Many thanks to the fantastic people who commented on the last part - thank you Shang Leopard, xhinglian (Thank you!), xo-saraa-ox, Char17, blahberghy and the magnificent Midnight Demonn. I love hearing what you think; it makes my day!

Hope you enjoy...

The Fourth King Part Two

Evening found them in the living room, spread about on the couches in an odd echo of yesterday, only then she had been among friends. This was a far stranger and somewhat uncomfortable scene; Blue's presence meant the tension was as tangible as the heat.

Chatoya had positioned herself well away from him, and was using Jepar as a not-entirely-human shield. She thumbed through sheaves of reports, though none gave her any reassurance.

"So how long have you worked for the Furies?" Jepar asked Aurenna in a voice so fake and hearty that it didn't help matters.

"Nearly twenty years," the shapeshifter answered. She was making notes in a neat hand, cross-legged on the red and black tiles. "Long enough to read your file when it first came out."

A flush stained Jepar's cheeks. "Um. We don't talk about that."

She only raised an eyebrow into her short blond hair. "I can see why. Did you ever think about a career with us?"

The shapeshifter looked like he wished he'd never broached the matter. "No. It was a one-off."

"Actually, I believe it was a nine-off," she remarked. Chatoya got the impression she was enjoying Jepar's discomfort. "If we're going to be accurate. And you..."

Her amber eyes shifted to Cougar, who stared back insolently.

"You," Aurenna mused, "are not what I expected. The family resemblance is uncanny, of course."

Chatoya wasn't sure who looked more offended, Blue or Cougar.

"But you're so much more..."

"Awesome?" Cougar offered sweetly.

"Human," Aurenna pronounced. "I was expecting you to be more like your brother."

His mouth curled into a sneer, his eyes gold as sunlight, gold as a Pharoah's fortune. "You say that like it'd be a good thing."

She smiled. "And if you think it wouldn't, why are you here?"

The silence that lingered after that was extremely uncomfortable.

oOo

"Evening." Kurt Schrader's silhouette filled the entrance. He was one of Nightfire's best and it was no surprise that Blue had brought him here. An imposing man, his dark brows and stern mouth gave him a saturnine look. He nodded to her. "Pursanguia. A pleasure to see you. I don't believe I recognise your companions."

"You look well, Kurt," she said, smiling at him. Though he had been one of her most vocal critics, they had come to a truce after she had helped him avenge his son's murder. "This is Jepar Jubatus..."

Jepar bounded to his feet and gave Kurt a handshake, his smile warm and civil. He knew danger when he saw it.

"...and this is Cougar Redfern," she finished.

Kurt gave the vampire a long once-over, then his dark eyes flicked to Blue, clearly cataloguing the similarities. Like Jepar, Cougar offered his hand, but stinted on the smile. She could practically hear bones creaking as they shook, more challenge than greeting.

"Interesting," Kurt said in a tone that implied quite the opposite. When he turned back to the door, his voice softened: she could have sworn he sounded affectionate. "Sunny! All safe and clear."

Outside, a car door slammed. Then a figure appeared behind Kurt, the setting sun like a golden aura outlining her. She held a small gun in one hand, and the light ran along it with dazzling intensity.

"Chatoya Irkil," Blue said, "Meet Sunita Halaria."

She stepped into the shade – and Chatoya felt a chill of pure shock.

Sunita was a child.

She looked maybe eleven or twelve, a slender girl with a stream of shiny black hair and lovely, liquid eyes that were far older than her form. The bold pinks and golds of her clothes sat well against her dark complexion, not so well against the weapon she carried as if it was an extension of her arm.

"Pursanguia," she said. Her voice was low, with traces of India in it. "I am honoured to meet you."

Chatoya struggled to muster words as she rose. Sunita barely came up to her chest and looked like a sudden breeze would knock her over. "From what Blue's told me, the honour is definitely mine," she said. "And you can call me Chatoya."

"I'm called Sunita in this life," the girl said. "But I don't mind being called Sunny."

A smile broke through her formal mask: Chatoya saw the promise of the beauty Sunny would become. Her eyes were bright as stars, full of hope, full of the future. She shone then, like a twist of fire in darkness.

"I can see why," she remarked softly.

"You said in this life," Jepar put in. "Who were you?"

Sunny looked up at him. "You're an Old Soul too," she said. "I can see it in your eyes."

He blinked, startled, then gave her a lopsided smile. "I am." Jepar crouched down so he was on her level. "I'm not a Fury though."

She watched him with a kind of wonder. "Then what are you?"

"Just a shapeshifter. Chatoya's one of my oldest friends. I've come to look after her. I'm Jepar – though in my last life, I was called Ieran." He leaned in and said in a stage-whisper, "I was way less fun then."

Sunny smiled shyly. "I've never met anyone who isn't a Fury."

"Well, it's your lucky day, because there's two of us here," Jepar said. He stood up, and gestured to Cougar. "This is Cougar. He's Blue's brother and he's Toya's friend too."

Sunny's mouth dropped open. There was an accusing look on her face as she swivelled to stare at Blue, hands planted on her hips. "You never said you had a brother!"

"I try to forget," Blue said darkly. "Mostly, I succeed."

She gazed up at Cougar, face full of adoration. "You're taller than he is!"

"Yep. I'm nicer too."

Sunny giggled, and the sound reminded Chatoya just how young she was.

"Nice won't do you much good with Herod," Blue said sharply. "As Sunita is more than qualified to know."

Chatoya hated him a little then for the ease with which he wiped the smile from Sunny. Her expression distorted, an amalgamation of an adult's well-worn grief and a child's lurid fears.

"Was that necessary?" Kurt said through clenched teeth. "Sunny is well aware of her duty."

"It's all right, Kurt." Sunny sat down on the couch beside Blue. Her feet kicked idly against the chair. "He's got a point. It's business." She folded her hands into her lap, her back straight as a princess's. "You asked who I was. My name back then was Salome. I was Herod's daughter."

Cougar made a choking noise. "The Salome? As in dance of the seven veils?"

She gazed at him, unblinking and unashamed. "That Salome. After my father began consorting with demons, he changed. My mother was afraid, but she knew what he did was wrong. She...she tried to stop him, to burn all his spells."

"Then he gave her to them. I was only six months old." Her voice was very quiet, drained and dreadful. "But my nurse had loved my mother, so she told me the truth. He struck me one day, because I wouldn't do what he wanted. I knew how it would end then. When he killed my nurse, no one was left to help me." She swallowed. "No one but them. I was desperate."

"The demons?" Chatoya guessed.

Sunny gave a tiny nod. "I went into his rooms late one night when he was gone. I burned the spices and I spoke the words, but when the fires opened onto their world, I didn't call the name in the spells. I meant to, but I was scared and I could hardly think..." She blinked: her eyes were wet. "I called for my mother. And she answered. She gave me the sword, and she promised that it could kill him forever when I understood how to use it. She was crying all the time, my beautiful mother, and she told me that she could only give gifts that hurt, because that was what she had become. She was a demon too."

"A sword of stars," Chatoya quoted, recalling the prophecy Blue had told them.

"She's still there," Sunny said, her voice bitter and thin. "Mariamne the demon, trapped in the fires because nothing was enough for my father. Not her, not me, not anyone or anything."

She was weeping outright, tears streaming down her face. Then, to Chatoya's surprise, she got to her feet and staggered into Kurt Schrader's patient embrace as if he were the father she had so desperately needed.

"Don't cry, Sunny," he murmured, patting her head. "It's almost over."

She raised a haggard face. "But it's not, is it? I've killed him seven times and he keeps coming back!"

"This time he won't," Kurt swore. "Now come on, didn't you promise Aurenna you were going to help her make dinner tonight?"

"You did," Aurenna said, her eyes tender. "I made a special trip to the market so you could show me how to make that stew you tell me's so good."

Sunny cuffed at her eyes, a small forlorn figure overshadowed by the immensity of her task. Aurenna took her hand and led her from the room, asking gentle questions about Karnak.

"Poor kid," Cougar muttered. "How the hell's she going to kill Herod?"

"With our help," Kurt said stoutly. His jaw was tensed, his eyes hard. "Sunny's going to kill him once and for all and then she's going to live a long, happy life."

Blue's voice was cool. "That sword is quite a weapon."

Horror flashed in Kurt's eyes, brief but real. "Diablo, no."

"It must be considered, Schrader. We've trained her as arduously as we would one of our own-"

"For this task. For no other reason!"

"Sunny's future is a matter for discussion," Chatoya put in. Cougar and Jepar looked at her with identical astonishment; they rarely saw her professional persona. "But it's a discussion that should be informed by the opinions of those who know her best. Who raised her?"

Blue's cutting glance said he knew what she was doing. "Sunita has lived with Aurenna. Kurt trained her."

"I see," she said, giving him just as pointed a stare in return.

"Yes," he said icily. "You do. Because your opinions are not clouded by sentiment."

She pressed a hand to her breast, feigning shock. "Careful, Blue. That was almost a compliment."

"Sounded more like an insult," Kurt said idly. The tension had not left his big frame: he towered over them both, a dark bundle of energy in a room full of light.

Blue stood, languid, and the space seemed suddenly a good deal smaller. "I suppose that depends on your point of view, Schrader. And just how sentimental you've become."

Kurt's hands curled into fists. His eyes flared, the hard shiny gleam of onyx. "Sunny is a person."

"Sunita is a weapon," Blue corrected. "Something you seem to have forgotten."

"She is both," snarled Kurt, power swirling about him like a halo. "And when she has ceased to be a weapon, she has every right to a life."

"As your son did not," said her soulmate in a voice of deadly softness. Kurt did not flinch, but all the same, Chatoya saw those words carve through him. "He was an inadequate weapon and he broke because of it."

Kurt threw the punch before any of them could stop him – and Blue evaded it easily. His hands snapped out: there was a crack as Kurt's arm broke, and an almighty crash when Blue threw him into the wall.

"Sunita is not yours," Blue said, not even breathing hard. "She belongs to the Furies by her own agreement. Your job is to teach her to kill Herod. Nothing more. Nothing less."

The vampire got to his feet as if he hadn't just collided with six inches of brickwork. The loathing in his eyes made Chatoya very glad it wasn't aimed at her. "I have done my job, as I always do. Even when your initiates murdered my son because you condone such atrocities in the name of ambition, even when you told me it was justice, nothing more and nothing less, I did my job! I raised a child so you could cut him down, and I will not raise another for the same pointless, useless end."

"That is not your decision." There was steel in her soulmate's voice and steel in his stare, bared and sharp and brutal.

"No." He was very still, very silent. Only the turmoil that moved in his eyes like stormclouds indicated that he was more than an imitation of life. Then Kurt turned to her, and he said, "It is yours, though."

"In part," she said, wary.

"And what will you decide?" He fired the question at her as if it was a bullet: she could not dodge it, could not evade the impact of it, as deep in her heart as lead in her flesh.

Her mind kept returning to Sunny's smile, to the hope which blazed in her with such young, romantic fervour. And to Blue, who was all shifting shadows and clever traps, for who hope was only a tool to shape and twist and craft.

"You were right," she said quietly. "Sunny is a weapon. She is also a person. Maybe she will live happily ever after. And maybe she'll want to join the Furies. But it should be her choice. Not ours."

Kurt gave one short nod. "I've heard you are a woman of your word."

"I am."

"And I am a man of mine," he said. "If you will take Sunny's side, I'll take yours."

She felt the jolt along the soulmate link like static electricity. "What do you mean?" she said cautiously.

"I'll publicly renounce Nightfire and join Pursang."

"Can you even do that?" asked Cougar, sounding as bemused as she felt.

Kurt Schrader gave her a grim smile. "Watch me."

She did not dare look at Blue's face. As far as she knew, no one had moved across the Furies in a very long time. Such news would light a wildfire in their dark, cold world.

It would be a declaration of war. There could be no going back, no denying that the stealthy rebellion she had begun was out in the open. And now it was no longer merely the two of them, treading a well-worn no man's land in unending battle: they would pit Nightfire and Pursang against one another, and she could not say what the outcome would be.

And these days, she suspected, neither could Blue.

Chatoya held out her hand. Kurt took it, and she met his eyes without fear. "I accept."

oOo

Dinner was tense. Although Aurenna and Kurt kept up an easy flow of chatter with Sunny, she could tell Cougar and Jepar were itching to interrogate her about what had happened. She carefully avoided giving them the opportunity. To her surprise, Blue joined the conversation with apparent ease, putting on a front of amiability that seemed to be for Sunny's benefit.

Once they had cleared the table, she got her first chance to see Sunny fight. Under the setting sun, the girl moved with a grace and swiftness that came from years of training.

"It'd be good for you to practice on someone different," Kurt observed after she'd finished taking a wooden baton to his kneecaps. He staggered up with a grimace. "Maybe Redfern."

Cougar glanced up from where he was picking through a layout of the tomb. "No way. I don't beat up kids."

"Good to know," Kurt said. "But if you manage to touch Sunny, I'll be disappointed. She managed to give your brother a broken ankle to think about last time."

"He still won," complained Sunny, frowning.

"And what did that teach you?" put in Aurenna patiently.

Sunny rolled her eyes. "It's not over until they're dead," she said in a sing-song voice.

"And?"

"And once they're dead, it's still not over until you've dismembered the body, set it alight and scattered the ashes across a minimum ten mile radius."

"Good," Aurenna muttered. She gave Cougar an unimpressed look. "Now stop trying to weasel out of it. You won't hurt Sunny."

Cougar looked very uncertain as he got to his feet. Ten seconds later, he was knocked off them as Sunny tackled him around the knees. By the time she elbowed him in the face, he'd realised it might end in tears, but they would almost certainly be his.

Even so, Chatoya could see he was pulling his punches. Cougar was fighting defensively, whereas Sunny was going straight for the jugular. She was small but ferociously quick; and those flowing clothes concealed an array of weapons. About the point where the knife nicked his ear, Cougar's eyes started to gleam gold.

"Bear in mind that this is your back up," remarked Blue, his voice for her ears only. "Still think you made the right choice?"

"Always," she murmured. "Still think you did?"

His eyes flicked to Kurt Schrader, who was nodding approval as Sunny whipped a kick into Cougar's stomach. "I didn't bring them to protect me. I'll admit, at first I wasn't sure that Schrader would die for her. Now I know."

She stared at him. "You set him up."

He didn't answer: he only smiled faintly, though that could have been at the happy sight of his brother landing in an ungainly heap against a palm tree as Sunny declared victory. She wondered, uneasily, what he would gain from it all – and worse, what she would lose.

She thought of a crown that could control anyone and anything, and felt her blood run cold.

oOo

The night was as sultry as the day. Her window opened onto a cloudless sky, dominated by a vast white cataract of a moon. It turned her mosquito net to a shimmering silver curtain, but she was no Sleeping Beauty to dream a hundred years away.

Instead, Chatoya tossed and turned, too hot even in the cotton sheets. At last, she gave up: she slid into linen trousers and a loose top and crept downstairs.

When she got there, she was startled to see the back door stood open. She paused on the threshold, caught by the sight that greeted her.

Moonlight spilled onto the garden, turning it into a haze of shadows and silver. The palm trees were spiky silhouettes against the indigo sky, stars glinting between their leaves. Everything was still and tranquil – except for Blue.

He was a blur of motion: kicks, punches, flips, moving through an intricate routine. She saw, now and then, the gleam of blades that appeared and disappeared with a sleight of hand as deadly as it was impressive. It was a stark reminder of how dangerous he was.

He saw her at once: he paused, and tossed her a careless smile, his eyes dark as ink. Sweat gleamed on his arms and cheekbones. "Stare as long as you want."

"What are you doing?" she said.

"Practicing. If you've read the reports-"

"Which you know I have," she cut in, irked by the insult.

The amusement in his voice said that he had provoked exactly the reaction he'd wanted. "Then you'll know that the tomb has four guards, demons every one. They are extremely fast."

"We can take care of them."

He didn't look convinced. "My witch, you can barely take care of yourself."

"If this is about the leprechauns, you weren't covered in glory either."

His mouth twisted. "As I recall, I was covered in leprechaun spit. But I assume you didn't come out here to talk about that."

"No." She paused. There was no good way to start this conversation. "I don't think you should be the one to get the crown."

"I'd ask why, but the reasons seem fairly self-evident." His voice was dry. "If it's any reassurance, I have no intention of wearing it. Indeed, I doubt anyone but Herod can."

"That's not what I mean. You said you would try to avoid being controlled by it."

"It's linked to Herod. Even when he and it are apart, he has some measure of influence over it." He shrugged. "Or so Aurenna believes. I'm ambivalent, myself."

"And what if she's right? What if he manages to control it – and you – while we're trying to get out? It's happened before. The only reason any of them survived was because Herod was half-starved and Nightfire sent its weakest member to get the crown. Even so, it took three people to hold him down and stake him."

"Do you have a better idea?" he said, eyes narrow and unfathomable in the gloom.

She let out a sigh. Better was a relative term. "Jepar or Cougar."

"I have doubts about their ability to protect you, never mind their ability to outrun a quartet of demons, fight off a mad king and resist a spell powerful enough to compel an entire nation to obedience. No."

It had come to this then. "Me."

"No." The word brooked no negotiation.

"Blue," she said softly. "If I get the crown, we can both guarantee that you can stop me if necessary. Can you say the same if our positions were reversed?"

His silence was telling. And somewhat unflattering.

At last he said, "You did not fare well in your last encounter with demons."

She flinched. The scars sliced across her stomach: he'd traced them with his hands often enough to know their ragged lines. The reminder was a cruel one, of the secrets she still had not told him, of all that she had found in a small dark house where a demon pulled her heart apart piece by bleeding piece.

It hurt her. It angered her.

And she said, "Then I guess I'll have to fight you for it. I win, I get the crown. You win, you do."

It was an unpalatable position to be in. Last time she had fought Blue, she had been the challenged: and she had chosen the place and weapons. This time, he had all the advantage.

"Done," he said. "Weapons..." His smile flashed. "Hand to hand. Right here, right now."

She took a deep breath. Although she had spent the last three years learning to fight, she had never beaten Blue without the use of her magic. She met his eyes: she braced herself.

"Are you going to stand around chatting all night?" she said acidly. "Or shall we get on with it?"

She saw the gleam of his teeth. "As you wish."

He moved, lithe and quick, but she was ready: she caught the blow, and then it was a mad tangle of fists and feet, of dodging kicks, slipping from his grip, judging which blows to take and which to defend. Aches bloomed and faded on her body, driven back by adrenaline.

The link crackled around them: each blow brought sparks with it, until part of her embraced every contact that lit her veins like lightning. She saw it echoed in his eyes, and it gave her an idea.

She stepped past a punch, into his body: he was tense, hot, already moving to the next strike. And then she kissed him.

It was an act of trust. She was entirely defenceless in that moment, her hands on his chest, on his hammering heart.

When his arms closed around her, it was victory of a different sort. The kiss was savage in its intensity, bristling heat to match the air around them. Every touch left its imprint: his mouth, his hands, the hard lines of his body.

She drew back, both of them breathing hard. His eyes were dark with desire. The fight was forgotten.

But only by one of them.

When she drove her fist into his jaw, he didn't see it coming. He jolted back, dropping to his knees, and then, to her surprise, laughed, a low husky sound that rippled up to the stars.

"Impressive," he said, fingering his cut lip. "You've certainly become more ruthless."

She unclenched her fingers, knuckles stinging. First blood: she could be magnanimous in victory. "I have a good teacher."

"You have an excellent teacher," he corrected, and his eyelashes dropped. "A shame you have so much left to learn."

"Like what?" she challenged recklessly.

His eyes flicked up, and flared gold as honey. "This," he said, and moved.

She couldn't keep track of what happened: there was an impact and air and then the prickly grass in her back. He had one hand beside her head, and his weight pinned her, the space between them small and intimate. The knife at her throat had materialised out of nowhere. And just to cover every eventuality, which she gave him grudging credit for, dragonfire shimmered around him like a mirage.

"Don't start mixing business with pleasure," Blue advised. "It'll get messy."

"What happened to fighting by the rules? I won."

He raised an eyebrow. "Wrong."

She reached up, and touched the blood on his mouth. He went still. "First blood," she said.

"You didn't specify first blood, my witch. I win."

"You do not!"

He gazed down at her, serene. The knife was an icy touch at her throat. "Very well. I'm prepared to offer you a trade."

She hesitated. "I don't know what you can offer me that I don't already have."

"The little fiend," he said. "When we vote on Sunita's future, I will give you my support. In return, you agree that I'll get the crown and we'll run the risk that Herod may control me. If he does, I suggest you distract me in much the same way as you did a moment ago."

She blinked. "I was going to try flashfrying you if it all went wrong. Do you think kissing you is more likely to work?"

"No, I'd just prefer it." His smile was wicked, sudden, gone in a breath. "Do we have a deal?"

"I could still win," she pointed out.

"You're welcome to try, certainly," he said in a voice which suggested she didn't have a chance.

He swayed back from the slap she aimed at him. The knife never moved. When she grabbed his arm, it dug deeper: she could not squirm out of his grip, could not beat him back or throw him off. Ten minutes of frantic last-ditch tactics followed, during which he remained immovable and irritating.

At last, she sagged back, exhausted. "Fine. Agreed. Let me up."

He did so: when she stood, her head whirled, and she had to sit back down on the grass again.

"I should have hit you harder," she muttered.

He crouched down: his hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek in a trail of fire. "As I said, you have a lot to learn."

She gazed up at him, not leaning into that touch, refusing to need him. "So do you. Why do you want to get your hands on that crown so badly?"

He had handed her Kurt Schrader with Sunny: they were a package deal. He had damaged his own reputation, and she couldn't fathom why if he truly had no intention of using the crown.

His eyes were vast as starless skies, measuring her. "To stop others from getting their hands on it," he said finally. "Someone leaked Algera's death. And they leaked just what it is Herod wants. A crown that bent the world to its wearer's will – even at the price of fire and pain, some fool will pay it."

She drew in a sharp, shocked breath. "Who leaked it?"

"I don't know. Yet." It must have galled him to admit that.

"But Didier's death was confidential. No one would have known outside..." Her voice trailed off as realisation hit her.

He said, as if it was no great matter, "Yes, my witch. Someone in the Furies betrayed us."

oOo

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