“What about me? I’m not even a vampire and I get to meet this elusive member of royalty.” Nerissa giggled, and then her smile fell away. “I’m afraid, Menolly. What if . . . what if she wants to turn me or something like that?”
The thought had actually crossed my mind, but I had written it off. “If she wanted to do that, both she and Roman know that I’d fight to the death. And given that we just destroyed an army with dragons, I have a feeling she might have some new respect for me. I don’t think that’s it. But I’ll do whatever I need to in order to protect you.”
And with that, we headed upstairs.
Of course, the others made a brouhaha about our looks, but Camille and Delilah—who I thought would be the loudest—were oddly reticent.
Camille motioned me aside. “I don’t like this. Something’s up.”
“I know, but there’s not much I can do about whatever it is. I think we’ll be okay. I trust Roman—I have to, after all we’ve gone through.” I glanced back at Nerissa. “Do me a favor? Lend her something silver she can wear inside her dress. Some charm or something that might help if . . . if something happens to me.”
“Wait here.” Camille raced upstairs and when she returned, she took Nerissa aside. Nerissa glanced over at me, then nodded as she accepted something from Camille. She went in the bathroom and when she came out, I leaned to kiss her but the silver on her body stopped me short. Satisfied, we made our good-byes and headed out.
“I hate driving in a gown like this.” I hiked it up so that my legs were free to move as needed.
Nerissa laughed. “You just don’t like dresses, period.”
“Well, that’s true. What did Camille lend you?”
“She gave me a silver pin that I fastened inside my bra. She said it belonged to your mother and that it was mine now. It’s shaped like a grapevine.” A soft smile played over Nerissa’s face. “You asked her to, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I did. And yes, that pin belonged to our mother.” Even softer, “It also belonged to me, before I was turned. After that, since I could no longer touch it, I gave it to Camille. I’m glad she chose that—it feels like a good omen.” I wasn’t much for omens, but sometimes, something just hit right and I knew there was significance to it.
“I love it, and I love having something that belonged to you before . . . well . . . and to your family.” Nerissa paused. As I shifted gears and maneuvered onto the street that would lead us to Roman’s mansion, she let out a long sigh. “I wish we could just go about our lives. I want the war to be over. I want to settle down with you and just live life.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” I flashed her a grin. “Yes, I’ve actually been thinking over the future. What do you think . . . when—not if, but when—we defeat Shadow Wing, what if we buy a house of our own? Camille and her men will be moving soon enough, along with Vanzir. Delilah loves our house, so she could live there with Shade and Rozurial. After all, at some point the Autumn Lord is going to decide it’s time for her to have his child.” It hurt me to say it . . . I loved the house as much as Delilah, but I wanted Nerissa to know I was all in. That I was looking forward to life with just her.
But she turned around and surprised me as well. “I like the idea, but you know what? What about if we stay there? Delilah’s never been that great with running a household, and I don’t think she particularly enjoys the responsibility. You and I are good at that sort of thing. There’s room enough for all of us, and once Camille leaves, we could fix up the second floor to be an office for me, and a guest room. If you don’t think Kitten would mind.”
I pulled to a stop in front of Roman’s mansion, a crazy grin spreading across my face. “That makes tonight almost bearable. I love that house, to be honest, and that you love it as well makes me very happy.” As I glanced up at the four-story mansion that loomed over us, I shivered. “Let’s get this over with. Probably nothing to worry about, but you know . . .”
“I know,” she murmured. And as the valet took my keys, we approached the fortress of vampire nobility.
* * *
The house, four stories high, was surrounded by a long porch that encircled the entire mansion. Gleaming columns lined the porch, Corinthian in nature, and the steps leading up were marble. We rang the bell and a maid answered, curtseying deeply. She was a vampire, dressed very crisp, and the moment she saw me, she knelt in a low bow. By now, Roman’s staff knew who I was, and I’d made the effort to learn as many of their names as possible.
“Good evening, Elthea.” I smiled at her. She was a young vampire and very nervous.
“Lady Menolly, good evening.” She turned to Nerissa. “Madame Nerissa, if I may presume?”
So Roman had told them we were both on the way.
Nerissa looked a little out of her element but nodded graciously. “Yes, I’m Nerissa.”
“Please come in. The Master has asked me to escort you to the Grand Parlor.”
The Grand Parlor? That was what Roman called a small ballroom-slash-parlor that he held soirees in. And I do mean soirees. Roman didn’t throw just any run-of-the-mill parties. He produced events. Balls. Soirees. Evenings of symphony or small theatrical parties. The smaller events were held in the Grand Parlor. The larger ones were in the Grand Ballroom.
Nerissa’s eyes widened as we followed Elthea through the house. Roman was also a collector, and—much like Carter—his house was overflowing with exquisite objets d’art. He almost crossed the line into excess, but it never quite bordered on gaudy. I found it rather claustrophobic, but he loved it and given his nature, it seemed natural for him to live in what was essentially an art gallery.
“I can’t imagine what his insurance rates run to cover all this.” Her whisper was light, but Elthea heard it and she glanced back at us, a faint smile on her face. Nerissa blushed, and I reached for her hand, but the moment I stepped near her, a burning sensation repelled me. The silver. Well, at least it was doing its job.
We came to a set of double doors and Elthea opened them, giving Nerissa a wide berth as we entered the room. The massive room had a marble floor, highly polished, with tapestries on the walls. Crimson drapes were held back by gold tasseled pulls. The art on the walls was original—I knew that much—and harked back to an age long before either my time or Nerissa’s. Divans and fainting couches; elegant, ornate tables that held vases with a single flower, or fruit bowls, or statuary—all were scattered about the room in a deliberate and yet effortless fashion. A massive fireplace with a hearth that had to have been at least six feet wide and at least as tall rose along the back wall. The mantel was polished ebony, like most of the wood.
“Lady Menolly and Madame Nerissa,” the maid announced.
Roman was waiting at the opposite end, near the fireplace. He turned, and—seeing us—blurred very faintly and the next second was at our side.
“Thank you, Elthea. You may go.” He was casually dismissive, but Elthea gave him a radiant smile and dropped in a low curtsey.
“Yes, Sire.”
So, Roman was her sire. That made sense. And she was obviously enraptured with him. Although he was my sire, and I understood the desire to please, it occurred to me that having been sired once before had taken the edge off that hunger.
“Menolly, Nerissa . . . you are both lovely tonight. Absolutely stunning.” He lifted my hand to his lips, kissing it gently. But as Nerissa reluctantly handed him her hand when he held out his own, he jerked back, eyes flaring crimson. The blood calmed, but he cocked his head. “You dare to wear silver in my house?”
I realized what a faux pas I had made. “It’s my fault. I asked her to.” I paused as he turned to me, looking perplexed. “I . . . I was afraid you and your mother might want to turn her.” The moment I said it, I realized we had been way off the mark in our fears because Roman gave me a what-the-fuck look and started to laugh.
“Oh, m
y love. If I wanted to turn your wife, I would have done so long ago and without all this pomp and circumstance. Mother has no such intentions either, I give you my word of honor. But if you are wise, Nerissa, you will remove your charm or whatever you have and leave it in the guest bathroom until you leave. We will not touch it, I guarantee you that.” He snorted then, shaking his head. “Hurry now. I have a good sense of humor. My mother . . . does not.”
Nerissa glanced at me, eyes wide.
“I think you’d better do as he says. This wasn’t the brightest idea I ever came up with.”
“I think you’re right.” Nerissa turned and, heading in the direction Roman pointed her, ran as quickly as she could, her skirts swirling around her long legs in a flurry of blues.
When she had vanished through the door, I turned back to Roman. “All right. What’s this about? I don’t like being in the dark, and I don’t like that my wife is terrified because she was called here, too.” I didn’t like being afraid either. There had been far too much to fear lately. “We’ve had a rough week.”
“So I heard through the grapevine. So, you like riding dragons, my love?” He smiled again, a toothy grin, but then quickly sobered. “I cannot tell you what my mother asks. I know what it is, but Blood Wyne swore me to silence until she gets here. But please believe me, neither you nor Nerissa are in danger. Quite the opposite.” He pressed my hand to his lips once again, then crossed to a table with a bottle of wine on it. A bottle of blood sat there, too, and he poured three goblets of that, then a goblet of wine.
Curious now, I was still apprehensive, but Roman had never lied to me and I had no reason to believe he would start now. I accepted the goblet of blood and sipped delicately. It was good, very good, and I cocked my head, looking at him.
“You might say, a rare vintage.”
I hesitated, staring into the chalice of blood. “That could mean a lot of things.”
“It could, but please, don’t worry. The blood was given voluntarily. It’s from a succubus, so it will be sweeter than wine.” He winked. “Their blood is always a delicate mix.”
I nodded. Blood did vary, depending on species, depending on the race. Fae blood was sweeter than human, human far more appealing than goblin. Demon blood could have an odd effect on vampires. The blood of a drunk wouldn’t get a vampire drunk, but it wasn’t as tasty as the blood of someone who was healthy and not under the influence.
Nerissa reappeared. She held out her hand to Roman and he took her fingers in his, bowing as he kissed the top of her hand. He flickered his gaze up to her and winked at her.
“Much better, my dear. You taste far sweeter without the silver. And I give you my word, you do not need it in my house. If anyone were to even attempt to attack you, I would garrote them myself. There would be no forgiveness for such an act.” His eyes grew cold as ice—they were pale as frost, anyway, and now the irises almost vanished. “You are my consort’s wife. You will never be abused in this house.”
Nerissa stared at him straight on, usually a no-no when it comes to vampires. “I believe you, regardless of the weirdness that has happened between us at times.”
“I need you to believe me, and I want you to remember this when my mother gets here.”
And once again, we were back to nerves. We made small talk, mostly me talking about the dragons and Telazhar, for another few minutes before a soft bell sounded—tinkling like glass. Roman held up his hand.
“Please, come into my office. Bring your goblets. My mother is here.” He turned to Nerissa. “I know you must be nervous. Curtsey low when you meet her, and address her as Your Majesty. Her full title is Her Majesty Blood Wyne, Queen of the Crimson Veil and the Vampire Nation. Take her lead. If she decides to play it informal, she will tell us.”
And with that, he led us into a private office that was off one side of the Grand Parlor. Just as lavish, the ornate furniture was white with gold trim. It was rococo, late baroque in style, embellished with flourishes and engravings. The end tables were marble-topped, the sofa and love seat upholstered in white. The desk was especially large, fit for a dandy, with gold trim on every drawer. Plants flourished around the room, and the carpeting was white, which led me to believe that either Roman never fed in this room or he had an impeccable carpet cleaner and maid. Most likely the latter.
And in the center of the room, as we entered, stood Blood Wyne, waiting.
The Queen of the Crimson Veil was like a statue, carved from the whitest bar of Ivory soap. She was colorless, soft, ivory white in skin and with eyes the same frost color that Roman had, with almost no delineation marking the separation of iris to the whites of her eyes. She had been alive for so long that all pigment had faded from her body. Her hair, black that was streaked with white, coiled in a towering braid atop her head. She was wearing a gold tiara, inset with rubies and diamonds.
Her dress was woven gold, beaded with crimson. The neckline was low and straight, and her cleavage swelled gently over the top. The waist cinched in tight, and the skirts flowed out over a mass of crinolines, or a hoop—I wasn’t sure which—to trail along the ground. The sleeves of the dress puffed out on top, fitting snugly around her forearms.
Roman immediately swept into a deep kneel in front of her, and Nerissa and I curtsied low to the ground, holding the pose until she examined us for a moment.
“Rise.” The single word resonated through the room. Her voice was low and throaty, rich with power and years of command.
As we straightened up, she held out her hand and Roman quickly moved to kiss it. “Your Majesty, we are honored by your presence.”
Blood Wyne looked past him to me. “Menolly, you are looking well.” Her eyes flickered over to Nerissa and her nostrils flared for just a second. “Introduce me?”
I almost tripped over my tongue in my haste to obey. “Your Majesty, may I introduce my wife, Nerissa Shale? Nerissa, this is Her Majesty, Blood Wyne, Queen of the Crimson Veil and the Vampire Nation.”
I wasn’t sure if my protocol was correct—I could never remember who you were supposed to introduce to whom, in terms of importance. I knew there was some rule about it, but I had never paid much attention to Miss Manners or Emily Post, and I hoped that Blood Wyne hadn’t either.
If I screwed up, the Queen didn’t mention it. She turned to Nerissa, who again curtsied. “So, this is the wife of my son’s consort. You are a pretty thing, that I will say.” She ran her gaze up and down Nerissa like she was judging a beauty contest. “What are you again, girl?”
If she was offended, Nerissa was cautious not to show it. “I’m a werepuma, Your Majesty. I come from the Rainier Puma Pride.” She flashed me a look that said, You owe me so big. I gave her the slightest of nods. I’d be paying for this one for a long time, and rightly so.
“A werepuma. Well, now. What does your family think of your marriage to a vampire? I had thought—perhaps my knowledge is out of date—that Weres were not all that fond of vampires.” Blood Wyne began to circle Nerissa, nodding to herself.
I glanced at Roman, who simply stared at the ceiling. Yeah, he didn’t want to get into it either and as much as I owed Nerissa for tonight, he was going to owe us ever so much more. I planned to make him pay and pay good. He must have felt my stare because he shuffled and glanced at me, then back to his mother.
Nerissa looked like Bambi caught in the headlights. “My family . . . we aren’t on speaking terms. They didn’t approve of my choice, so I walked away and joined my wife’s family instead.” Her voice was a little higher than usual, but she was managing to hold her composure under Blood Wyne’s scrutiny.
But I was beginning to get irritated. “Your Majesty, my wife is nervous. I would ask of you . . .” I paused. How could I best ask the Queen of Vampires to back off from upsetting my wife without causing a ruckus?
Blood Wyne’s lips curled into a smile as she turned to me. “You are protec
tive of your mate. This is a good thing.” And then she laughed—not gently, but with a sincere touch of mirth. “I will relent. Nerissa, you are a credit to your wife, and to your loyalties. It must be difficult when forced to choose between one’s heart and one’s familial duty. Which is precisely the reason I invited you here, today. I know all about your background—don’t look so surprised,” the Queen added when Nerissa bristled. “Of course I would check into anyone who has access to my son’s personal affairs. As his consort’s wife, you have precisely that access.”
Nerissa glanced over at me, glowering a little, but she shrugged. “You have a point.” And then added hastily, “Your Majesty.”
“Formalities are for first impressions and throne rooms. You need not add my title every time you speak to me. I won’t have your head—or your throat—if you forget.” And with that, the strange little soiree relaxed a bit. “I asked you both here for a reason. I doubt either of you will like it, but I hope you understand. And perhaps, in time, you will come to appreciate the value of what I am about to request of you.”
Annnnd . . . here it came. Blood Wyne never did anything without a reason—it was beyond her at this point in her existence. So we were about to get a firsthand show in the way she manipulated events. I had seen it in the past, and I had the feeling we were about to get the full monty, so to speak.
“Be seated.” She herself took a seat behind Roman’s desk. He sat with us, on my right side, with Nerissa on my left, on the sofa.
I reached for Nerissa’s hand. She was shaking and I didn’t blame her. While I no longer feared they would try to turn Nerissa or dissolve our marriage, whatever she was about to ask wouldn’t be something as simple as, Could you take my dog for a walk?
“So . . . as you know, the recent spate of hate crimes has increased our need to press for vampire rights in this nation. Worldwide, actually, but for the purposes of this conversation, we will limit our discussion to this country.” Blood Wyne paused, and we waited. “Menolly, you have a great deal of pull in this city. And, I suspect, the capacity for influence far beyond the confines of Seattle. Your Otherworld ties are invaluable.”
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