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teeth. He was in no mood to be played with tonight, and Arsinöe seemed to be in a dangerously changeable mood.
    “You should ask Jaden if you see him,” she replied lightly—
too
lightly. “But I doubt you will. He’s left us.”
    Jaden, you fool.
No matter how the Ptolemy valued their services, he and Jaden were servants. And servants did not have the option of quitting. That was the same as choosing death.
    Yet another thing for Ty to worry about. Later. All that mattered right this second was that he wouldn’t be getting help from any of his own blood—the only sort of help he might have tolerated.
    As though she’d heard his thoughts, the queen continued. “I was thinking of sending along Nero. He’ll deal with her quickly enough, one way or the other.”
    Ty’s eyes narrowed in the darkness, and he came to a complete stop on the deserted sidewalk. A number of pieces clicked into place.
So
, he thought.
That’s how it is
. Arsinöe had rarely taken lovers during his time traveling with the Ptolemy court, but each had presented some challenges. Nero, however, was more than just a challenge. Ty had longsuspected the cold, calculating Ptolemy highblood wanted not just Arsinöe, but also the power she had at her disposal. And Nero had made no secret of his longing for the days when the Cait Sith were treated like slaves of the lowest order. For Arsinöe to bring him up this way could only mean Nero had finally caught her eye, which meant he had her ear as well. And whatever doubts she had already been having about Ty’s presence in her circle would have been bolstered, agreed with, and amplified. For
months
.
    Ty suddenly felt ill.
    “Why would you send a highblood? You made it very clear you wanted a hunter for the job, and Nero isn’t one to get his hands dirty,” Ty ground out, barely managing to hold his tongue and lash out the way he wanted to. The queen might tolerate some insolence from him, but there were places one did not go… and he was suddenly unsure of his limits.
    “I did send a hunter,” Arsinöe snapped. “And months later—countless precious lives later—I have nothing to show for it. There are tasks better suited to noble blood, Tynan. I have begun to think this is one of them.”
    His throat ached from all of the things he wanted to shout at her, things that would get a cat like himself killed in a heartbeat if said in the presence of a highblood—any highblood. But he had not made this world, he reminded himself. All he could do was survive in it. Which is what he would continue to do, no matter the unspeakable things it did to what was left of his pride.
    “How long will you give me, Highness?” he asked hoarsely, reverting to the formality he hadn’t used with her in many years. That finally seemed to touch her, for the little it was worth.
    “A week, Tynan,” Arsinöe said softly. Then with warmth she had thus far been lacking, “A week, and I give this to Nero. But I know you won’t fail me. You never have.”
    He accepted what passed for an endearment, but when he ended the call and set off again toward the square, Ty was left with roiling anger and no outlet for it. He’d wanted to know what had happened in his absence, but in this case, knowing was no comfort to him. In a roaming court of bored vampire nobility who were as predictable as they were violent, one of the things you could always count on was the constant jockeying for position among the highblood hangers-on who served as Arsinöe’s courtiers, advisers, and, occasionally, lovers.
    Looked like Nero had finally made it to the top. And Ty couldn’t begin to imagine how he might undo the damage the clever Ptolemy had no doubt already done.
    Goddamn highbloods.
    Tynan glared ahead as he zeroed in on a prime site for dinner, a seedy little bar called Jasper’s where the occasional patron staggered out into the cold night and mediocre 80s power rock drifted from the darkened interior with each swing of the