by Tessa Dawn
Yes, she does.
She’s okay, right? I mean, she will be.
She is! Kristina insisted, You, of all people, know this personally. The Enchanted Forest, the Tree of Light, Lord Monoceros…the celestial gods and their divine intercession. Lily is not alone, Braden. Far, far from it.
He nodded, almost imperceptibly. And then he drew back his shoulders, raised his chin, and waved his hand from the front of the slab to the posterior. It was then that Kiera began to play her violin, a soft, deeply melodic, soul-stirring rendition of Lily’s favorite human song: Rock of Ages. As the heavy stone slab began to shift, then sway—ever so slightly, ever so gently—the earth opened to embrace it, and it slowly descended, deep into the ground.
“Travel well, Mamica,” Braden uttered. “Go in peace.”
Kristina nearly lost it, but she clenched both hands into fists and bit down hard on her lower lip, as Dario, then Conrad, repeated the blessed refrain, replacing Mamica with My beloved mate and then Mother…
Napolean Mondragon spoke solemnly: “Travel well, Lilian Bratianu, daughter of our heart…and house. Go in peace.”
Nachari—then Deanna—spoke the same refrain as Napolean…
And then the earth closed around Lily, and the service came to an end.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Two weeks later
Ciopori stood with her hands on her hips, surveying the gorgeous crystal goblets with their long, elegant stems and etched diamond patterns, sitting atop the clean quartz counters in the anteroom behind the Ceremonial Hall of Justice, as she counted each chalice a second time. Braden’s naming ceremony would begin in fifteen minutes, and she, Vanya, as well as Kristina and all the Silivasi sisters-in-law had volunteered to show up early, decorate the hall, and prepare the celebratory wine for the casual post-ceremony mingling.
Shelly Winters, a fourth- or fifth-generation human devotee whose family had both been aware of the Vampyr and served them for centuries, had also volunteered to refill glasses and carry trays following the private ceremony, which she would not be a part of. It had seemed like an incredibly generous—and slightly strange—offer, except Shelly used to feed Julien before Rebecca came along and put an end to it, and rumor had it, she still fed Keitaro Silivasi on rare, critical occasions. No one knew the exact nature of Keitaro and Zayda Patrone’s relationship, other than the fact that Zayda resided at the Silivasi homestead, but Shelly never passed up an opportunity to brush elbows with the senior Silivasi patriarch. As far as Ciopori was concerned, the poor, lovely lady probably checked the moon and the sky nightly, hoping to see a Sagittarius Blood Moon with her name on it, declaring Shelly Keitaro’s…forever.
However, Keitaro had already had a destiny, Serena Silivasi, and it didn’t work that way, a second Blood Moon…
But no one could fault the poor girl for hoping.
Just then, the destinies began to file in from the ceremonial hall, decorations finished.
“I used the very last roll of silk gold ribbon,” Jocelyn announced, approaching Ciopori, her stunning hazel-green eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “Good thing we stopped off to get a couple more rolls.”
“Same with the black ink refills for the antique brass inkwell, calligraphy pen, and guest book. The first two bottles were completely dried up when I opened them. Sheesh, wonder how old they were,” Deanna said.
Kristina walked in behind Deanna, wearing the hell out of a new velvet red dress with a deep V-neck, a high, split-front right thigh, and a modest, sweeping, forward train above a killer pair of strapless red heels, and she smiled brightly at Ciopori. “Everything looks great in the hall.”
Ciopori returned the grin and sighed, feeling a deep, newfound appreciation—as well as an even closer sisterly connection—for the pretty redhead. Holy deities, Kristina had been through so much the last few weeks and particularly during the Millenia Harvest Moon: First, Achilles had more or less stalked the poor woman, then Kristina had sworn the princesses to secrecy, only to compel them to protect her with an ancient warded spell, a spell their brother Jaegar had unraveled in an instant. If that had not been enough drama for one night, Zeus Dragavei had taken Kristina back to Achilles’ lair, where the Dark Ones had kept her like some primitive, pagan prize, awaiting Achilles’ return to his body. All of that to say nothing of the battle in the Red Canyons, where Kristina had been forced to kneel and watch as Braden nearly died—as Ciopori and Vanya awaited potential execution—while knowing nothing of the house of Jadon’s plans to rescue the females, no matter the eventuality.
It had to have been harrowing…
Terrifying…
Exhausting.
Having learned about Braden’s tragic loss, the passing of his mother, Lily, from Zeus of all vampires, the brave female had sworn to seek vengeance for Braden—somehow, someday—even if she had to do it unilaterally.
And then the wild woman had jumped right off the edge of the cliff, Napolean’s sword in hand, trying to impale Achilles.
Ciopori shook her head.
It was over—thank the gods and goddesses.
No point in revisiting the darkest moments.
As it stood, both she and Vanya might be processing all that had happened for a lifetime: the chance to see their brother Jadon again; losing him…twice…without saying goodbye; their sibling Jaegar’s never-ending treachery and bloodthirsty vendetta; the hows…the whys…the utter absurdity.
She blinked to clear her mind, and as if on cue—as if Vanya sensed Ciopori’s rising consternation—the beautiful princess sashayed across the room, circled Kristina—twice—then bent to lift the hem of her modest train. “Where are the children?” Vanya asked, her pale rose eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Excuse me?” Kristina slapped Vanya’s hand away, took a step back, and smoothed her train.
“The children,” Vanya repeated. “The twin girls you are supposed to give to the house of Jadon? It’s been two weeks now, well over forty-eight hours. In fact, it’s been forty-eight hours, plus forty-eight hours…plus forty-eight hours, times four—I thought certainly by now, you and Braden would have…delivered.” She smirked, then giggled.
And the other destinies joined her.
“Oh, my gosh, Vanya!” Kristina exclaimed. “Maybe give us a minute to get acclimated to all the changes.”
“A minute?” Vanya quipped. “Shall I count the minutes, too? Hmm, let’s see.” She touched a finger to her lips. “Three hundred and thirty-six hours divided by fourteen days…twenty-four hours in a day and sixty minutes in an hour—”
“Well, I will say this,” Arielle interrupted in an ostensible attempt to save Kristina, her prodding a bit more subdued, “I’ve never seen any woman smile so much—good heavens, our red-haired sister must have giggled five times while decorating the back pews in the hall. She would place a bundle of gold hypericum on a bench, giggle to herself, then blush and cover her eyes…rinse and repeat with every bunch of hypericum.”
Nope, not saving her at all, Ciopori mused.
Kristina turned a bright shade of pink. “Shut up, Arielle.”
Oh my, they were onto something, Ciopori mused further, knowing the females would circle like sharks now. But before they could get too revved up, Deanna Silivasi crossed the room in her distinctive, graceful, model’s stride and placed an elegant arm around Kristina’s shoulders. “No worries, sis; I’ve got your back.”
At this, Vanya leaned in toward Kristina conspiratorially. She spoke in a hushed whisper, knowing full well that all could still hear her: “And I shall always have your back as well, Kristina.” She rolled her exquisite eyes. “After all, ’twas I who rode shotgun with you when Saber was being…well, shall we just say, less than faithful. We’ve been through thick and thin.” She held her fist in the air. “Girlfriends forever. Ride or die…”
Now this made Kristina laugh out loud. She squeezed Deanna’s hand, then stepped forward and threw both arms around Vanya, giving her a tight girlfriend hug. “
Oh, Vanya,” she moaned, “I love you dearly, but sweetheart—a couple corrections.” She stepped back and placed a hand on her hip, inadvertently highlighting the red velvet dress. “First, I was the one driving the car, so technically, you rode shotgun. And second, Saber was not being unfaithful, not even remotely, and you know this. You had shut him out of your life—remember? He was just going to the bar to feed. And if I recall, you were also the one who slashed his tires. But yes, girlfriend; I will always have your back as well.”
Vanya flicked a graceful hand in the air, feigning insult. “Tomato…tomahto…such insignificant details.” She smiled like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. “My point simply was: Those were very dark times, and we came through them together.”
Deanna leaned toward Kristina and whispered. “Anyone who goes near Saber—”
“Everyone who goes near Saber,” Jocelyn interjected.
“Well, anyone female,” Arielle chimed in.
“All dark times,” Deanna insisted.
“Very dark times,” Jocelyn clarified.
A chorus of laughter filled the anteroom.
Vanya rolled her eyes again. “Whatever.” Then she smiled, sheepishly. “Wild dragons need to be tamed from time to time.”
“Right,” Ciopori said, no longer able to refrain from teasing her blood sister over Vanya’s silly grandstanding. She glanced at the hem of Vanya’s ruffled, high-waist skirt, a hem that only fell to mid-thigh. “Is that why you have rug burns on your knees, dear sister? Beneath your sheer nylons? You were taming Saber last night?”
Vanya blanched.
“Who was taming whom?”
The women’s laughter rose.
“Speaking of rug burns, knees, and female children,” Ciopori persisted, egged on by the good-natured camaraderie. “So, Kristina, do tell us more: How is the…sword of Jadon?” Oh, dear lords, she couldn’t believe she’d said that.
Deanna laughed so hard she had to press both hands against her stomach, and Jocelyn swiped the back of her eyes—she may have actually shed a tear.
“Oh my gods!” Kristina cried. This time her face flushed pale. “You women are worse than Braden!”
“Worse than Braden?” Deanna probed, sounding coltishly shocked and amused. “C’mon, c’mon; spill the beans!” She fanned her face with her hand. “Because—no disrespect to Nachari’s legendary beauty—but that fine young vampire has got to be one of the hottest things on two feet these days. Holy Monoceros.” She feigned like she was swooning.
“He is…handsome,” Arielle said, snickering.
“Ah-hem.” Jocelyn cleared her throat. “Can someone say see-through loincloth? Had to pull that one out of Nathaniel’s memory a couple of times.”
“Oh my gosh!” Deanna’s eyes grew wide. “You’re lucky Nathaniel didn’t catch you!”
“Jiminy Christmas!” Kristina huffed.
“Hello?” Shelly Winters chimed in, catching the vampire females off guard. After all, she had no idea what the lewd loincloth reference was about. “He could slide down my chimney any day of the week—and twice on Sunday!” she said, making a rather clever reference to the human holiday.
Vanya spun around on her heel and glared at Shelly, nostrils flaring—Ciopori snatched her by the arm. “Sister, come! We should check the hall, one last time. The guests will be arriving any minute.” With that, she tugged the princess so hard, Vanya lost her balance and had to take several stutter-steps sideways to keep from falling over. Then Ciopori dragged her out of the anteroom.
Braden had only been five years old when he was brought into the house of Jadon…
Not born.
After claiming and mating Lily Clarke, Dario had converted Braden Clarke under the protection of Dario’s own celestial lord, Pegasus. He had given the child his surname, and Lord Monoceros had soon revealed to Napolean that he had chosen the child as his own: to lead, protect…and influence. Since the child already had a name, the house of Jadon knew him—or at least knew of him—and since his parents’ mating ceremony had already been officiated, Napolean saw no need to replicate the naming of a newborn child for a five-year-old boy, to welcome someone into the house of Jadon who was already a very real and integral part of it.
Rather, Napolean had performed a simple ceremony in Dario and Lily’s front parlor, taking Braden’s blood so that the king would always be able to track and find him. Napolean had welcomed the awkward, insecure lad to his own broad, extended family—the lighter Vampyr species—explaining the significance of being chosen by Lord Monoceros and assuring Braden’s parents that he would be given an appropriate education at the Academy, as well as a formal Induction Ceremony upon graduation, where he would officially receive the Crest Ring of the house of Jadon, just like any other vampire.
He would be free to choose among The Four Disciplines when he enrolled in the Romanian University, and he would be reared in the house of Jadon by all…with love, loyalty, and the customary fealty.
Never in Braden’s wildest dreams did he expect to stand on the stage in the hallowed Ceremonial Hall of Justice and look out over a sea of so many vampires: Niko, Jankiel, and Fabian, along with Gwen and Falcon, as well as Napolean’s family, were all seated in the front left pew. Keitaro, Zayda, and all Keitaro’s sons, plus their destinies and children, were seated in the two front, right pews. The sentinels and their mates…their children…were seated behind the Atonescus. A host of Master Warriors, with their families—some clearly Ancients—were seated over several rows behind the Silivasis, and from the way the bodies were crowded in there, Braden could’ve sworn every vampire in the house of Jadon had crammed into the hall.
Some stood in the outer aisles…
Still others crowded along the walls.
Holy moly…
He took a deep breath to calm his nerves.
And then he bit down on his lower lip with an upper canine to stop his mind from wandering because it kept getting stuck on Kristina and that smoking-hot red velvet dress! Napolean had been gesturing and speaking eloquently for the last two minutes, and Braden hadn’t heard a word the king had said. It was just…it was just…now that he knew what was beneath that slender profile, the soft pink areolas beneath the dark, velvet red, on either side of the deep V neckline—
Stop it, Braden!
Just stop.
This is way too important to miss.
Kristina’s bright blue eyes lit up, and she flashed him a loving smile—a loving smile, not a seductive invitation!—as she stood, relaxed and stately, beside Dario and Conrad, just off to the right from center stage.
Braden returned the smile and straightened his back, fixing his eyes on Napolean.
But those sleek red shoes…
She should’ve been a foot model.
“It is with great joy that I greet you this day, my brother, a fellow descendant of Jadon, a Master Warrior, mate to the beloved daughter of Pegasus who now makes her home in the Valley of Spirit & Light, sire to the most honored vampire among us, son of Monoceros, the unicorn, who makes his home within the Rosette Nebula in the center of the triangle formed by Betelgeuse, Procyon, and Sirius.” Napolean spoke to Dario. “Step forth and declare the name your king and your High Mage have chosen for this newly anointed, adult male vampire.”
Dario stepped forward, and he had Braden’s full attention.
That, and the painful reminder that his mother was looking down from the celestial heavens, watching from another dimension.
Dario’s usual pale gray eyes beamed with uncommon light and pride. “Should it please you, my lord, and find favor with the Celestial Beings, the son of Monoceros is to be forever known as Braden Amadis Bratianu.”
Braden inhaled sharply, and his forehead began to sweat.
Lily and Brad had never given him a middle name, but this one moved him to his core: Amadis, the title Prince Jadon had given him when the ancient patriarch of the house of Jadon had anointed Braden in the canyon with Napolean’s sword.
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br /> He gulped, remembering that moment, and Kristina’s eyes filled with tears.
They exchanged a knowing glance, and then Braden turned back to Napolean.
“The name pleases me, warrior, and there is no objection from the Celestial Beings.”
Like many others in the house of Jadon, Braden supposed, he had always wondered how Napolean knew that—the fact that the gods did not object—but he didn’t dare ask. He licked his lips—they were suddenly dry—and concentrated on keeping his hands at his sides. No fidgeting!
Napolean turned to face the crowd. “Let it also be known that this male’s formal title is no longer fledgling or acolyte. That even when he attains the title of Master in one—or more—of The Four Disciplines”—he glanced at Braden and winked—“his decorous address shall remain indicative of the rank and title given to him by The Prince himself: Greet and honor the living Sword of Jadon.”
Every male in the hall placed a fist over his heart.
Every female placed an open palm over the same…
And all bowed their heads.
Braden’s legs turned into spaghetti noodles, and he felt his body sway to the left.
Stand tall, Braden Amadis—Kristina’s voice in his head—you’ve earned this, you’re worthy, and you deserve to take in the moment.
Braden stiffened his legs, raised his chin, and looked out over the audience.
Nachari Silivasi’s deep, forest-green eyes were glazed with proud, gratified tears…full to the brim with devotion…and Braden almost lost it.
Be strong, Braden told himself. Don’t you dare break down and blubber on this stage.
Julien Lacusta was standing just a bit taller than his usual six-foot-four, towering frame, and his moonstone-gray eyes were as soft as morning raindrops.
Even Marquis Silivasi was beaming with pride.
Holy shit…
“Behold the house of Jadon,” Napolean said to Braden, “as you take your rightful place among us: May your life be filled with peace, triumph, and purpose. May your path always be blessed.”
