Free Protector of the Flame by Isis Rushdan Page B

without consulting us?” Disgust permeated each word.
    Cyrus met their disappointed gazes without flinching. “I am what you’ve made me, a leader that trusts his own judgment, follows his instincts. Not some frightened ram in need of a shepherd’s guidance.”
    “You don’t lead Herut yet, Cyrus.” Lord Orazio crossed his legs. “Be clear, there are three seats on this Council and all of them are filled. You are not above our dictates.”
    They wanted him to say he was wrong, to show humility, to beg forgiveness. Well, they’d get no such contrition. “I was given no orders to shackle my kabashem and drag her by the hair to Herut against her will.”
    “Your mate is but a child. Merely what? Thirty? And you let her control you,” Constantine said. A bitter scoff followed. “Your weakness astounds me and shames this House.”
    Leta placed a hand on Constantine’s forearm. “A strong female knows her heart and follows her mind regardless of her kabashem’s objections.”
    Lord Orazio rolled his eyes, stroking his mustache. “Yes, Leta, you are a paragon of such a female.”
    The backhanded compliment referred to Leta taking Cyrus’s father, Dominicus, as her consort-misère , despite her kabashem’s profound objections. According to Herut law since his mother had died, it wasn’t only permitted but encouraged by ancient tradition. It was the only union not between kabashem sanctioned, as an act of mercy. However, when the protests of a sealed mate shake the walls of a House, threatening to rip apart a family, tradition had a way of falling to the wayside. Unless the one making the decision was Leta.
    “Let us not forget,” Leta said, “Serenity is not of House Herut. Unlike Cyrus, she is free to go wherever she wishes.”
    Cyrus stepped closer, his paltry thread of patience unraveling. “My kabashem will come to Herut once the necklace is off. I ask for permission to retrieve her at once.”
    “The immortals bait us,” Constantine spit. “You and your mate fall for their tricks, and now you want us to let you leap into their trap.” A derisive laugh grated like nails on a chalkboard.
    Why wouldn’t they listen to reason? “Salvation, freeing all Kindred from the afflictions of the curse is of the utmost importance to Herut.”
    Lord Orazio leaned forward. “Do not presume to lecture us on the desires of Herut. We. Are. Herut.”
    “In order to break the curse,” Cyrus continued, shifting his gaze to Leta, hoping his aunt would aid him, “I must be reunited with my kabashem , regardless of the immortals’ schemes. Without her, I am nothing to this House.”
    Constantine flew down from his throne with the whiplash speed of the warrior he was born and slapped Cyrus backhanded. Blood pooled in his mouth.
    “After all we’ve done for you,” Constantine growled, “how we’ve believed in you, despite your mistakes that cost your mother her life, to speak such words is to spit in our faces. You are the future of Herut. One day soon, you will take my seat and fulfill your duty, make no mistake about that.”
    Fury boiled, the thread snapped. It took all of Cyrus’s self-control to keep his wings from unfurling and choking a concession from Constantine regardless of the truth he spoke.
    “The issue remains,” Leta said. “Cyrus must go to House Aten to bring Serenity to us so they can fulfill their destiny. We can’t allow him to go alone and we can’t send battle-guard.”
    Constantine turned his back on Cyrus with indignant flourish and retook his seat.
    “This is a delicate situation that must be handled with care,” Lord Orazio said. “Perhaps one of us should accompany him, along with an entourage of warriors such as Abbadon and necessary attendants.”
    Gritting his teeth, Cyrus exhaled frustration. “Then it’s decided. I leave for Aten today.”
    Leta smiled while her eyes sparked of warning. “Patience, Cyrus. We’ll send you to Aten.”
    “Once we are certain of how best to