like us.’”

Montrag shot over a load of oh-please-do-be-serious. “Would you honestly trust the race to the lower classes?”

“Not up to me.”

“It could be.” Montrag brought his teacup up to his mouth and looked over the brim with eyes that were sharp. “It absolutely could be. You are our leahdyre.”

Staring at the guy, Rehv saw the path as clearly as if it were paved and lit with halogen beams: If Wrath were killed, his royal line would end, because he had yet to sire young. Societies, particularly those at war as the vampires were, abhorred leadership vacuums, so a radical shift from monarchy to “democracy” wouldn’t be as unthinkable as it would have in another, saner, safer time.

The glymera might be out of Caldwell and hiding in their safe houses throughout New England, but that bunch of effete motherfuckers had money and influence and had wanted to take over forever. With this particular plan, they could clothe their ambitions in the vestments of democracy and make like they were taking care of the little people.