“Sailing ships?” I asked.

“My eyes among the European Mithrans had suggested that they would prefer sailing.”

My eyes meant his spy, the woman referred to as Madam Spy, as if that were a title of importance. “When they can have a cruise ship?” I asked.

Leo pursed his lips at that, as if rethinking.

“Five-star chefs, power when there’s no wind, lots of hunky humans, twenty-four-hour entertainment, swimming pools, gambling. And a speedy crossing. Maybe the vamps own their own line. How much faith do you have in your Madam Spy?”

“Perhaps too much,” he murmured, and sipped his bubbly stuff. He pulled the cord from his hair, releasing it from the queue; the long black strands had curled in the damp air. “She has been unreliable at times.”

“Cruise ships come and go all the time from the port,” I said. “No one would notice a cruise ship. But a sailing ship full of vamps? That would have hit social media immediately.”

“Hmmm.” He sipped, thinking more. “Cruise ships. And with the updated intermodal terminal, they could also come upriver aboard a cargo ship and debark at night with no one the wiser.”

“There would be security. Electronic monitoring of the docks?” Eli said, his tone making his explanation a question, the way a minor soldier might suggest something obvious to a superior officer. Eli continued to impress and surprise me with his social skills. “There are easier ways to get in.”

“If they are in my city, they are few,” Leo said. “I would know if the entire grouping of European Mithrans had all come ashore ahead of the parley, as some sort of”—his hand made a little rolling motion—“preemptive attack.”

Eli looked interested. “How would you know?”

“I am master of this city.” At our blank looks, Leo said, “I am master of the land, of the Mithrans, and of the humans in it. A few Mithrans or Naturaleza might enter without my knowledge—Peregrinus’ groups, for instance—slowly over time, but not in the number that the Europeans wish to bring.”

“And how many is that currently?” I asked. Because the negotiations were stalled again, this time on that all-important final number.

“Their current demand is for lodging, food, and entertainment for some fifty Mithrans and their one hundred fifty to two hundred humans.” He smiled and said wryly, “I would know.”

I accepted a second Coke from Eli, exchanging it for my glass of champagne, which he appreciated far more than I did. “And they expect you to pay for their lodging?”

“They do,” he said, his tone taking a decidedly subdued turn. “Their demands are based on progress.”

“Don’t sound like progress to me,” I said. “It sounds like extortion or protection money or something.”

“Progress is the term for a king or emperor touring his country,” Leo said. “Land was always held in the name of the monarch, and when he or she wished to visit, it was the responsibility of the noble landowner to host the entire court. Such a progress could be considered a blessing or a punishment. A blessing if the monarch arrived and departed swiftly. A punishment should the monarch remain, draining finances and resources unto penury.”

“And your city belongs to them?” Eli said, emphasizing the pronouns.

“It isn’t my city, according to the United States government. When they bought the Louisiana territories, they bought the land here, but few of the Mithrans agreed with Napoleon’s right to make the sale, as Napoleon was human and not of the regal line of Mithran rulers. They have long disputed the transaction.” Leo relaxed in his seat, still sipping, his mood seeming to mellow. “Their most recent disputation was in the World Court. Acting as a displaced royal family, they accused the United States of theft of their territory and potential homeland. The International Court of Justice declined to hear the argument in 1962. They went silent then, until now, but I never assumed that they were satisfied.”

“So let me see if I got this right,” I said. “The EuroVamps are mad because Napoleon sold the Louisiana territory to the U.S. They sued and lost. They sent Peregrinus and his ménage a trois—or allowed them to come—to cause trouble and to see how easy it might be to take over. Maybe to test the waters and see how powerful you are. They also encouraged the Naturaleza vamps from Atlanta to try to take over. And now they’ve taken a new direction and plan to claim the land in person.”

Leo set his crystal glass down and actually clapped. “Excellent, mon chat.”

“Again. Not yours. Why didn’t you ever tell me all this?”

“As you say, you are not mine. When the binding did not take as planned, everything became—I believe you call it—‘need to know.’”

“But what if the Mithrans are here, in the States, but not in port. Maybe they came ashore in Mobile or Charleston or one of the Texas ports, and only a few came to NOLA. All the rest would need to get here is charter a bus, a jet, or a line of limos. They could get here overnight, easy peasy. So a few could be here, and any vamp who has bloodlines or bloodkin here would be forced to offer them shelter, right? Like Grégoire?”

Leo’s expression underwent a series of complex changes. Stating that Grégoire was a potential danger to Leo was like throwing a boulder into a pond when we had just been skipping stones until now. “Grégoire is safe in the Council Chambers,” he said stiffly, all his feathers ruffled. Not that he had feathers. “But . . .” He took a slow breath, the fingers of one hand stroking the cuff at the other wrist, giving himself time to think. “I will move him to rooms adjoining mine. Just in case one of the Capetian line arrives at the Council Chambers unexpectedly.”

I knew who Leo feared the most. Grégoire’s Valois blood-sire. Le Bâtard was a bastard of royal blood, a pedophile like Berkins. Leo’s lover and Le Bâtard had a nasty, evil, and complicated relationship. Yeah. Things were coming together. “Would Grégoire know if Le Bâtard arrived in New Orleans? Would he tell you if Le Bâtard didn’t want him to? Could Le Bâtard use mind games to force Grégoire to help him get into vamp HQ?”

Leo shrugged, the gesture still elegant, though his face told of uncertainty in his own judgment and insecurity about his loved ones. “Grégoire and I drank from each other upon rising. I have asked Katie to join us for the duration. It would be far better if my home was ready for habitation.”

“Yeah. I know.” If I sounded sarcastic, it was because Leo’s Certificate of Occupancy had been requested and denied twice, each time for some minor offense after Leo had tried to bribe his way into getting the CO early. That bribery attempt had resulted in one complication after another. Now the house sat empty and Leo was stuck in HQ. Which meant that he’d have to put two hundred people up in some hotel. Royal progress as punishment. He’d be bankrupt in no time keeping them satisfied.

“Would they go through the proper channels?” Eli asked. “Would they have passports or visas? Or are they likely to sneak in?”

“They’re royalty,” I volunteered, thinking it through. “Modern law means nothing to them. Homeland Security, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, trying to control Mithrans who ruled the world before the Western Hemisphere was ever discovered by Europeans? They’d blow raspberries at the idea of being forced to follow modern laws.”

“Raspberries?” Leo asked.

I blew a mouth fart. Leo laughed, looking delighted. “Excellent. Please tell me you will do that when the Europeans arrive.”

“To their faces,” I agreed.

“It is unlikely that they would feel obliged to follow laws of any kind,” Leo said. “See how far my Jane has come. She thinks in terms of royalty now. My Enforcer,” he amended before I could complain, lifting a palm in a gesture for peace.

Faker. “So if they sailed from France,” I said, “aboard an unknown boat, and got off at an unknown port, on an unknown date, then they could be anywhere.”

“But not in the city in any numbers,” Leo said.