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and she placed her hands up in a placating gesture. “Hear me out. He’s the only one the Council will listen to and he was there in that underground chamber. He knows that you did not kill Enhard. He is the only one who can vouch for you.”
    “No,” Lucian snarled, standing so quickly that the chair beneath him slammed into the nearby wall. He stalked to the bar and poured himself another drink. “I would prefer execution than beg for his help.”
    “Lucian, please be reasonable. The Council will not delay a decision based on my vote alone. I will be overruled.” Lena’s voice was carefully modulated. She knew that if she pushed him too far, he would refuse just on principle. And of course he would. The thought of begging his brother to help him was ludicrous. Lena stood and walked toward him, resting her palm on his shoulder. “I don’t want to lose you, Lucian. Just promise me that you’ll at least consider it.”
    “There’s nothing that would ever make me do that,” he said, flinging her arm off with a violent shrug. “I would rather be burned in the fires of hell than beg my esteemed brother for anything. And you would do well to never mention it again.”
    Despite his ferocious threat, Lena stared at him and tried again. “Look,” she began, “your brother’s position as a royal vampire overlord on the High Council will afford him the authority to veto any decision of the Council. Even if he has to recuse himself from the vote given your relationship, he could prove without a doubt that Enhard had not died by your hand, and then you have a chance. Surely that’s worth something.” She took a deep breath. “Surely that’s worth your life.”
    “I do not need him,” he gritted through clenched teeth.
    “You do, but your goddamned pride won’t let you see beyond that.”
    “We are all damned, aren’t we, my love?”
    Her mouth tightened at his flippancy. “I’ll call him. You won’t have to do a thing.”
    Lucian watched in annoyance as she picked up the handset and dialed a number. She placed the call on speakerphone as Victoria’s lilting female voice answered. Lucian ignored the twinge in his stomach at the sound of it.
    “Hello?”
    “Hello, may I speak to Christian … er … His Grace?” Lena asked, forgetting to use Christian’s formal address. Lucian’s mouth flattened.
    “He’s out. May I say who’s calling, please?”
    “It’s Lena. I’ll try his cellphone. Thank you,” she said quickly and disconnected. She dialed another number. Lucian frowned, realizing that she had both numbers committed to memory, even after all these years. Despite himself, an unfamiliar bitter feeling coiled in his stomach, one he’d long forgotten.
    It clicked on, the voice imperious. “Yes?”
    “Christian, it’s Lena,” she said, her tone cautious. “I know I’m the last person you expected to hear from, but I need to see you regarding something important. It’s about Lucian. I … we … need your help. Can you stop by?”
    Lucian heard the dead silence on the other end of the phone line and knew that Lena had blindsided Christian with her blunt request. The silence deepened and he exhaled in an irritated rush. His brother would never agree to help him. His brows drew together and he was about to tell Lena to hang up when Christian spoke. “Where?”
    “My place. You remember?”
    “Yes. Thirty minutes.” The phone clicked off.
    Lena stared at Lucian, her look of triumph fading from her face at the glare on his. “My place made the most sense,” she explained. “There are too many people watching your every step here.”
    At her reasoning, he fought to bring his roiling jealousy under control. Lena’s apartment did make the most sense—they wouldn’t be overheard, and she had guards of her own. He poured himself a liberal helping of brandy and drained his glass in a single gulp. It wouldn’t matter if he drank the entire contents of the decanter, but the fire burning a