26 A NEW DAY
The other court leaders listened with grim faces as Malekh relayed what had happened that day. “I knew Isabella could be overzealous,” Hylasenth said. “But to think that she would conspire against us with the Night Empress herself?”
“She tried to kill Trin simply because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Raghnall demanded, his expression hard.
“At ease, Seventh,” Hylasenth said. “We want no further bloodshed today.”
“And it was she who killed my mother?” Lorien was moving deliberately toward Remy, who still carried Thaïs in his arms.
“Lorien—”
“Be at ease, friend.” He looked down at the injured woman. “Why?” he asked, voice pained. “Why would you all follow in such madness?”
“Because it is the only way,” Thaïs whispered. “We were optimistic at the beginning, when the sundering of the First Court promised to pave a better life for us all. But though the Night King was gone, kindred turned upon one another, their greed and lust for power further diminishing our numbers. We are all now are but a tenth of our number during the Night King’s reign, and it emboldened the humans to take up arms, to learn how to exterminate us. Isabella thought that if she could put someone of considerable power on the throne, but not so strong that she could not keep them under her eye, then everything that had led to Ishkibal’s fall could be averted. She truly believed it. I am sorry, milord. Please take my life.”
“You may not have been the hand that slew my mother, but I hold you responsible all the same,” Lorien Tattersall said. “That said, killing you will not bring my mother back, nor anyone else the Antecedents have murdered. I will find a more fitting punishment, but live you will.”
Thaïs seemed to wilt further against Remy. “Then I will accept whatever measures you choose,” she whispered.
Tears fell from the Second Court leader’s face. With a grimace, he dashed at his eyes with a sleeve. “As a first condition, you must tell us everything you know of the Night Empress and her other lairs. Where does she keep most of her coven? Will she continue her siege against the Allpriory or look elsewhere for targets?”
“Rulership of the Allpriory has always been Isabella’s objective, not Ligaya Pendergast’s. With her compulsion gone, I am sure she will not return here again. Not even my priestess knew of all the empress’s comings and goings.”
“How much of these attacks was of my mother’s volition, and how much your priestess’s doing?” Remy asked quietly. “The siege at Elouve? The attacks in Kerenai?”
But the girl could only shake her head, even that slight movement looking painful. She closed her eyes with a sigh.
“Ironic, that she who could compel armies was compelled herself,” Hylasenth noted.
“You are just as culpable,” Xiaodan said.
“Pardon?”
“You and Raghnall hunted her for years. Isabella admitted as much. You knew that she was of the First’s bloodline, that she belonged to the clan of the Whispering Isles. The Night Empress claimed it was both Alurian and vampire together that attacked the Wikaan kindred, and she was telling the truth.”
“My dear,” Fanglei said. “Had you or Malekh known, you would have surely opposed it, and there would have been far more kindred like her.”
“So it was your idea,” Malekh said.
“They did nothing to provoke you!” Xiaodan seethed. “The Wikaan vampires spent their lives in hiding. They only wished to defend themselves against Ishkibal, not to rule any throne! They would have spent the rest of their lives on their island in peace.”
“You are far more naïve than I thought,” Fanglei said coldly. “Hylasenth, Raghnall, Etrienne, and I agreed that no opposing seed of the First should be permitted to live—though Sauveterre, it seems, played us false. And yes, we did so without informing either the Third or Fourth Courts. Or the Second, as we knew Redwald had the ear of its leader.”
“So this is why you wanted me as Hierarch,” Malekh said. “As boldly as you claim that your choices were for the good of the council, you are less inclined to face the consequences of them and would rather have let me deal with the aftermath.”
“You always had first right to claim the position of Hierarch,” Fanglei said smoothly. “We merely chose not to contest it.”
“The irony is that we thought to eradicate the Wikaan bloodline by purging the isles,” the Seventh said, “and only through our folly did the Night Empress rise against us.”
“Surely you cannot agree with the Third and Fourth now, Raghnall?” Hylasenth asked.
“Our decision may yet cost me Trin.” Raghnall leaned forward and closed his eyes. “And even if she survives, I shall regret what happened to her for the rest of my life.”
“How long have you known that the Night Empress was my mother?” Remy asked, dreading the answer.
Fanglei sighed. “We knew a descendant of the Wikaan clan was under Etrienne’s protection, though we could not determine her location after he and his court perished. We did not know she was Alurian and also Lord Pendergast’s wife until rumors of their elopement occupied the gossip of the Elouvian courts. It stank of the Fifth’s machinations.”
“Would you have killed me?”
“Beluske was willing, but he died before we could talk of the matter further, and his successor, Queen Ophelia, argued against it. She and Xiaodan were friends, and your fiancée proved a much more frustrating influence than even her father. You, we knew better than to touch. Your father guarded you closely, and we knew any attack on you would start a war with Aluria that we could ill afford. Well and good that Lord Malekh took to you, and in the short span of our acquaintance, I’ve found myself growing rather fond of you as well.”
“If you worry that we still have reason to take your life, know that the time for such attempts have long since passed.” Raghnall sounded weary. “Should the Night Empress be unwilling to parlay, then we will have no choice but to resume our fight against her, considering the threat she poses to the council. As for the rest of her progeny, we hold no grudges. We have lost far too much already in this endeavor, and I have no wish to risk more.”
Hylasenth watched the other man walk away and sighed. “The Seventh is right, as jarring a change as that is,” he said. “There is little that can be done now. We thought to stamp out a threat for the betterment of our clans and failed to do so, but we shall see all this through to the end. You have the Eighth’s support still, Malekh, and I pray that you know the best means to end this once and for all.”
“And you?” Malekh asked Fanglei. “What do you intend now?”
The old woman sniffed, plucked some invisible lint from her sleeve. “Our goals remain the same. Take out the Night Empress, unite the courts. Who was in the wrong can be argued afterward. No harm shall befall your precious human—for as long as you keep the throne, of course.”
“Is that a threat, Fanglei?” Xiaodan asked stiffly.
The Sixth Court leader flashed her a smile. “Merely a promise. Now then, what are we to do next?”
THE MUTATIONS had been dealt with, their corpses inoculated and collected, to be burned once Valenbonne issued the command. Remy’s father surveyed the bloody field with some satisfaction. The soldiers not made to work on collecting the grisly bodies were setting up camp some ways from the lake.
“There’s a chance she might return,” Valenbonne said amicably. “I believe one of their leaders—Lady Fanglei Cao, was it?—has offered use of the underground temple for our lodgings, but as friendly as they are now, I doubt that I nor any of my men will want to sleep in kindred territory. And a little bird told me that the Night Empress made her way inside easily enough.”
The little bird was currently lounging by the lakeside, looking bored out of his mind. Though the other vampires eyed him wearily, the young messenger gave no indication of giving a damn.
“The kindred aided Aluria in conquering the Whispering Isles,” Remy said. “And they were hunting for Mother long before she allegedly eloped with one of the court. How much of a hand in it did Beluske have—did His Highness grant them permission to kill her? And how much of it did you know?”
Edgar Pendergast said nothing for a while, watching as his soldiers continued to stack corpses in piles before them. At least a quarter of the dead were First Court kindred; the rest had fled with their mistress, possibly the instant she’d left the Godsflame. “It was at Beluske’s insistence, after the kindred came to make the offer—the Eighth Court leader, on behalf of the Sixth and Seventh—despite my misgivings and Ophelia’s strenuous objections. I had lost my faith in His Highness long before, and when I learned that he’d tried to conspire with the kindred to kill my own wife, it was the last straw. He died suddenly, did he not?”
“Father,” Remy said, stunned. “You—you didn’t—”
“Beluske was not one to care for his own health. He enjoyed the soirées and banquets, favored his wines and his roasts far too often. So when they declared him dead of an unexpected heart ailment, no one saw reason to question it.”
“But—”
“Queen Ophelia was a far better ruler than he could ever dream to be, and his death was nothing but a boon to the kingdom. Beluske never informed me of his cooperation with the vampire courts.” Edgar Pendergast’s voice grew quiet. “I only wanted to bring her away, to protect her. Not once did I realize that she herself was kindred.”
“She was trying to protect you,” Remy said.
Valenbonne let out a bark of laughter. “You think far too highly of her, considering the devastation she’s already wrecked in two kingdoms and the vampire courts besides.”
“She watched you because even then, she wanted to find a way to be with you. She was frenzied for most of the two decades she had left, and the temple priestess’s hold on her made it even worse, but she had her lucid moments, and she spent them watching you.”
“No,” Valenbonne said, though the faint unexpected lilt in his voice gave him away. “She hated me, Remington, long before she died. I would have given her everything within my power if only she had stayed with me, trusted me. If she wanted another lover, I would have looked away, if only she had come home to me at day’s end. But she left. There was nothing she could find in me to stay.”
“Father—”
“Prepare the bonfires,” Valenbonne told Riones, who’d come running up. “The coagulants we shot into the mutations should be more than enough to prevent their resurrection, but I’d like them burning as hot as you can manage.”
“There is another option now, milord,” Xiaodan said as she stepped toward them. She held out her hands, and they glowed briefly.
“Well,” Lord Pendergast said. “By all means, and my congratulations, Lady Song. I had wondered why you were looking rather rosy today. I take it that the temple did wonders for you during your stay?”
“Unfortunately so.” Ignoring his quizzical look, Xiaodan raised her hands toward the piles of corpses before her. Light sizzled out from them, and in the space of two seconds, the dead the Alurians had piled up disintegrated so thoroughly that nothing visible remained.
There were startled gasps from the soldiers who hadn’t expected it, but Riones slumped with relief. “If only you were with us at Kerenai, milady,” he said. “We discarded the ashes as best we could with Lord Malekh’s antidote, but I was still left worrying what to do should the bits of bone stitch themselves together and rise again.”
“I am greatly indebted to you, Eugenie,” Malekh said gravely to the information gatherer, who approached them.
“Think nothing of it, Lord Malekh,” the woman said cheerfully. “I worried that the lord high steward would refuse to work with a simple vampire, but he was most accommodating. After all, if we intend to become members of the Fifth Court, then it is only natural that we strive to work with the humans.”
“You intend to join the Fifth?”
“The Lady Whittaker would be glad for our services, I think.” Eugenie smiled wistfully. “Paolo and I had never been members of any court before. But I rather think I would I like being a part of something that I have cause to believe in. That is, of course, if the Lady Whittaker doesn’t mind me bringing a familiar along.”
“I’m sure she won’t.”
“Did you hear that, Paolo?” Eugenie called out joyfully. “We’re the Fifth kindred now!”
“Ha,” her beloved said, glaring at the spot where the corpses had been, as if somehow this was their fault.
THE KINDRED had retreated to the temple underground, and Malekh and Xiaodan with them. Remy chose to linger with the soldiers’ camp instead; so many things had happened within the Allpriory that he could not be sure that he would ever be comfortable spending the night there after this. Several tents had since been set up for their use, his father having intuited his discomfort, which was a new aspect to their relationship that he also found disconcerting.
Elke had made use of that hospitality. Remy had seen her quietly sneaking into the tent Alegra had chosen for the night and thought it best to leave his best friend well alone. Alegra had been quiet and withdrawn since Yingyue’s death, and as much as he worried for her, he knew Elke would better know how to ease the woman’s pain.
He felt no pressing need to retire himself. He’d offered to take a shift to stand guard over the encampment, an offer Riones had received with horror and a flat-out refusal. Resigned in the face of the man’s stubbornness, Remy had instead retreated toward the edge of the camp, looking out over the lake. There were lesser clouds in this part of the region, and the stars were a sight to behold, having little opportunity to see them in Elouvian skies.
“Copper for your thoughts?”
Riones was back, holding two steaming mugs in his hands.
“None so valuable as that,” Remy said, accepting one. “Thank you.”
“Hot chocolate,” Riones said. “My mother used to whip up a huge batch of it, especially when the winters grew something fierce back at Castamanas. Always keep a few packets with me on the road. It’s a source of comfort to me during trying times, and I hope it bodes the same for you.”
It was thick, sweet, and creamy, just the way Remy liked it. “Elouve feels all the safer with you in charge of affairs, Riones.”
“The highest of compliments, given your contributions to its betterment, Aphelion.” At Remy’s raised eyebrow, Riones chuckled and took a sip of his drink. “You call me Riones all the time. It should not be so surprising that I would call you by your title.”
“Marquess of Riones suits you. Marquess of Aphelion feels like clothes that would never fit me.”
“Aye, you always seem more at home with Reaper or hunter. Or familiar.” Riones grinned. “So. Really? Lady Song and Lord Malekh?”
Remy winced. “Be honest with me, Riones. How have people reacted to that in Elouve?”
“Quietly, given the way the last mob was dispersed. The priests are still on their high horses, but barely anyone pays them attention now.” Riones raised his head, surveyed the night sky. “There are many who do appreciate you and what you’ve done for them,” he said. “Some you’ve never met, and so you know little of their high regard for you. Others have had time to reassess since the attack on the capital, though they are hard-pressed to admit it when they’ve made it their personality to turn their nose down on you for so long.”
“I suppose,” Remy said, thinking of the Lady Rotteburg.
“There are those who care not a whit that you’re consorting with the Third and Fourth Court leaders. Bloody hell, Lord Malekh and Lady Song helped us repel all those vampires in Elouve, and they all know it. I’m happy for you, my friend. You seem content with them, and that’s all that matters, eh?”
Remy smiled. “I appreciate you, Riones.”
“Have you any notions of returning in the future, if we are lucky enough for a longer respite? You could take back your official duties as Reaper, perhaps accept a greater role in the administration of the kingdom? Her Majesty has been very pleased with your work.”
Remy took a sip of the cocoa. “Lord Malekh and Lady Song have both asked me to join their courts,” he said quietly. “In a similar capacity.”
Riones’s eyes widened. “I suspected that it was serious, but—are you sure, Remington? Not that I would begrudge you any of this if it is what you want, but you told me you were never one for politics, and you’d be jumping headfirst into a pool of chaos.”
“I think they might be worth all that,” Remy said, looking back up at the stars. “I’ve never felt at peace in Elouve, or anywhere else in Aluria. With them… I think this is what home is supposed to feel like.”
Riones laughed softly. “You’ve got it bad, Remington. Lucky bastard. Tell those two to stop by Elouve every now and then, once the dust settles. I still owe you that drink.”
“I will,” Remy said, “though my choice of beverage by then might not be one you will find so easily in taverns, should I finally give in to temptation.”
He waited, expecting Riones to recoil from him in horror. The man’s eyes looked stunned for a brief moment as the words sunk in, but soon enough he was smiling again. “I can always ask Lady Whittaker where she finds her stores,” he said, “and I’ll open a bottle of my best wine so we can celebrate all the same.”
REMY WAS nearly asleep inside his tent by the time they returned. He only remembered the sudden burst of warmth about him as someone tucked him into the crook of their arm and felt another settle against his chest. “Took you two long enough,” he mumbled.
“We never had the chance to thank you yet, did we?” Xiaodan whispered. “For keeping us safe.”
“S’all right.”
A low hum behind him, and then the sensation of a mouth pressed against the back of his neck. Remy groaned. “Get your own cot,” he groused. “We all can’t fit in this one.”
“No,” Malekh said, voice just as rich and thick as the hot chocolate Remy had imbibed with Riones. “Try as you might, you are bound to us now.”