The night of Nicole’s coronation bloomed beautiful and warm, if not especially cheerfully, considering it was Nicole’s coronation.
When we could delay the inevitable no longer, we gathered together in the ballroom, the festivities on a giant screen hung from one end. A long table bore gold and black party hats, noisemakers, and yellow bottles of champagne, which Helen poured into tall, elegant flutes.
Our man hadn’t become king, but the coronation of a queen was still a big deal, even if she wasn’t actually our queen. Even vampires—especially vampires—liked pomp and circumstance.
Novitiates mingled nervously, excited about the drama and guilty about their excitement. They stole glances at Ethan, checking his mood and temperament, and at Amit, who’d decided to stay in Chicago for a few more nights.
I decided the best course of action was to keep things light, so I swept two flutes of champagne from the table and handed one to him.
“I think we both need a drink,” I said. “No—deserve a drink. Or all of them.”
“Or all of them,” he agreed, and took a sip.
The ballroom filled and the lights dimmed, and the screen lit up with color. The video showed a large room, empty and made of stone, floor to ceiling. Seven heavy wooden armchairs stood in a semicircle, the back of the middle chair two feet taller than the rest.
Darius, Nicole, and the few remaining members of the GP sat in their chairs, each formally attired. The men wore deep gray tuxedos with long tails. Lakshmi wore a sari in a deep buttercup yellow accented with ruby red jewels. Her hair flowed straight down her back, her eyes darkly outlined.
I may not have been a fan, but Nicole looked radiant in a pale peach bias-cut sheath, with long sleeves and a sharp cut at the neck that revealed a glittering heart-shaped pendant. The dress swept the floor, and her hair was curled into a shiny bob.
“I don’t like her,” Lindsey said, sidling beside me. “But that dress is a ten.”
“Reluctantly agreed,” I said, clinking my glass lightly against hers.
“How will this play out?” I asked Ethan.
He sipped from his glass. “First will be the ‘May’ speech,” he said. “Then the crowning and oath swearing by the GP members. And then she’ll have an opportunity to speak to her subjects.”
Envy tinged his voice. He wanted the job, the opportunity to lead, the chance to improve supernaturals’ lives.
I linked an arm through his. “And then she gets the unenviable task of making something good of the GP.”
On my other side, Amit chuckled. “You are right, Merit. That is no enviable task.”
Another man in a tuxedo walked to Darius’s chair, offered a crimson velvet pillow, on which was placed a silver crown laden with glimmering diamonds and rubies, and a long fluted scepter topped by a ruby the size of a golf ball.
“Spare no expense,” I murmured, as Darius picked up the crown jewels and dismissed the servant.
He stood, and Nicole did the same, walking toward him so they stood in the middle of the semicircle.
“Place a hand on your heart,” he said. “The source of life.”
She did.
“You’ve been voted regent of the vampires ruled by the Greenwich Presidium. Do you promise to protect them, to serve them, and to place them above all others?”
“I do.”
To my surprise, that was apparently the extent of the oath. It didn’t escape my notice that Novitiates and Masters said longer and more involved oaths than the leader of vampires.
“May you rule with wisdom and justice. May your rule be eternal. May you provide abundant treasures for your vampires. May you protect them wholly from all creatures living and dead.”
That, I presumed, was the “May” speech.
Nicole nodded, accepted the scepter Darius handed her, and leaned forward so Darius could place the crown on her head.
When she bore the jewels, he stepped back, leaving Nicole in the spotlight. And the deed was done. For a moment, Nicole stood silently, staring down at the scepter in her hand, her thumb tracing the smooth curve of the ruby.
Then she lifted dark eyes to the camera. “I thank those who challenged me for their dedication to this office. I thank the Houses who voted for me for their loyalty and belief in my rule. I thank the Masters of the Houses for their service to their vampires and this organization for two centuries. And I thank those who came before me on the Greenwich Presidium.
“For my first act as head of the GP . . .” She paused, took a breath, and exhaled through pursed lips. And we all leaned forward a little bit.
“. . . I hereby abolish it.”
The remaining GP members burst into argument. The crowd in the ballroom erupted with shock, filling the room with sound.
Ethan’s eyes widened, mostly with curiosity.
“What in God’s name . . . ,” Malik murmured, gaze fixed on the screen.
“Well, well, well,” Amit said with a Cheshire smile.
“I will have order,” Nicole said, with enough push behind the word that even I stood a little straighter.
It was effective. The crowd in the ballroom quieted immediately.
“The GP is antiquated,” Nicole said. “American and European vampires lack the connection they once had—culturally, politically, economically. It is time for a change.
“This is our Declaration of Independence,” she said. “The GP is no more. European vampires can decide how to rule themselves, as should be, and I leave to them how they would control their affairs. I give up any authority to rule the European houses. They should decide their ruler for themselves.”
More outbursts until she spoke again. “As for America,” she began again, and silence fell, “we need no queen and no king. Our existence was announced to the world more than a year ago, and not once have we convened to discuss it. That’s what we need: frank discussion. The opportunity to plan, to discuss. We need to take control of our new destiny . . . and we can do that most effectively together. Effective today, I call into creation the Assembly of American Masters, consisting of the Master of each American House—including Cadogan House.”
Every pair of eyes in the room flew to Ethan, to the widening of his eyes, the parting of his lips, the shock in his expression.
“Each House will have an equal vote, and each Master will share the responsibility of shaping our mutual future. If there are any American Masters who decline to serve their vampires, their Houses, their country, they should speak now.”
“This will never work.” The camera panned to Edmund’s face. “If you segregate us now, you create only more division among vampires. The world is getting smaller, and you’re ignoring it.”
“No,” Nicole calmly said, as if utterly unperturbed. “I’m respecting the boundaries that exist, not those that existed two hundred years ago. The world is changing. Humans know about us, technology continues to march along, and we cannot afford to pretend that all is the same.
“I’ve spoken my piece,” Nicole said. “I was duly tested and elected, and these are my decisions. We will provide sufficient time to address the legal and financial formalities of our division.” She glanced around at her colleagues. “But as for Europe, I shall leave you to govern yourselves.”
Having gotten in the last words, Nicole turned, peach silk sweeping at her feet, and walked to the edge of the room and out the door again, her bodyguards behind her.
For a moment, the throne room went silent. The other members of the GP stared at one another, evaluating, strategizing, anticipating. The things vampires did best.
With slow deliberation and the bearing of a queen, Lakshmi took a seat, her fingers curving over the arms of the chair. Chin tilted, she slid glances to the rest of the GP.
“If we are to rule ourselves, the American Houses can have no interest in it.” She looked directly at the camera, and the screen went dark.
The dramatics of the Greenwich Presidium were no longer our concern.
Silence fell in the ballroom, and we all turned to look at Ethan, whose gaze was still on the darkened screen. There was pride in his eyes, excitement. But also no little suspicion.
Yes, Nicole had just given him power, but by doing so she’d made a new set of allies—every American Master. Every colleague in her new Assembly. And she’d need their support: Not all vampires would take kindly to her plan to so neatly divide the world and wealth.
He looked at me, squeezed my hand. I nodded back.
Footsteps rang out as Malik walked to the other end of the room, stepped onto the dais, looked over the gathering in the ballroom.
“This is an unexpected development,” Malik said, voice loud and ringing across the ballroom. “A historically unprecedented development. But it is for reasons like this—for the turning pages of history—that we have come together as a House, that we make promises to each other.”
Malik looked earnestly at Ethan, gestured him forward. Anticipation built as Ethan crossed the room, mounted the dais.
“Ethan Sullivan,” Malik began, “Master of Cadogan House, you have apparently been named a member of the new Assembly of American Masters. At times like these, it is important to remember the bonds that bind us together, and the promise we have made to each other.”
Ethan smiled at him.
“In the presence of your brothers and sisters,” Malik continued, “do you pledge that you still shall show fealty and allegiance to Cadogan House, to its honor? Do you pledge to be true and faithful to Cadogan House and to its members to the exclusion of all others, without deception? Do you pledge to uphold the liberty of your brothers and sisters?”
He was repeating the oath that Cadogan Initiates took at Commendation, when we became full and official members of the House. But Malik had adjusted it, creating a new oath, and a new promise for Ethan. A reminder of his loyalties.
“Do you pledge to serve the House without hesitation, and to never, by word or deed, seek to harm the House or its members? Will you help to hold and defend her against any creature, living or dead, and make this promise, gladly and without dread, and keep it for as long as you shall live?”
A thousand emotions crossed Ethan’s face, but mostly there was pride and love and earnestness. He wanted to do right, to do better, for his vampires. “I do,” he called out.
“In that case,” Malik said with a smile, stepping forward and going down on one knee, “in the presence of my brothers and sisters, I pledge fealty and allegiance to the Assembly of American Vampires, and to you, our Master . . . and our sire.” He glanced at the other vampires in the room. “If you will join me, show your fealty.”
To a one, with the shush of fabric and the squeak of shoes on the wooden floors, every vampire in the room, including myself, dropped to one knee, reiterating our loyalty to Ethan.
Magic lifted and draped the room, loving and proud and hopeful. It was the magic of a Master who’d been called to serve, and those who’d agreed to serve him still.
My eyes filled with tears, and I heard muted sniffles around me.
Ethan stared around the room, taking in the sight before him, the vampires who’d prostrated themselves to his service. His eyes were wide, his surprise at the turn of events still obvious.
“Rise, please,” Ethan said, and the vampires stood again, patting him on the back and calling for him to make a speech.
“You humble me,” Ethan said. “To be frank, I assumed I would leave this room tonight feeling envious and bitter. Instead, I leave it humbled. Proud. And honestly, a little relieved.”
There were light chuckles in the crowd. Ethan knew how to work an audience.
“I did not expect this—either for us, or from Nicole.” He moistened his lips. “Tonight, she showed she is willing to give the American Houses the voice they’ve long been denied.”
That was a very diplomatic way of putting it. There was no point—right now—in detailing exactly how untrustworthy Nicole Heart really was.
“We are fortunate enough to stand in the crossroads of history. For the first time, we will know independence for the American Houses. But let us not forget the challenges that we face, and the uncertainties of the future. Our path is new, untrodden, but I will do my best to serve you, the House, and the Assembly.”
“Hear, hear,” Luc shouted, and a hundred other vampires followed suit.
“I think, all things considered, that a celebration is in order.” He found Helen in the crowd, nodded at her. “Keep the champagne flowing.”
“And snacks!” Margot yelled out, which earned a whistle from me.
“In that case, let’s celebrate!” Ethan said, and a rousing version of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” filled the air when someone turned on the audio system.
Grinning from ear to ear, Ethan stepped down from the dais, began to shake the hands of the vampires who moved forward to congratulate him.
I felt my phone vibrate but resisted the urge to check the screen. I already knew who would be calling.
Ethan was now one of twelve.
The RG would have plenty to say about that.
When the festivities were over, we returned to Ethan’s office, chatting with the vampires who stopped by to congratulate him and wish him well. He opened the Glenmorangie, which had made its way back into the liquor cabinet, and still seemed to be in shock at the turn of events. But it was the best kind of shock.
Eventually, the well-wishers cleared away and we returned to our apartments.
“So,” I said, when the door was closed behind us and we had privacy and quiet again. “I guess congratulations are in order.”
“Of a type,” he agreed. “But let’s not think too kindly about her motives.”
“Oh, I don’t. She’s conniving. And I think we can safely assume this move wasn’t because she really believes in honor and valor, but because she gained eleven new allies by appointing them all to her brand-new council.”
“It was a cunning move,” he agreed. “Come here, Sentinel,” he said, crooking his finger at me. I walked into his arms, pressed my mouth to his, kissed him until my muscles went lax and he wound his fingers through my hair.
He pulled back, kissed me more softly, then released me.
I pulled off my jacket, then the boots and leather pants. Still wearing my tank, I pulled the band from my hair, shaking it until it fell around my shoulders in a dark waterfall, and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“You paint quite a picture,” Ethan said.
I smiled back at him, stretched my arms behind me. If I was going to play seductress, I might as well get into the part. “There’s more canvas to be revealed,” I said with a wink.
A finger touched a sharp edge, and I glanced behind me. A small white card and envelope was propped on a blue velvet pillow on the bed. Grinning, I snatched it up and slid the card from the envelope, expecting to read words of love or seduction.
But it was neither. The card was handwritten, the ink a deep scarlet, the script small, neat, and slanted.
I have missed you, mon ami. So many centuries and continents between us. I look forward to our reunion.
—B
My hand shook, and breath escaped me. I didn’t know I’d dropped the card, or that Ethan had moved closer, until he’d bent to pick it up from the floor.
I looked up at him, hoping against hope that my fear was baseless, that the “B” who’d signed the note wasn’t the monster who’d made him, who’d put such fear into his heart, who’d come between us once even after centuries in the ground.
But Balthasar was dead.
I couldn’t form words to speak, but I begged him in silence to say we’d been pranked, to rail against the vampire who’d made a very poor joke at the end of a very long night.
But all the color had drained from Ethan’s face. My heart pounded in sympathy—and fear.
Ethan? I silently managed.
Wordlessly, he crumpled the note in his hand, walked to the fireplace, and tossed it in.
“We can’t pretend we didn’t see that,” I quietly said. “If he’s alive . . .”
“We aren’t going to pretend,” he said, looking back at me with eyes of quicksilver. “And he isn’t alive. Someone is playing a very dangerous game, and we’re going to win it.”