Chapter 15

Anthony's mouth curled. "That was my previous opinion, of course."

He walked slowly around behind Mary, bent a little, pressed a kiss to the side of her neck with unmistakable familiarity, and said quietly, "Because at present I'm entirely certain I have acquired the most delicious rarity in the universe."

Michael's gaze passed over the clear toothmarks on Mary's neck and moved away, indifferent. His tone stayed cold. "Your Highness. You are supreme commander of the entire legion. You shouldn't act on impulse this way. The Council has already expressed dissatisfaction over your performing an unauthorized Claiming at the academic presentation."

Mary, having been kissed without warning, covered her neck in bewilderment and retreated behind Patricia.

She listened to Patricia's brief translation and finally worked out what was happening.

So Prince Anthony had personally requisitioned a Gakadragon to serve as her stove, and General Michael was here to hold him accountable.

Mary offered some silent commentary.

Come to think of it, Patricia had mentioned earlier that the reason she now belonged to Prince Anthony was that back in the lecture hall, while everyone else had obeyed the rules and confined themselves to watching, he alone had shamelessly moved first — jumped in, bit her, picked her up and walked out. Rules treated as though they weren't there.

And from what Patricia had said, this person also appeared to be the supreme commander of the military.

High rank, real power, no law above him.

So — was this the thing they call a dictator?

Anthony, faced with a righteous accusation, was unmoved.

He turned the crystal glass unhurriedly in his hand and produced a cold laugh. "The Elders are angry? That's a posture struck for your benefit, nothing more. This organism's blood produces madness. Without a clear and powerful owner it could set off a scramble, and civil disorder, at any moment. Its blood is extremely valuable, so finding it an owner was never the problem. The problem is who is qualified to be that owner."

He paused, and his gaze went across Michael. "Leave that decision to the Council, and whichever noble they selected, every other family would accuse them of partiality. Leave it to a commoner, and a weakling incapable of protecting his own property should never have laid a hand on it in the first place."

Anthony raised an eyebrow at him. "My dear Marquess. Don't you agree? As supreme executive and commander-in-chief of the army, and a prince besides, I've never been known for restraint, and even a modest violation of the rules brings me no serious penalty. Isn't a man like that the most suitable candidate available? Angry?" He laughed coldly. "Watching me volunteer to play the part of the man who breaks the rules and acts without permission, and solve a difficult problem for every one of them — I imagine what the Elders actually felt was relief."

Michael looked at him with some surprise and had, briefly, nothing to say.

"Though you'd have been a suitable candidate too, of course." Anthony tipped his head back and finished the glass. "You brought her in, after all, and you're the last blood of House Montero, so public opinion would have been more forgiving of you. Unfortunately, you will never see what really lies beneath all these hypocritical rules. Turn time back and run it again and you'd still lose to me. Because that is simply your character, Michael. A soldier bound hand and foot by rules and tradition. Whereas I am the precise opposite."

Anthony drew his sword slowly, walked to the foot of the Gakadragon, and said, under his breath, "And I happen to be a bastard who questions the rules and then tramples on them."

The words weren't finished before he sprang. The blade came up and the blade came down.

All Mary saw was several silver traces, like lightning, passing through the entire body of the beast in a single instant.

Everything held in absolute stillness for several seconds — and then, as Anthony walked calmly away wiping down the blade, the enormous dragon came apart. Accompanied by one shrill cry of grief, that vast body collapsed in pieces, and the blood that erupted out of it painted half the hall.

Everyone stared, dumbstruck.

Sheathing the sword, Anthony turned and pressed a light kiss to the forehead of the thoroughly stunned Mary. "Go on. Make your lunch."

Mary was no worshipper of violence, but the dragon-killing she had just witnessed was spectacularly, offensively cool.

Power and precision, slaughter and elegance, combined without a visible seam.

Mary had to concede that Anthony's arrogant face and that cold, blazing insolence actually went rather well together.

So he despised tradition and rules. Apparently even vampires produced the occasional deviant.

Beside her, Patricia was fanatically recording velocity and force data from the strike.

At the door, the members of Michael's escort were pressing their hands to their foreheads and conferring in low voices about how one reports a military asset being butchered in public.

Michael himself appeared to still be digesting Anthony's remarks, which had landed with some force, and stood entirely still.

And Mark the butler, ignoring his master's showstopping performance from beginning to end, was saying quietly and with real pain, "So expensive. The cleaning is going to be so expensive."

Operating on the practical principle that food available must not be wasted, Mary went straight to work, cutting several sections of rib meat she had picked out earlier off the dragon's body while it was fresh.

Skin off, bone out, sliced thin. There was a certain amount of flying flesh involved in the process, but the efficiency was remarkable.

Mary was no cook, but she had helped her mother in the kitchen constantly.

Washing vegetables, chopping garlic, boning chicken breasts — she had plenty of experience there, so handling a few cuts of meat was well within her range.

With both hands covered in blood, Mary carried out the most basic grilling operation available, already salivating over the alien barbecue in her immediate future.

Beside her, Patricia was making meticulous observational notes.

Removal of outer tissue.

Excision of skeletal structure and fascia.

Separation of muscle from fat layer.

Sectioning of muscle tissue into thin slices.

Application of flavoring agents to tissue sections.

Searing of tissue sections at high temperature until smoke is produced.

Note: when the tissue presents as intermediate between semi-liquefied gel and carbonization, this appears to be regarded as the optimal stage for consumption.

Every Blood servant in the hall had involuntarily retreated some ten or fifteen meters, and was watching this human woman's blood-soaked culinary procedure from a distance, with an expression compounded of horror and awe.

"This is the Earth method of preparing food?"