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can pay,” he said, his ambition a tangible force in the air.
    â€œI fear not.” Anthony rose to his feet, his smile one of regret. “Please give my regards to your mother, the queen, and tell her that I’m deeply sorry that we could not come to an agreement—”
    â€œWait.”
    â€œAye?”
    Lick, lick, lick of the lips.
    â€œPerhaps something could be arranged.”
    Gotcha.
    Anthony hid his smug smile. The prince was as easy to play as a fiddle.
    â€œI really do think it would be for the best, my friend,” he agreed with a sweetly encouraging smile. “It would be a pity to see the protected lands become a shopping center.”
    Yiant gave a stiff nod, turning to head for the door. “I will be in contact.”
    â€œSoon,” Anthony warned, briefly wondering precisely what had prompted the unexpected display of defiance before he was abruptly interrupted by the scent of cherries.
    Turning his head, Anthony watched as the mongrel stepped through the hidden panel at the back of the room.
    Keeley was a half human/half imp male who’d sought Anthony’s protection after the death of the previous Anasso. The too-handsome creature with pale green eyes and a mane of sleek golden hair had once been a playmate of the dissolute King of Vampires, and worse, he’d been related to Damocles, the imp who had contributed to the downfall of the once-powerful leader.
    The imp had feared that Styx might retaliate against those he held responsible for the destruction of his mentor and fled to Ireland.
    Not an unreasonable fear.
    So he’d allied himself with the druids, and over the past year, he’d earned a place in Anthony’s inner circle.
    It wasn’t that he was more clever or talented or powerful than Anthony’s other servants. Hell, his only real skill was creating portals.
    But he was willing to follow any order, no matter how outrageous, and more importantly, he possessed an intimate knowledge of the caves where the previous Anasso had lived.
    Caves that were now occupied by the leaders of the demon world, the Commission.
    â€œYou truly are evil, Benson,” the imp murmured, crossing the Aubusson carpet.
    Anthony adjusted his cuffs.
    The imp had no idea just how evil he could be.
    Not yet.
    â€œI don’t recall inviting you to my office, imp.”
    Wearing nothing more than a pair of faded jeans that emphasized his smooth, muscular chest, Keeley halted next to the wing chair.
    â€œWe have a problem.”
    Anthony frowned. “The prisoners?” he demanded, referring to the elder druids who refused to accept his vision for the future as well as the two interfering fairies.
    His first thought had been to destroy them. A dead enemy was the best enemy. But he hated to toss away such a valuable resource.
    It would be a sin to waste such potent blood.
    So instead of burning them at the stake, he’d locked them in a Labyrinth spell that kept them safely imprisoned.
    Keeley shook his head. “The spell still holds them.”
    â€œThen what has happened?”
    â€œA friend from America sent me this.”
    The imp held out his phone to reveal a photo of a slender man with a long mane of hair that glistened like rubies even in the grainy image.
    â€œA fairy?”
    â€œA Chatri.”
    Anthony hissed in shock. It wasn’t often anyone mentioned the pure-blooded ancients who were the ultimate rulers of the fey. They were written about in the secret druid legends, of course, along with dire warnings never to attract their attention.
    It was said that an angry Chatri could kill with just the power of his light . . . whatever the hell that meant.
    Anthony didn’t know, and didn’t want to find out.
    â€œImpossible,” he growled.
    â€œUnexpected, but clearly not impossible,” the imp drawled.
    Anthony frowned. He didn’t like sarcasm. It was the sign of a lazy mind.
    On the other hand, he did like using