“She escaped with me,” Ursula confessed. “Obviously, she feared for her life, too. We helped each other through the worst of our grief, and then parted ways.”
“How convenient.” Beauclair smirked. “If only she were here to confirm your fairy tale.”
“I am.”
The crowd buzzed with whispers and gasps as someone in the back of the theater stood. She walked down the center aisle, pausing just shy of the wall of white cloaks, and pushed back the hood of her robe.
I hardly recognized Annie Miller. She looked nothing like she had a week and a half ago when Mandy and I tricked her into leading us to Ursula’s safehouse. Her brunette waves were streaked with gray, and fine lines tightened the planes of her face.
“Let her pass,” Beauclair ordered.
Two of the council wardens turned sideways, opening a narrow path so she could reach the stage stairs. Beauclair directed Annie to the paneled booth to the left of the stage, and I surmised that was the designated spot for witness testimonies.
Ursula did not look thrilled to see her former accomplice. I couldn’t decide if she was worried about the woman’s safety or if the duchess feared she might offer the council some damning detail about their history. Beauclair didn’t seem happy she was there either, though I imagined her disdain had more to do with not being able to pin that death on Ursula, too.
“State your name and title for the council,” she ordered Annie.
“Heather Anne Miller, former potential scion to Morgan, Princess of House Lilith,” Annie said.
“You are aware of the price to have your mortal voice received by the council?”
“I am.”
“Annie, no!” Ursula tried to stand, but two of the white cloaks pushed her back down on her chair. “You don’t have to do this.”
Annie gave her a sad smile. “It’s the only thing left for me to do.”
A tender, heartbreaking look passed between the women. I’d seen a similar exchange the night Ursula was captured, the way she’d let Annie go as if it were for her own good. Later, at the duke’s manor, her hostility toward Annie had been an act to set her free before anyone realized who she was. There was none of that pretense tonight. It was too late for it now.
Beauclair cleared her throat and tapped one of her red heels on the stage floor. This trial was no longer headed toward the gruesome end I could tell she’d been pining after. Her eager plans were about to be demolished, and everyone could tell. Still, Ursula’s resistance confused me.
“Do you confirm that the duchess is not responsible for the princess’s death?” Beauclair asked.
“I do,” Annie said. “She was with me on the beach. Morgan had sent us there together, hoping we might bond before the ceremony. When we returned home…we found our world in ruin.”
“Do you have anything else to contribute before your words are sealed in blood?”
I was about to turn to Dante to ask what that entailed when his hand closed over mine.
“It is not right, but it is the way things are done,” he said. “Whatever your feelings are on the matter, here and now is not the time to express them.”
My eyes went back to the stage in time to watch as one of the council wardens approached Annie. He unsheathed a dagger at his hip, and my heart leapt as I fought not to scream out a warning. When he offered her the handle of the blade, a small sigh of relief slipped from my lips.
Annie offered Ursula one last smile as she took the dagger. Then she angled the tip of it over her chest and used her opposite fist to drive it home into her heart.
* * * * *
Dante’s hold on my hand tightened until I remembered to breathe again.
“Her word is now sealed in blood,” he whispered in my ear. “Ursula is safe from the charge of Morgan’s death.”
I couldn’t find my voice yet, but I managed to dip my chin in a stiff nod.
Annie had known what she was doing, but it didn’t make it any less horrifying. I had to think that Morgan would have been proud of her—and of Ursula—for how much they’d come to care for one another. It seemed such a waste for that bond to end in such a way.
The duchess trembled as she watched a council warden carry Annie’s body from the stage. The vampire cradled her in his arms, and a thin trail of blood trickled down the front of his white cloak, spilling from the fatal wound in Annie’s chest. The dagger had not been removed yet, its ornate hilt pointing up at the ceiling.
Beauclair turned back to the audience and flipped her icy locks over her shoulder. “On to the second charge, and the most concerning in my humble opinion,” she said. “Are you aware of your scions’ many, many crimes since your…leave of absence?”
Ursula scoffed, but it sounded close to a sob. She’d just witnessed the only friend she’d had for the past twenty years offer up her life to save Ursula from whatever pain and suffering the council hoped to inflict.
“They do not commit their crimes at my behest,” she said. “I’ve not had contact with them since Morgan’s death.”
“The Vampiric High Council will consider your claim, but only if you produce your scions to receive judgement at this time.”
Ursula rolled her eyes up to meet Beauclair’s vindictive stare. “I told you that I searched for my scions, but I did not find them.”
“You possess the Eye of Blood, do you not?”
The duchess inhaled sharply. “You cannot mean for me to use my sire’s death blessing to betray my heirs.”
“But I do,” Beauclair said. “Unless you are willing to accept the consequences of their crimes in their stead?”
Ursula’s breath labored furiously, but she did not have a reply. Her shoulders sagged, and desperation sharpened her features. I’d used the Eye of Blood as freely as a parlor trick to soothe my boredom, and here she was, refraining from using it at all, as if it were a finite talent meant only to honor her late sire.
“The council will recess until tomorrow evening,” Beauclair announced to the audience. “This will give the accused the required time to blood call her scions for judgement.”
“By the blood!” the crowd cried out, officially ending the session.
Dante remained seated, his broody brow casting a shadow over his eyes as Ursula was led off stage, and the audience began to disperse. I guessed that they were either locals or had made arrangements to stay in one of House Beauclair’s hotels for the duration of the trial.
“What’s a blood call?” I asked Dante, leaning closer so he could hear me over the din of bloodthirsty spectators. He regarded me with surprise as if he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone on the balcony.
“It is a ritual that allows a vampire who possesses the Eye of Blood to compel their scion or scions to come to them,” he said.
And just like that, the situation went from bad to worse. I considered biting my tongue, but I had promised to help him protect the duchess, and I intended to earn his royal favors fair and square.
“Then I suppose this is a bad time to tell you that Ursula might not be Scarlett’s sire.”
“Hell have mercy.” He turned in his seat and covered his face with one hand. “Did Ms. Starling happen to tell you whether or not it is possible for a vampire to die from heart failure?”
Chapter Eleven
Dante waited to resume our conversation until after we’d left the theater hall and had been ushered by a pair of white cloaks to the floor reserved for the royal family. The suites for the duke and duchess were located on one side of the hallway, with those prepared for the queen, prince, and Kassandra at the opposite end. The harem donors were given the rooms closest to the elevators and ice machines in the middle.
We arrived before everyone else, and to Lane’s disappointment, the duke stationed him out in the hallway with orders to knock as soon the duchess was delivered to her room. I wasn’t looking forward to the awkward explanation I could tell Dante was eager to drag out of me.
“Whatever would give you such a blasphem
ous idea?” he hissed as we retreated farther inside the suite and hopefully away from any keen ears.
“Scarlett bit me during the raid at the farmhouse last summer,” I said. “Wasn’t it in the report? I was sure I was questioned by—um—about it.”
“By Agent Knight, I presume?” He heaved an annoyed sigh. “I have reviewed his case files as far back as March of last year, and they are rather lacking in detail where you are concerned. It is as if he intentionally left out pertinent information or altered it to downplay your involvement. Why would he do such a thing for a vampling he hardly knew?”
I didn’t want to talk about Roman, and certainly not with the asshat who had snapped his neck right in front of me. This was not a conversation I would ever be ready for. It felt as if all my secrets were falling around me as quickly as a house of cards in an earthquake.
“After Scarlett bit me,”—I said, skipping backward over Dante’s rude detour—“she just knew that Raphael was my sire. She obviously has the Eye of Blood. Which must mean that someone other than Ursula sired her, right? Some other heir of House Lilith who happens to be dead?”
“This is not good.” He raked a hand through his hair, and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “The duchess was not ready for a scion, let alone two.”
“I don’t think that’s much of a secret.”
“But to be fair,” he said, pausing to give me a reprimanding scowl. “It was not something she asked for. She would have been content to live out her days scion-free as long as she had Morgan.”
“Seriously. Not a secret.” I stared back at him. “I know she was ordered to create a scion. I did have a case file on her, remember?”
The uber vampling treatment was beginning to annoy me. I hadn’t risen yesterday.
“Scarlett and Raphael were brother and sister as humans,” Dante said. A haughty grin lit his face when he realized he’d finally gotten me. “You do not know everything. How about this? Ursula sired Raphael first, and his sister a short time later. The queen gave her blessing, though it was an odd request, considering Ursula’s initial resistance. At the time, Ursula told me that Raphael had begged, and she took pity on him. Though perhaps she simply did not wish to admit how depraved her new vamplings were.”
“You don’t think that…” My skin crawled at the thought of Raphael and Scarlett sharing blood. It just seemed…wrong. “Ew.”
“I think Ursula suspects.” Dante sighed and shook his head.
“You think? She looked ready to piss herself when Lady Butt Hair ordered her to blood call them.”
Dante covered his mouth, but the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “I should warn you, if you ever say that to her face, she would be within her rights to challenge you to a blood duel.”
“I know, I know,” I said, waving him off. “Vampires don’t piss or engage in any other shameful human activities.”
“I meant your pet name for Beauclair.”
“If I ever come face-to-face with that woman, I’ll be the one pissing myself.”
He nodded. “She chills my blood, as well.”
“So. What’s going to happen to Ursula when she does this blood call thing, and no one shows up?”
“That is the question.” Dante peeled off his cloak and tossed it over a chair angled in front of a desk in the corner. Then he touched a finger to his chin and squinted at me. “Perhaps being Scarlett’s grandsire will be enough. We shall see.”
“We shall, shall we?” I folded my arms and cocked a brow at him. “You don’t think Scarlett showing up and bumping into me will be…problematic?”
I could just see it now. The little twat’s eyes would well with tears as she pointed an accusing finger, dubbing me Raphael’s murderer and scion in one. Then, the council would have a third victim to crucify—a third victim from House Lilith, no less.
“Pull up the hood of your cloak,” Dante said. I bristled at his commanding tone but did as he instructed, pushing my braid behind my shoulders. “In the dim light of the theater, that should suffice.”
He couldn’t be serious. All Scarlett would have to do is fire up her blood vision, and then the world would be her brightly lit, bloody oyster. A strange realization hit me.
“You don’t have the Eye of Blood. You don’t really know what all it entails, do you?”
“I am most certainly aware of what gifts the eye bestows, Ms. Skye.” Dante’s shoulders squared as if he were offended by the very idea that I might have some advantage over him—an advantage that was far more his birthright than mine. “If you think the hood is not enough, you are welcome to trade places with Lane and cower behind the balcony curtains.”
“Wonderful,” I shot back at him. “Then he can hold your hand the next time a witness commits harikari.”
Dante’s lips parted, and I saw the tips of his fangs drop a fraction lower than the rest of his pearly whites. We were both on edge and running out of solutions to a seemingly never-ending problem. Before he could bite back at me, Lane knocked on the door.
“The duchess has been delivered to her quarters, Your Grace,” his muffled voice called out. “The queen and prince, as well.”
“Good. Thank you,” Dante replied, eyes still fixed on me. His fangs retracted, and the scowl creasing his face softened until he’d regained the air of effortless authority I was more accustomed to.
It was becoming easier to get under his skin, and though it did me no favors, I reveled in the achievement. I would have enjoyed it even more if my life weren’t hanging so precariously in the balance.
“I must properly greet my sire. You will be staying in Ursula’s suite,” Dante said with equal relief and concern. “Try not to goad her into slaughtering you. Her night has been troublesome enough.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” I pinched the folds of my cloak and held it out to either side as I paid him a mocking curtsey.
“And have some blood soon,” he added. “You are more tolerable when you’re well fed.”
He stalked from the room before I could think of a witty retort. As I stepped out into the hallway, Lane and I both turned to watch the duke storm off toward the prince’s suite.
“Murph says you’re the one who finally found the duchess,” Lane said under his breath. “That true?”
“I had help.” Considering all the hell that had followed, I didn’t feel the need to take full credit for the feat.
“Well, I don’t blame you for not wanting to testify—if that’s what the boss is trying to get you to do.” He gave me a sympathetic frown. “The day I seal my word in blood will be the day the council seals my ass with a kiss.”
“The duke hasn’t asked me to testify. Yet.” I wondered if it would come to that and how he’d take it when I responded the same way Lane just had. I could count the people I’d lay down my life for on one hand, and Ursula was not among them.
As if she’d read my mind, a muffled shriek of outrage and the sound of something shattering against a wall came from her suite. Then, Murphy and Donnie were suddenly in the hallway with us.
“She’s all yours,” Murphy said, holding the door wide open. “I’ll go tell your wolf to get a blood pot together and head this way. Keep an eye out till then—she’s been working on her curveball.”
“Super.” I sighed and entered the domain of Ursula’s temper tantrum. Murphy closed the door behind me, barricading the cyclone of her wrath.
Inside the suite, the duchess paced before the window. Her lace dress and red curls reflected in a blur across the glass, breaking up the St. Louis skyline in the distance. The industrial light created an imposter dawn that backlit the clouds. Sunrise was at least six hours off. I loathed the idea of spending that much time trapped in a room with Ursula.
“I don’t care what arrangements Dante has made,” she hissed. “You will not be staying in this room with me. It is your fault I’m here in the first place.”
“I was following the duke’s orders, the same as I am now.” I folded my ar
ms and leaned against the doorframe. With the busted glass on the floor and the warpath she was treading between the beds and the window, it seemed the safest place to camp out.
“Did you enjoy watching Annie die, vampling?”
“I liked Annie,” I admitted. I hadn’t cared for the way she manhandled Mandy at the duchess’s safehouse, but she had also hoodwinked Arnie Moreau and roughed up one of his goons in her quest to find Scarlett and Raphael. She was tough and loyal, and she’d given her life for someone she loved—even if that someone was a hateful old bat.
“Liar!” Ursula picked up a ceramic bauble from the bedside table and heaved it across the room. It narrowly missed my head and smashed against the wall to the left of the door. Despite my effort to put on a brave face, I flinched as a shard scraped my cheek.
“I liked her a hell of a lot more than I like you right now,” I said, glowering at the duchess.
She reached for another knickknack, but there were none left. From the remains on the floor, I could see that she’d already taken care of a music box, a vase of white roses, and the unfortunate figurine she’d aimed at me—a fairy or butterfly, I guessed from a colorful bit of ceramic shaped like a monarch’s forewing.
“Look what you’ve made me do?” Ursula spat.
“My deepest apologies, Your Grace.” I hiked a thumb over my shoulder. “Would you like me to go fetch the trinkets from the duke’s room so you can have a go with those, too?”
“I will rip out your insolent throat!” She stalked across the room, arms outstretched and fingers curling.
The door swung open behind me, and I jerked around, unprepared to find the queen standing there. Ursula’s surprise trumped my own. She gasped and retreated a step, clenching her fists to her chest while I backed into the corner between the desk and door and pretended I was invisible.
Lili had removed the red cloak, revealing lace—see-through sleeves that drew a gothic pattern down her arms. The bodice cut a flat line across her breastbone, and above the material throbbed a blue vein that disappeared up the column of her neck. In one hand she held a sheathed dagger, and I had a moment of panic, wondering if she intended for one of us to make use of it the way Annie had.
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