9 A MATTER OF PIGEONS

The letter came bright and early a few days later, carried in by the world’s most hideous pigeon.

Remy was not particularly invested in the concept of pigeons as a whole. He knew they could be trained to fly thousands of miles to deliver correspondence of utmost importance and were often gray or white with feathers and a beak, as were most birds.

This one was scarlet, with an angry black streak through its backside. Its eyes were an uncomfortable shade of crimson, and it somehow managed to have the aforementioned beak and fangs at the same time, small canines apparent only when it squawked. The combination would have been more comical had the pigeon not turned out to be a miniature horror show, nearly biting a finger off the castle’s bird keeper when it thought he came too close.

“This isn’t your doing, is it?” Remy asked, gaping at the little hellspawn.

Malekh’s brows drew low over his eyes; you could bury treasure in the wrinkle on his forehead. “We’re not keeping it overnight, Vernon,” he said. “It’s not a creature you’ll want resting in our rafters. Send it on its way.”

“But we haven’t even taken off the message, milord.” Vernon pointed at the vampiric pigeon’s clawed feet, where a rolled-up sheet was still attached.

“There’s no need. Send it back as soon as you can, unless you’d like to see it feasting on the rest of the coop.”

“Are you sure?” Remy asked, watching the undead bird fly away. There were worse things, certainly, but the idea of violent vampire pigeons somehow felt repulsive. “It could be important.”

“It belongs to the leader of the Sixth Court, and I’m not interested in what she has to say,” Malekh said brusquely.

“There are more pigeons like that?”

“If we are fortunate, we will have little need to meet the rest.” Malekh looked at Vernon. “Do not allow any more of her messengers within the keep. Fanglei was never good at training them not to attack when they were hungry, and I doubt that has changed.”

The Sixth Court ruler’s pigeon did not bring another letter the next day. It did summon more companions to keep it company, and all took roost in the upper beams of the castle hall. They were silent, watching the people below with their bloodred gaze.

“I thought you said the castle was well fortified?” Remy asked, mouth full of cheese-and-onion omelet.

“None of the openings are wide enough for kindred to go through, however successful their birds are.”

“They could drop in poison. Or mutated rats. This Sixth Court leader might’ve found a chink in your castle armor.”

On Malekh’s instructions, a few of his men sent the pigeons scattering with several well-aimed sandbags.

“The Sixth Court ruler seems… persistent,” Remy said, watching it all unfold.

“There is nothing she has to say that I wish to listen to.” Malekh had been making it a habit to accompany Remy while he broke his fast, though he and Xiaodan often partook of their meal in bed the night before. Xiaodan tended to sleep for another couple of hours, though she no longer slipped into a coma-like slumber.

Remy helped himself to a buttered slice of bread. “You’re going to have to talk to her eventually if you intend to convene the other kindred to discuss the First Court. You seem pretty settled here, though. Not once have you told either Xiaodan or I to make our preparations to leave for wherever this meeting is.” When Malekh didn’t say anything, Remy looked at him in surprise. “Are they to gather here at the Morgana?”

“No. We do not make it a habit to invite outsiders to our respective strongholds.”

“So why aren’t we heading off to wherever we ought to go?”

“The neutral territory I had proposed was not to the others’ taste.”

“So they’re opting for somewhere else?” Remy paused. “That temple Eugenie mentioned? The Allpriory? But why? They despised the Night King just as well, even if they had the temerity to blame you for freeing them from his influence.”

Malekh looked faintly amused. “You look ready to fight them all. I would not have thought you so eager to leave, especially since you will need to present yourself to them as our familiar.”

Remy scowled at him. “Every day we squander is to the Night Empress’s advantage.”

“Do you still dream of her?”

Malekh knew he hadn’t. Remy had resumed taking the lord’s tinctures. Any offers on his part to try again had been soundly rejected by both vampires, who had been far more shaken by his reaction after waking from his last dream than he had. “No, but I think we should make another attempt before we leave.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“She didn’t harm me. She said she wouldn’t. I just got a little overwhelmed, is all. She was… kind, like she gave a shit about me as her son. At least, until the end.” Remy scowled. Something about the encounter nagged at him, though he couldn’t remember what. They destroyed my home, the Night Empress had said, and it didn’t sound like she’d been talking about him or his father.

“There may be a way to allow Xiaodan and I access to your dreams,” Malekh said softly. “If you are determined to see this through, then at least let us allow us a chance to confront her with you.”

“Last I remember, she has a tendency to be a lot more homicidal when either of you are around.”

“Just because she remembers you does not mean she will always be kind.”

Remy stared down at his half-eaten bread. “She can’t do this,” he said. “Waltz into my head and tell me she misses me, just for her to leave, like everyone else.”

“Not everyone, Pendergast. Some of us have no intentions of leaving.”

Remy looked at Malekh. The vampire lord had no breakfast to eat, and was instead watching the people around him, though his gaze remained averted from Remy’s.

“I know,” Remy said, then proceeded to stuff the rest of the bread slice into his mouth.

Several loud thuds resounded across the dining hall. A few people were scrambling backward, staring in dismay at the sudden volume of bird droppings that had spattered onto the tables, rendering their meals inedible.

Malekh muttered something under his breath and pushed his chair back to stand.

“I can help,” Remy offered, swallowing quickly.

“It shouldn’t take long. Don’t you have charges to teach this morning?”

“This Sixth Court ruler is bothering you more than you let on. You’re not usually this pissed unless it’s about me or Xiaodan.”

“And that is my problem to deal with.” Malekh surprised him with a quick, hard kiss. “I will find you again once I’ve settled matters with her messengers.”

Remy trained the youths for the next hour. Barnabas and Renzo were arguing again, and it occurred to him that only one of them would grow old one day. He remembered Salvador admitting that he’d thought Remy had plans on being turned.

The idea terrified him. He hadn’t stayed with Malekh and Xiaodan to be made kindred, but, as his father had pointed out in the past, he never thought that far ahead. He would grow old and die in the natural course of things the way other humans did, and that was that.

But Wikaan vampires could pass down blood to an heir of their choosing.

The heaviness gathering in the pit of his stomach refused to go away.

“Do you always sulk like this after giving them lessons? I thought you enjoyed teaching them.” Xiaodan had appeared. Her hands were warm when they touched his face, despite the misty day. “Is something the matter?”

“Just thinking.” Remy’s gaze wandered toward the other people in the courtyard. Now he saw a couple holding hands, one human and the other clearly kindred. He saw mill workers chatting, some fanged and others without. He saw deceptively youthful-looking vampires unafraid of the daylight, sparse as it currently was, chatting with humans who looked older than they were. When you lived with kindred, questions like Barnabas’s were natural to ask.

“Why me?” he asked her, not for the first time.

Xiaodan studied him carefully. “Why not?” she countered.

“Surely you and Malekh had talked about possibly turning me at some point, but neither of you ever broached the subject to me.”

“Are you willing?”

“I was so sure that I wouldn’t. But…” He hated it. That he’d been so cocksure in the past, finding the idea repugnant. And now he was considering throwing away all his long-held principles because he was a randy fuck who wanted to stay in their bed for at least another century, wanted to be with them longer than the life he’d been given.

“You were so adamant about not wanting to,” Xiaodan pointed out gently. “You were prepared to die rather than explore the possibility.”

“Well, when I thought I was dying at the cave in the Dà Lán, I took the cowardly way out. I told you and Malekh to save me, whatever the consequences.”

“It’s not cowardly to not want to die, Remy. Many chose to be kindred exactly because of that. We would never ask you to do something you hated, even for us. Eugenie and Paolo make their relationship work. If anything, I suspect knowing that their time together is limited allows their love to flourish even greater. I hope to have the same with you, and I know Malekh does, too. A love of your own choosing.”

But Remy remembered that Paolo hadn’t set anything in stone, either. Might be I’ll change my mind, might be I won’t, he’d said. “So neither of you wish to turn me?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “I would be dishonest if I said that I wouldn’t jump at any opportunity for you to be with us longer. But you know that not even I can guarantee that, given my own health. I could die before you.”

His grip on her tightened. “The fuck that’s going to happen.”

“I know you’re afraid that we’re wasting time with you, and that is the furthest thing from the truth. We treasure every moment spent with you like each one is an eternity.” Heedless of who was around to see, Xiaodan tugged his head down to hers.

“How do you always know the perfect thing to say?” Remy mumbled when they finally broke apart.

“Probably because I haven’t yet been completely sated from last night and want to rectify that.” Xiaodan smiled and kissed his ear. “Malekh’s far too busy to be of any use to us today, and I’ve already forgone my undergarments,” she whispered, pressing against him.

Remy could feel it. “Fucking Light, Xiaodan.”

“It’s not the Light that I want you to be fucking right now, Remington.”

A shrill scream broke the mood. A flock of pigeons raced overhead, their shrieks unlike any sounds Remy had ever heard a fowl make. People were staring above, pointing and gesturing, but most were trotting back into the castle, trained to seek cover at the first signs of trouble. Frowning, Xiaodan watched the birds disappear into the clouds. “She’s here,” she said abruptly.

“Who’s here?”

“Fanglei.” Xiaodan was already striding toward the gatehouse.

Remy hurried to keep up. “Where are you going?”

“I want to speak with her before Zidan can get his hands on her. There are some things I would like to discuss first.” She glanced back at him. “Fanglei is a persistent old biddy, but she’s the closest thing we have to an ally among the other courts. While her clan isn’t a threat to us at the moment, it’s unlikely that Zidan would allow her inside the Morgana. You’ll be meeting her soon enough, so we may as well make our introductions now.”

---

THE LEADER of the so-called Court of Cultivation did not look anything like Remy expected. For one thing, she was old—genuinely old, with a wrinkled face and silver hair wrapped in a tight bun behind her head. She was dressed in a homespun robe that appeared ordinary and inexpensive to his eye, and carried with her a cane without any decorations to mark her status. She looked like a grandmother from one of the smaller villages in Situ rather than a vampire powerful enough to lead her own clan.

With her was another anomaly, an old man with a bent back and a squint who also looked about her age. He wore large spectacles and a pair of breeches that hung down to his knees, revealing skinny legs and a pair of walking sandals stained from travel. His shirt was no better. It hung loose on his lanky frame and was spotted with faint bits of mud and dirt.

Even more puzzling were the other two by their side. One was a youth no older than Remy, with a shock of dark hair, green eyes, and an agelessness that proved him kindred. But the older woman beside him was not, though their coloring was similar enough that they were surely related. She was…

And then Remy did a double take, staring.

“Remy?” Xiaodan murmured.

“That’s the Lady Rotteburg. One of the matrons of the ton. What in the hell is she doing here?”

All four were having tea. There was a small cooking fire atop a large rock suitable enough to serve as a table between them. The old woman was pouring thick herbal liquid from a metal teapot into two wooden cups before them, the steam rising rapidly. Lady Rotteburg looked up when they approached and paled when she spotted Remy.

“About time one of you showed up,” the old lady said good-naturedly. Even her voice sounded grandmotherly, low and husky and just this side of nasal. “We’ve been here nearly an hour—quite rude of his lordship to keep visitors waiting for so long. Would you like some tea?”

“Fanglei makes the best chrysanthemum blends,” the old man said heartily.

Xiaodan said, “Perhaps next time, milady. But surely any matter you wish to discuss is of no small importance, for you and your companions to have traveled all the way here from Situ?”

“Well, my letters didn’t work. Your fiancé is still as stubborn as a mule.” The woman beamed at Remy. “And you’re the famous Reaper. Remington Pendergast, was it? Your exploits are known to us, yours and your father’s.”

Quick as a wink, she disappeared from her perch and returned to view only inches away from him. Xiaodan seized her wrist before the elderly lady could reach out and touch Breaker. “Fanglei,” she warned.

The old woman clucked her tongue. “While it is a relief to see you just as quick as ever, I am rather put out that you think I would harm so much as a hair on this young lord’s head. I have had many, many run-ins with the Pendergasts and this weapon. I merely wanted to see if it was still as sharp as I remember.”

“It is, and you may refer to him as Armiger, not Lord.”

“Very well.” The woman bowed low. “My name is Cao Fanglei, and the doddering old fool behind me is my husband, Si Daoming.” The old man waved cheerfully at them. “It is not every day that we see a Reaper in the company of a court ruler. What might a Pendergast be doing within Morgana’s walls, Lady Song?”

Remy saw Xiaodan hesitate; they had yet to discuss the specifics of his role. “I’m their familiar,” he volunteered.

Xiaodan looked mortified. Fanglei’s mouth dropped, and her companion lowered his teacup to blink at him. The youth looked at him curiously, but Lady Rotteburg held herself still, looking at him with something akin to sympathy rather than the derision he was expecting.

And then the Sixth Court ruler laughed. “If you intended to impress us, my young armiger, then you have succeeded. To call yourself a familiar of theirs so proudly—the other courts will be intrigued.” Her eyes danced. “Ah, to be young again. I had not thought either you or Lord Zidan would be the type to indulge, milady, though I’ve always had high hopes for you.”

Remy was starting to wonder if what he’d said was the right call. Even Xiaodan was blushing.

“You can bring him to the Allpriory if you’d like. The others are bringing their own human submissives, though none quite of the prestige of your young Reaper. Alas, I have none of my own, save my foolish husband in tow. I understand your fiancé’s reluctance to talk to me, but surely he knows that it is inevitable. It was he who called upon us to convene in the first place. The location should not be as important.”

“Meeting at the Allpriory is significant, Fanglei,” Malekh said coldly from behind her. “And you realize it.”

The Sixth Court couple startled. Lady Rotteburg gasped, and the boy nearly bolted from his seat. Remy as well. The vampire lord was leaning against one of the trees behind them with his arms folded, one foot braced against the trunk behind him.

“Glad am I to see you too, Lord Malekh, but first.” Fanglei gestured at the rest of her companions. “Lady Rotteburg tells me that she and the armiger are already acquainted.”

“In a fashion, yes,” Remy said, carefully neutral.

“He is being far too polite, Lady Cao,” the human woman said, rising to her feet. “Like many in Elouve, I, too, was vocal about my displeasure regarding his perceived status as a cambion. Many a time, I discouraged my charges from associating with him in my misguided belief that I could save them from corruption.”

“Charges?” Xiaodan asked.

“She chaperoned the first-year debutantes and served as their duenna,” Remy supplied quietly. “Though her assessment of me is not entirely without merit. I had a reputation beyond just being a supposed dhampir.”

“It colored my assumptions of you all the same when it did not for other rakes that come to mind. I am glad for the chance to apologize now. I do not expect you to accept it, given my own hypocrisy.”

“I do not understand.”

Lady Rotteburg laid a hand on the youth’s shoulder. “This is Lord Lorien Tattersall, my son.”

“Beg pardon?” Remy goggled at the boy. Lady Rotteburg had been one of the ton’s foremost and most influential spinsters, with nary a scandal to her name. Someone may as well have told him that the moon was made of cauliflower.

“I was away from Elouve these last few years, and he was my reason.” Her voice grew heavy in sorrow. “He is the son of Redwald Tattersall. Lady Cao was kind enough to take him under her care.”

“Redwald Tattersall,” Malekh repeated slowly. “He was Aughessy’s right-hand man.”

“And a much more sensible kindred than the lord he served, though even he was unable to prevent the Second Court’s destruction,” Fanglei sighed. “He perished during the Alurian campaign, and I had no idea until a few weeks ago that he had an heir, which puts me in a predicament. As you know, the other leaders have plans on reviving both the Second and Fifth Court in a bid to replenish our numbers, but we agreed not to meddle in their selection of successors until the council was officially in session. As the Alurians left the Court of Beauty with no survivors, Lord Lorien is likely to inherit the clan, but it would look quite suspicious if he was to turn up at my side.”

“But not if they turn up at mine, given the responsibility they want to foist on me,” Malekh said dourly. “Was it a coincidence, Fanglei?”

“I defended the borders between Aluria and Situ longer than I stated to Queen Ophelia. It was then when we happened upon Lady Rotteburg’s estate, under attack by some of the Night Empress’s coven. The young boy fought fiercely alongside us, and he looked far too much like Redwald for me not to notice.”

“Was there any reason for the coven to attack you, milady?” Xiaodan asked.

“Perhaps they learned of my son’s identity.”

“Surely you would not be opposed to offering them sanctuary? As the incumbent hierarch, you would have the final say in selecting new court leaders. The others would have little reason to protest.”

“While you remain behind the scenes, pulling their strings to your benefit?”

“No!” Lorien exclaimed, speaking for the first time. He jumped to his feet. “I am grateful to Lady Cao for everything she’s done for my mother and I, but if I intend to lead any court, I will do so with a clear conscience, without using my position for ill or for favors. Mother taught me better than that.”

Fanglei chuckled. “Just like his father would have done.”

“I am not averse to taking him in as a ward for the moment,” Malekh said. “But is it wise for a kindred youth to hold a position of such authority with little experience, despite his father’s reputation?”

“It is our law, Lord Malekh. If you are keen on changing them, it would do you best to become our hierarch first and take charge of the Allpriory.”

Malekh’s jaw tensed.

“The First Court may have been sundered, but the temple will always endure, whether you wish it to or not,” Fanglei said smoothly. “And for as long as it stands, there must always be a king to grace its court. You know that the others would jump at the chance. That they agreed to offer you the title is no mean feat. And yet here you are, rejecting such a wonderful prize.”

“I am not like the other court leaders.”

“Perhaps it is why we chose you. You know the rules, Zidan. You cannot dismiss them so easily. The others would rather you assume the throne if they cannot claim it themselves. You are respected. They know you will be just, despite whatever grudges they’ve had against you in the past.”

“Zidan,” Xiaodan said, eyes wide as she spoke aloud what Remy was still trying to understand. “Is she saying that they want you to be the next king?”

“That is exactly what I am saying,” Fanglei said impatiently. “We have been trying to hand the throne over to Malekh for centuries now, but this stubborn old goat would rather pretend that the Allpriory does not exist. The title is not a purely ceremonial one. You will be in a position to dictate the laws among the courts. The other clans distrust one another, and you are their compromise. The Allpriory cannot stand dispossessed.”

“Let the others fight for the right of it, then,” Malekh said harshly. “I am content with the Morgana. Nothing awaits me in the temple but ghosts best left forgotten.”

“You would allow someone like Raghnall charge instead, and undo all the progress you have made with the mortals? Even Yingyue shall be coming. As far gone as her mind is, she, too, understands the gravity of the situation.”

Malekh was silent. Fanglei sighed. “You are not the only one who holds foul memories of the Allpriory. We were far from grateful when you and Lilith broke the chains that bound us to him, though in truth we have much to thank you for. But if you continue to reject the title, it is only a matter of time before they fight for your place, and that fight will be a vicious one.”

“Why are you so invested?”

“Because you are not the only kindred leader who would like to know peace in these lands. Perhaps the other courts would have been content to let the throne remain empty for longer, had not this Night Empress emerged. They do not want another Ishkibal. Perhaps after she has been vanquished from whatever darkness she was spawned from. But for now, we need someone in charge, and I’d rather it be you than Raghnall or Yingyue or Hylasenth. And even without such a threat looming, the others are already trying to seek advantage of the situation. Do you know that Raghnall intends to have three of his kindred enter the Godsflame?”

Malekh’s eyes narrowed. “They cannot do so without unanimous agreement.”

“If you had thought to read any of the letters I’ve been sending you over the last several days, you would have known that.” Fanglei turned to Xiaodan. “Your ancestor died within the Allpriory’s walls, my child. Are you not interested to see what the great Lilith had fought so hard to accomplish? Her heart beat then just as strongly as yours does now. It would be a shame not to visit and see if your malady can’t be cured there.”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Fanglei,” Xiaodan said politely. “Though I’d rather defer to one of my beloveds on this, seeing as it was he who fought with her against the Night King. He knows all too well the sacrifices she made.”

Fanglei shrugged. “We shall be meeting in two days’ time. If your fiancé does not arrive by then, we shall call a referendum to discuss another successor. They could vote to give it to the Night Empress herself, for all I know, if her claims to King Ishkibal’s throne prove stronger than your betrothed’s. Will you at least offer to take in Lord Tattersall and his mother?”

“They will be safe with us.”

“Then that is enough—for now. Let us go, Daoming.”

The old man was already clearing away their cups, using the leftover tea to douse their fire. Fanglei stood with a soft grunt, leaning heavily on her cane. “Think about it, Zidan,” she said. “It would be ridiculous to seek an alliance with the humans if you cannot even forge a unity with the other courts. I trust that you will make the right decision.”

And then, before either Xiaodan or Malekh could interject further, both of the vampires disappeared, leaving the faint smoke rising from the remains of their campfire as the only testament of their visit. Remy looked up when he heard sudden sounds of screeching and spotted a flock of red-eyed, fanged pigeons leaving the Fata Morgana, disappearing among the clouds.