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unfortunately.”
    “I take it today’s meetings did not go well?”
    “No better or worse than any other these past few weeks.” Lucan indicated a chair on the other side of his desk, then walked around to take his own seat as Darion sat down. “More and more, this summit is becoming a mockery. How can we expect to bridge the gap of mistrust between the races when the GNC’s own Council members can’t agree on the most basic principles?”
    “That bad?” Darion asked, his deep voice as grim as Lucan’s thoughts.
    “Yes,” Lucan said. “And then some. The politicians are using the summit as their personal campaign rallies. Corporations are seeing gold, turning the whole event into a media and advertising sponsorship circus. And let’s not forget moneyed clowns like Reginald Crowe who’re gilding every stage and pavilion with huge donations in exchange for seeing their names in lights around the world.” Lucan muttered a ripe curse. “This summit should have been held sacrosanct from any exploitation. Instead, it’s become a goddamned joke. Too much palm-greasing and favor-currying on both sides. Too many people—human and Breed alike—looking to cash in or use the summit as a platform on which to build their personal empires.”
    “So shut it down,” Dare replied, dark brows flat over his serious gaze. He leaned forward, resting his strong forearms on his spread thighs. “Yank the plug on the whole bloody thing. Then set a new course, a better one, that you control. Let the other GNC members get in line behind you or get out of the way.”
    Lucan smiled with wry amusement, hearing a younger version of himself in Dare’s decisive, black-or-white approach. “Tempting, Dare. I’ll be honest with you on that. But it’s hardly been twenty years since the last time I brought my fist down on human–Breed relations. To do it again now, in the middle of a high-visibility celebration of our so-called peace and optimistic plans for the future?” He shook his head, considering the idea for what hadn’t been the first time. He was a warrior, and had been for most of his long life. He was accustomed to the feel of a weapon in his hand, the blood of his fallen enemies pooling at his feet. He was a hard man, not well suited to the diplomacy his new role required of him, let alone gifted with an iota of tolerance for reckless fools or oily opportunists. “Disrupting the summit would undo all the good strides we’ve made so far—few though they may be. Worse, there are those on both sides who would be all too eager to call it an act of treason by the leader of the Order. War, even.”
    Lucan felt too confined suddenly, and rose to pace behind his desk. “I tell you, Darion. More and more, I fear that true peace between mankind and Breed is sitting on a keg of gunpowder. All it will take is one spark to blow all hope for our shared future sky-high.”
    Darion listened, still and contemplative, while Lucan wore a track in the floor across from him. When he spoke, his deep voice was grave. “If someone were to light that spark, be they rebels or other malcontents, what better place to incite a war than at a peace summit? We need to be prepared for that, be ready to act on even the smallest threat.”
    Lucan’s answering curse hissed through his teeth and emerging fangs. He’d thought the same thing, of course. Gideon and he had been taking every precaution to ensure the summit was nailed down and secure on every conceivable level. If he had to personally pat down every dignitary who entered the event, by God, he would do it.
    He glanced at Darion, reflecting on how easily he slipped into confiding in his only son as his equal. He respected Dare as a man. Marveled at his keen intellect and the strength of his convictions. Darion, the squalling, helpless infant who had somehow become a man, seemingly overnight to someone like Lucan, whose life spanned nearly a thousand years.
    Lucan had hoped that Dare might one