“The Prince of Florence to see his excellency.” Cato nodded in William’s direction.
One of the guards opened the door while another escorted Cato, Gaius, and the Prince inside.
The Roman’s throne room was smaller than the room occupied by Cato, but far more elaborate. The floor was covered with mosaic tile, and the walls and ceiling decorated with elaborate frescoes. The frescoes appeared to depict ancient Rome, populated as they were by men in togas and classical architecture. But on closer inspection, each scene included the same handsome, dark-haired figure, dressed in imperial purple.
Many of the images praised his exploits and his taste for young, beautiful men. William’s own transformation was featured in one of the panels to the right of the door, complete with his likeness dressed in the robes of a Dominican.
The Prince glanced at it and looked elsewhere.
“The Prince of Florence, your excellency.” Cato addressed the Roman in Latin, bowing deeply.
The room itself was completely dark, with the exception of two pillars of flame that flanked a short gold staircase ascending to an ornate throne.
The figure who sat on the throne was robed in purple, his head wreathed with gold laurel leaves. His eyes were closed, and he sat perfectly still, like a statue.
“You are dismissed.” The Roman’s voice was low, his accent ancient.
Cato bowed. “If I may, your excellency, I think that—”
“Now.” The Roman’s voice deepened, but still, he did not open his eyes.
Cato scurried to the door, still facing the throne, and exited with Gaius.
The Roman pointed a pale finger at the Praetorians, who lifted their spears in salute and departed through the door, closing it behind them.
William went down on one knee before the throne. It was only then that the Roman opened his eyes.
In appearance, he was handsome, with dark hair clipped close to his head and dark, fiery eyes. His nose was long and prominent, his cheekbones high, his jaw square. If one hadn’t known he was a vampyre, one might have marked his age at about thirty.
“My son.” The Roman adjusted his toga in order to bare his right arm.
William climbed the steps to the throne. The two vampyres clasped arms.
The Roman lifted William’s chin and kissed him.
“Father,” William whispered.
The Roman released his arm. “I was not expecting you.”
“I apologize.” William descended the steps to stand between the pillars of flame. “I should have sent word of my visit.”
“Notice is not required. Not by you.” The Roman gazed at him shrewdly. “But I perceive this is not a familial visit.”
“I’m afraid not. My visit concerns the Curia.” William withdrew a copy of the letter Father Kavanaugh had written to him. He held it out.
The Roman waved it aside. “Tell me.”
“For some time the Curia have been watching Florence. Now they are threatening me and have ordered me to surrender my pet.”
The Roman’s eyebrows lifted. “The Curia concerned about a pet? What madness is this?”
“The pet in question is a daughter of sorts to one of the priests.”
The Roman chuckled. “Ah, yes. The Church extols the virtue of chastity, but behind their walls there is no such practice. So you’ve taken the daughter of a priest. This is not without precedent.”
William averted his eyes and folded the letter carefully, placing it inside his pocket.
“It is always a pleasure to be in your company, Father. I have stayed away too long. But you are correct. There is more.”
“Proceed.”
William cleared this throat. “The pet is a pretext. I believe the Curia desires to weaken your authority, and to do so, they have targeted Florence.”
The Roman lifted his arms. “The Curia has desired to weaken my authority for centuries. Yet, here I sit. The solution to your problem is clear: remove the pretext and entrench your position.”
William lowered his gaze. “Yes, Father. But if the Curia is successful in this matter, what is to prevent them from additional demands? Or an unprovoked attack?”
The Roman regarded the gold signet ring of Rome, which he wore on his right hand. “I grew tired of petty squabbles years ago. That is why my lieutenant oversees such matters.”
“I apologize, Father.” William tried very hard not to give expression to his agitation. “But I believe the Curia’s tactic is to make an example of Florence, in order to bring the other Italian principalities to heel. If they can transform Florence into Prague, without your intervention, what’s to prevent them from decimating the other principalities?”
“Our enemy has yet to move against an Italian city since we signed the treaty.”
William made eye contact with his maker. “Let not Florence be the first.”
“What is your recommendation?”
“I am approaching my last centuries. Father, I ask that you allow me to serve out my final years as Prince of Florence and that you defend us against the Curia.”
The Roman’s eyes searched William’s.
“Are you asking as the Prince of Florence? Or as my son?”
William’s fingers curled into fists. “Your son, if necessary.”
The Roman frowned. “I have not seen you for some time. Now you appear, begging favors.”
“Pardon, your excellency. I mean no disrespect.” William appeared contrite. “Florence is a jewel and one that many of my neighbors covet. I have traveled little during my time as prince.”
The Roman blinked. “You are a favorite of mine; it is true. As you say, Florence is a jewel. Are you certain your time is short?”
“You made me in 1274. My thousand years approaches.”
The Roman hummed. “Centuries come, centuries go. When one has forever, the marking of time seems immaterial. Since I have escaped the curse and you are my offspring, perhaps you will escape the curse also?”
William shook his head sadly. “You are the great exception, Father.”
The Roman hummed again, his brow furrowed.
At length, his expression brightened. “I had forgotten how much I enjoy your company.”
“As I enjoy yours.” William bowed.
“What were we discussing?”
William’s brow furrowed. “We were discussing the Curia.”
“What about the Curia?”
“The Curia is looking for an occasion to attack Florence, Father. They are demanding my pet.”
“A ridiculous demand.” The Roman smiled. “Promise you will visit your father more than once every few centuries.”
“I promise,” the Prince vowed quickly.
“Good. I see no reason for you to acquiesce to the Curia’s commands. You are a prince and under my authority. You may decline their request for your pet, but do so with prudence. There is no need to antagonize them unnecessarily.” The Roman exposed his teeth. “I admit you’ve made me curious. Tell me, is your pet beautiful? I should like to see it.”
In an unguarded instant, William’s eyes grew wide. He dropped his gaze to the stones at his feet. “I serve you, Father. Of course I could bring my pet to you. But I doubt you would find her appealing.”
“Her? Ah, yes. I forgot.” The Roman examined William’s bowed head. “I take it you have a fondness for this one.”
“I’ve had her but a short while.”
“I wonder.” The Roman adjusted the signet ring on his hand. “I have given you long life, power, wealth, and the jewel that is Florence. And I have never asked anything in return, except for loyalty. You are loyal to me, are you not?”
William lifted his gaze. “Without question.”
“And you serve me in all things?”
“All things, your excellency.”
/> The Roman leaned forward in his throne. “Then give me your pet.”
The Latin words echoed in the throne room.
The room fell silent.
Despite his best efforts, William’s heart beat irregularly.
“In comparison to everything I have given you, the request for your pet is very small.” The Roman’s nostrils flared, but his body remained still.
“Yes, Father.” William hid his face by bowing.
“Excellent.” The Roman leaned back in his chair. “Cato tells me your pet is here, in the palace, along with its sister. I want them both.”
William’s mind raced as he calculated how he could smuggle Raven out of the palace before the Roman realized the deception. It would be too risky to try to escape with both women. He’d have to leave Cara behind.
His innards twisted.
William genuflected and backed toward the door, hoping the Roman couldn’t scent his anxiety.
He opened the door, and the Praetorian guards snapped to attention on the other side.
“William,” the Roman’s voice echoed in the hall.
The Prince turned, ever so slowly.
“You may close the door.” The king motioned to William to approach the throne once again.
Confused, he did as he was ordered, then stopped before the steps and knelt.
The Roman’s gaze flickered to William’s hands before moving to his eyes. “I perceive strength in your attachment to me, Prince of Florence. But I also perceive weakness. How much do you value your pet?”
“She is but a pleasant diversion, Father.”
The Roman closed his eyes.
William’s entire body tensed. He could almost feel his bones bending beneath the strain of his muscles.
“Kiss me, my son.” The Roman opened his eyes.
William climbed the steps and kissed his maker.
The Roman stroked his head, running his fingers through the short, fair hair.
“Here is my beloved son,” he whispered. “Who would never betray me.”
He released William with a short caress, and the Prince withdrew down the steps.
“I shall speak to Cato about our conversation. You are free to deny the Curia’s request and to return with your pet to Florence.”
“Thank you, Father.” William knelt on the ground, relief coursing over him.
“You may inform the Curia that you consulted me, and I agreed with your decision.”
At this, William lifted his head.
The Roman was staring at the fresco of William’s transformation. “I have seen much since the second century. Kingdoms rise and fall; the strength of our enemies grows and wanes. But they cannot destroy me, and this they know.”
The Roman’s gaze sharpened as it fixed on his son. “Perhaps you will escape the curse. Perhaps not. Only time will tell.
“I have granted you this favor. You have pledged unfailing service. In the years you have left, I demand absolute obedience.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Good. Send Cato to me.”
William bowed and retreated to the door, watching as the Roman glanced at the fresco once again before closing his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Three
WILLIAM WAS TREMENDOUSLY DISQUIETED.
He had to resist the urge to run through the palace corridors, pull Raven into his arms, and flee. But the eyes of the Roman were upon him, he was certain, so he forced himself to follow Gaius at a moderate pace as the captain led him back to the room where Raven waited.
He’d accomplished his goal. He’d secured the support of the most powerful vampyre in Italy, if not the world. But undoubtedly, it had cost him. The Roman might be weary of public life, but he was no fool. He’d noticed William’s attachment to his pet. The sooner he was able to remove Raven from the palace, the better.
“Prepare to depart.” William barked to his soldiers, sparing them not a glance as he crossed to the adjoining room.
He opened the door and noted the two sisters curled up together on one of the couches, asleep.
He closed the door and stood over them, like a dark angel.
He barely remembered his own siblings, and he couldn’t imagine resting with them. He’d loved his family, especially his sisters and his mother. But family life in the thirteenth century under the tyranny of his father had not been warm or comfortable.
The bond between Raven and Cara was not something he understood.
He placed a light hand on Raven’s head. “Cassita.”
When she didn’t stir, he stroked her hair gently. “Cassita.”
Raven came awake with a start. “What? What is it?”
She pulled away from her slumbering sibling and sat up. Cara didn’t move.
“The Roman has taken our side.” William caressed Raven’s face. “We must contact your priest as soon as possible and make arrangements to deliver Cara to him.”
“Will she be safe?” Raven eyed Cara with concern.
“Much as it pains me to say it, she is more vulnerable to vampyres than to the Curia. The Curia won’t kill her.” William’s expression hardened. “Your priest will be angry that I refuse to give you up. He may try to take you by force. We must be prepared.”
“I’m not worried about myself; I’m worried about her,” Raven replied. “She will have to deal with losing Dan. I suppose forgetting about vampyres will be a mercy.”
“The Curia are not known for their mercy,” William sniped. “But she is a victim to them, which means they will protect her.
“We must go. The sooner they know we have the Roman’s support, the better.”
“I have my cell phone.” Raven retrieved it from the pocket of her jeans. “I’ll call Father. But I want you to remove the mind control from Cara first.”
“No.”
“William.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I shall remove the mind control when she joins your priest, but not a moment before. It’s too dangerous.”
Raven’s gaze dropped to his arms, to the muscles that contracted as his body tensed.
“I thought the Roman agreed to help us.”
“He did.”
She frowned. “Then why are we still in danger?”
As if by instinct, William glanced around the room. But he and the women were alone.
“The Roman seems to have taken an interest in my pet. He asked to meet you and your sister.”
Raven shifted backward on the couch. “I don’t want to meet him.”
“No, you do not.” William passed a hand over his mouth in agitation.
“Will he keep us here?”
“At the moment, we are free to leave. But we should arrange to deliver Cara to your priest as soon as possible.”
Raven stood. She placed her hand at the back of his neck, drawing his forehead down to meet hers.
“Thank you.”
He didn’t respond.
“I love you,” she pressed.
“Je t’aim.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his body.
“Thank you for protecting us.” She kissed the corners of his mouth before centering her lips on his. “I trust you.”
“You are the only trust that exists in my world.” He spoke against her mouth. “I trust no one else.”
He kissed her deeply, angling his head. Just as quickly, he released her, kissing her forehead. “We need to contact your priest.”
“Okay.” She lifted her cell phone, took a deep breath, and dialed a number.
The priest answered on the third ring. “Raven?”
“Father? I’m in Rome with Cara. We need to see you.”
The journey from the Palatine Hill to the Vatican was not a long one, only about five kilometers. Gaius and a few of his soldiers accompa
nied the Florentines up Via della Conciliazione toward the border between Italy and Vatican City. Beyond this point no vampyre dared go, as the entire city state was built on holy ground.
Within this walled enclave, the Curia trained, plotted, and conducted its business in secret, protected by the public face of the Vatican.
It was a few hours before sunrise, and the city of Rome remained shrouded in darkness. The great Basilica of St. Peter shone like a beacon, while the piazza in front of it was only dimly illuminated. Unfortunately for the vampyres that approached on foot, the accompanying shadows were not large enough to conceal them.
The Prince sniffed the air, his gaze drawn to the rooftops of the buildings that rose on either side of the street.
“Curia,” he whispered, pointing with his chin at their unseen enemies.
In reaction, Gaius barked, “Lift high the standard.”
The standard bearer raised the flag of the Roman, which featured a ring of laurel leaves on a black background. A she-wolf stood in the center of the ring.
Gaius addressed the Prince. “Our presence should guarantee your safety. But my orders are not to engage, unless attacked.”
“So noted.” The Prince extended his arm in friendship, and Gaius clasped it, hand to elbow.
The captain and his soldiers fell back, standing by one of the buildings while the Florentines marched toward Vatican City.
About one hundred meters from the border, the Prince commanded his soldiers to halt, arms at the ready. They were exposed in this position, but he was determined to show strength.
He turned to stare at the standard of the Roman flying nearby, knowing his every move was being watched.
Gaius saluted in return.
The Prince took Raven and Cara by the hand, one on each side, and began to walk toward the border.
“Whatever happens, don’t cross the line,” he whispered to Raven. “I cannot tread on holy ground.”
Raven’s eyebrows lifted, for she knew his last statement to be a lie. But she nodded.
He stopped short of the border, occupying a space where the light was dim. He released the women’s hands and took Cara by the shoulders. Fixing his eyes on hers, he spoke. “Cara, I release you. Your mind is your own again.”
The Roman Page 9
