This was the first time she’d seen any sort of act of affection from her father since she’d been a tiny pup. “I’d say the same to you. But I know you won’t.”
“Hug me, Marchessa. Tomorrow the world burns.”
She did, she hugged him tight with the certainty it would be the last time she saw him.
To Stefan she said, “Raise your hand to me again, and I’ll rip it off and mail it to Guam stuffed up your ass.”
He bared his teeth and she bared hers back.
Antony was suddenly beside her, gelato in hand. He nodded at Vittorio. “de la Luna,” he acknowledged.
“Rommulus.” The other wolf inclined his head. “Let’s go.” His posse followed him into the ballroom.
She shoved a bite of the chocolate gelato in her mouth.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m not going to see him again. I feel it in my bones.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He said, hug me Marchessa, tomorrow the world burns.”
“That’s probably the truth.”
“Why does it have to be?”
“Change is uncomfortable. It hurts. Even when it’s for the better.”
“Why can’t he just let go?”
“Maybe that’s all he has.” Antony put a reassuring arm around her.
She scarfed down the gelato to fortify herself and dabbed her lips on the napkin.
“You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Inside the ballroom, tables had been set up in a round formation. Wolves of the Round Table, Marchessa snarked to herself.
She was seated next to Antony, and Armand, having cast a glamor over himself was seated on the other side.
There was so much Alpha power in the room that three witches sat in the center of where the tables were gathered silently channeling the power to other avenues to keep the room from exploding.
As the other leaders entered, she watched as each went to his place and she studied them all in turn.
Blake Woolven and his uncle, Warner.
Her father who was already at his chair.
William DeVaughn, who came alone.
Grigori Remus, flanked by what seemed like a small mercenary army.
And Luc Ardennes, who brought with him Public Enemy Number One, Peter Breslin.
It was DeVaughn’s turn to lead the Council. He would get a vote, but only after the others had cast their votes, should it come to that.
He was strangely calm at the sight of the hunter. “I hope you have a good reason for bringing a hunter among us, Ardennes. In fact,” he said in a monotone voice. “You should give us that reason before we kill you both.”
“He’s been Turned. By her.” He pointed at Marchessa.
“That’s still not a good reason to bring our sworn enemy into these secret proceedings,” Grigori offered in that same unaffected tone.
“I want you to see what she did before you take my pack from me. Before you murder me,” Luc snarled.
“Challenge to single combat is not murder,” Blake responded.
“Isn’t it? When it’s from Rommulus.”
“You didn’t have a problem with it fifty years ago when Remus challenged the old DeVaughn,” Blake reminded him. “So it’s murder when it suits you.”
“It’s obvious you’ve already decided where your loyalties lie,” Luc snarled.
“It’s obvious that I think you’re an honorless cur with no love for his own kind. It’s obvious I think you’re a murderer. It’s obvious that I think a challenge to single combat is too good for you. It’s obvious that for your crimes against me, against mine, and against the six great nations, you should be beheaded and burned to ash. That’s what’s obvious, Ardennes.”
“Way to sugar coat it,” Grigori said.
Blake shrugged.
DeVaughn sighed. “Business we’re here to discuss. It’s been brought to our attention that Luc Ardennes is in business with a hunter. If you’ll look at your packets, the financials are all there.”
Luc growled. “This is a witch hunt.”
The witches in the middle flipped him off.
“You will be heard, Ardennes. When it is your turn. Don’t force me to have the witches muzzle you. They’re already irritable.”
With a rustling of paper, Grigori spoke again. “So he’s in business with Breslin. What does this mean for us? Can’t we do business with who we choose?”
“Always the devil’s advocate, Grigori. No, we can’t do business with who we choose if it endangers the nations. “You know that.”
“One could argue that Turning a hunter might endanger the nations,” Grigori eyed her.
“One might. And if one does, one will deal with me,” Antony said calmly.
“One will deal with the perpetrator. If that includes you, we’ll do as we must,” DeVaughn replied.
“I vote that Luc Ardennes has long abused his status as Alpha. He’s not fit to lead the Ardennes pack and challenge him to single combat for that right.”
DeVaughn nodded, seemingly bored with the exchange. “Should you win, who do you choose to lead them?”
“My son. Armand Ardennes Rommulus.”
“Does anyone object to the challenge?” DeVaughn asked.
“I do,” Grigori said.
Antony shot him a glare that could melt steel.
“Why?” Woolven asked.
Her father was quiet through the proceedings. She kept waiting for him to speak up, but he never did.
“Because it’s not our place to infringe on the freedoms of the packs. If he chooses to run his pack into the ground, it’s his place. Our own ethos says one of his own must rise and take his power from him.”
“Then I challenge him,” Armand said, stone-faced.
“You are Rommulus,” Stefan spoke.
“I am both.” His voice echoed with power that was more than that of the Alpha. “My mother was Ardennes. By her lineage, I challenge you, Luc Ardennes. For right of the Ardennes Alpha.”
She could feel the pride Antony had in his son at that moment.
“Then before we go any further, let us see to this. As long as there is a challenger, a nation may have no voice in the Council,” Blake was quick to highlight the law.
Burly guards pulled heavy beams down over the doors and the witches began chanting anew. They hovered and then rose above the group.
Luc and Armand entered the space the witches once occupied.
Armand transformed and kept the glamor around himself. He looked like any other wolf did in their bipedal form.
Marchessa was so proud of him. Almost as if he were her own son.
Luc refused to transform. She’d heard he’d made it a law, their pack was not permitted to transform. The penalty was death.
Instead, he pulled out razor sharp, silver blades.
She saw the hunger in Breslin’s eyes. He liked this. He wanted more mayhem and pain. She should’ve just popped his head off.
Luc swung first.
Armand blocked the silver blade with his claw, snapping it in half, but the other blade pierced his side and with his cry of pain, his glamour fell like a curtain at a peep show.
A collective gasp sounded in the room and he used the distraction to gut the man with his other claws, the silvery blades tearing up through to his throat. He dropped the smoking corpse and met each pair of eyes around the tables in turn before speaking. “I am Armand Rommulus Ardennes. I am the Ardennes Alpha. Do any challenge my claim?”
Antony inhaled sharply and took her hand under the table. This was emotional for him. He was saying goodbye to his boy and hello to the Alpha he’d become.
“No challengers.” DeVaughn nodded. “Alpha Ardennes, take your seat at the Council.”
The glamour slipped back into place like a mask.
And Peter Breslin stood, abandoned and forsaken amongst his enemies.
She had to give him a grudging nod of respect because in that ter
rifying moment, she scented no fear from him.
“And what about me?” Peter spoke to the group, the wound on his neck just an angry red imprint.
“What is your complaint?” DeVaughn.
“I’ve been Turned against my will. I’m immune to silver. Believe me, I tried to end it all.”
“Ending it all. How dramatic for you,” Marchessa drawled.
“I know this is your second Council Marchessa, but we don’t mock those who come to us for help,” Grigori corrected her.
“Why not? How many of our kind has he killed?”
“Now, he is our kind thanks to you. So as our kind, isn’t he entitled to all the rights and benefits under the law? If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t have made him.”
“You can’t argue with that,” Vittorio said.
“Would you like to see how she made me?” Peter held up the phone.
“May I speak?” Marchessa looked at DeVaughn. She didn’t want to piss him off, but this was bullshit.
“Yes. You have a right to defend yourself.”
“Please be aware that when he made this video, I was under extreme duress. He’d kidnapped me from the streets of Rome, tied me up, and was going to kill me.”
“So noted into record,” DeVaughn said.
She’d kind of thought there would be more of a reaction. There was so much more she wanted to say, but she bit her tongue.
The witches cast the images from the phone up on the long white wall for all to watch.
Marchessa had to say that she looked pretty damn terrifying. She was the stuff of nightmares.
Antony squeezed her hand.
She could feel that he was proud of her.
So was Armand.
Their approval was like warm rays of sunshine.
Her father’s gaze was different, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her.
When the images stopped, Grigori asked, “What do you want of the Council?”
“Her. My weapons made her. Let me study her. Make a serum. You can’t have wolves who are immune to silver running around, now can you? Especially not one like me.”
“Not your weapons, Breslin. Mine. Vittorio de la Luna stole something my company was working on. Proprietary tech and sold it to Ardennes, who in turn gave it to Breslin,” Blake Woolven said.
“What recompense do you seek for that?” DeVaughn asked.
“I’ll ask for none, if Marchessa is left in peace.”
“Does your husband know that, Marchessa? Does he know you were Woolven’s lover? She’s compromised the Council,” Vittorio spat.
“Speak against my mate again,” Antony warned.
“Well, do you?” Vittorio demanded.
“I know everything about her. She is mine, I am hers. The only reason you breathe is because she wishes it.”
“I’m afraid Marchessa can’t be left in peace, as you said, Woolven.” Grigori spoke. “She violated a convention of the Council. She’s making monsters at will. She’s out of control. She’s a danger to the nations.”
Antony stiffened and froze, his rage caught in a moment of time like a fossil. In a thousand year, the imprint of his fury would still be felt in that place. “I will challenge any wolf to single combat who dares.”
“I know she’s your mate, but she’s a danger. Can’t you see it?”
Marchessa couldn’t stand the thought of war because of her. But that’s where this was headed. Her father knew it. How had he known?
Grigori. He’d always been on their side. He wanted something that Antony had. What was it?
“It’s to a vote. Marchessa Rommulus is danger to the nations. So say you, Ardennes?”
“No,” Armand declared with force.
“So say you de la Luna?”
“Aye.”
And so the world burned.
“So say you, Remus?”
“Aye.”
“So say you, Woolven?”
“No,” Blake said.
“So say you, Rommulus?”
“No.”
“After seeing the footage, I must say aye, she is a danger to the nations. And as it is my turn to sit, to command these proceedings, it is also my vote that is the tie-breaker. Marchessa Rommulus, it is the finding of this Council that you be beheaded and burned until you are ash. This sentence shall be carried out immediately.” He looked at Antony. “You will comply, or there will be war.”
“Then it is to be war,” Antony threw the table at DeVaughn and transformed into his bipedal form, the great and terrible black beast she’d seen in Mexico. He roared. “Let it come!”
Blake and Warner stood and calmly walked to their side of the room. “We stand with Rommulus.”
Armand dropped his glamour. “Ardennes stands with Rommulus.”
The witches stopped their chanting and the opposing faction was gathered into a tight circle of protective magic.
“I knew we should’ve brought Westwood,” Warned grumbled.
Grigori grinned, his canines sharp. “Yes, it is to be war.”
And they disappeared from the room, taking Peter Breslin with them.
Chapter Eleven
As her mate’s rage cooled, Marchessa said, “I don’t want there to be war because of me.”
“If it wasn’t because of you, it would be because of something else,” Blake reassured her.
“I don’t know why Grigori wants war, but he does.”
“I’ll have my contacts at the US State Dept dig up what they can on Grigori. Last I knew, he was wanted in the US for human trafficking and other crimes,” Warner said.
“I didn’t mean to drag us to war. But I won’t let them take her,” Antony said, his breathing coming in erratic gasps as he swallowed down his fury. “I can stand alone against my brother.”
“As if I would let that happen,” Blake said.
“We know well the price of war,” Warner said quietly. “And still, we stand with you.”
“My father wants me dead,” she whispered.
“I don’t think he really wants you dead, I think he’s just a selfish bastard who got in too deep.”
He’d told her to run, to leave. But she hadn’t listened. “He tried to warn me.”
“These things are what they are. We can’t change our sires,” Antony said.
Marchessa knew what it was to be an Alpha. These were her people. Her responsibility. Her gifts. She had to protect them at all costs.
“No, Marchessa. I know what you’re thinking. And I forbid it.”
“My life for many? My life for our pack? My life for you?” She said this last more quietly. “Yes.”
“You are an Alpha in every way, Marchessa. But sometimes, war is worth it. Sometimes there’s a poison that has to be rooted out, the cancer excised so new life can grow,” Blake reassured her.
“I can’t let anyone die for me.”
“Then fight. Fight for yourself. Fight for your pack. Fight for us,” Antony said.
She looked up into his eyes and saw the same forever there as she’d seen yesterday before the world started burning. Before knowing her father wanted her dead. Before knowing she had a tribe, a pack—nations that would rally under her banner.
“Of course I’ll fight,” Marchessa said.
“We all will. And they’ll rue this day when they all die screaming,” Antony promised.
“Come to Aphelion. I have some new and exciting things to show you,” Blake said with a grin. “As well as improved security.”
“I need to get my house in Ardennes in order first.” Armand said.
“I’m proud of you,” Antony said, clasping his forearm in the way of warriors of old.
“I won’t fail you.”
“Never could you,” Antony swore.
“Infuse the money from your trust back into Ardennes. You’ll make it back. And it will win the people,” he advised.
“Buy them you mean? I planned on it.” Armand winked. “And I’m going to find out about the witc
hes. Who knows how long they’ve been tinkering in our affairs.” Armand stalked to the double doors and the burly guards opened them. Armand left the room without looking back.
“We’ve got our jet at the airport. We’re heading to Aphelion now. You’re welcome to fly with us,” Blake offered.
“We’ll catch up. We need to fortify Roluscany before we leave,” Marchessa replied. “But thank you for the offer.
When they were alone, Marchessa asked Antony, “What does this mean for us? We should check out of the hotel, directly, right?”
“It means we’re going to Venice to see a witch.”
“What about Roluscany?”
“It’s for Rolsucany. She used to be my household witch, but she fell in love with a vampire—no accounting for taste—anyway, she left with the promise she’d always protect the island. So, I’m going to hold her to it.”
“I hate vampires.”
“I know. Me too.” He shrugged. “Again, no accounting for taste. He seems to treat her well though.”
“Maybe, in the midst of planning a campaign, we could manage a gondola ride?” She leaned against him.
“See, you’ve got this eternity thing down pat, my love. Take time to enjoy the small things. See the beauty. Even in war. Even in death. Even in loss.” He kissed the top of her head. “Especially in Venice. We should actually get married there.”
Things weren’t perfect, but she knew that no life was. Maybe she didn’t need them to be. All she needed was to be with him and somehow, that made it all bearable. Maybe not just bearable, but beautiful.
She nodded. “I love you, Antony.” She swallowed hard, and considered another bowl of gelato.
“And I love you, my Princess of the Pack.”
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