AN AUDIENCE

Remy had never given the queen of Aluria much thought as a person, though he had spent the better part of his life fighting in her name. With the death of Lord High Steward Astonbury, the Reapers in her court had fallen into disarray, unsure which noble clamoring for the lord high steward’s position to obey.

Lord Feiron was the next highest-ranking official to assume the late duke’s duties, but Lord Feiron was not the type to inspire confidence or loyalty or any minimum standard of competence. Astonbury’s underlings had been handpicked not for meritocracy, but for their inability to scheme independently of the duke. As much as Remy had disliked Matthew Delacroix, the man had had a penchant for managing government secrets and dealing with court intrigues that very few could hope to master. His loss had been bad enough for the queen herself to summon Remy and the vampires to her court to try and make sense of the chaos Astonbury had left behind, preempting Xiaodan’s intentions of seeking an audience with her.

Queen Ophelia was not a young woman, and she was handsome rather than beautiful. Her hair had reddish highlights that spoke of some old Kerenai ancestry, but her high cheekbones and dark eyes were Ashrai hallmarks. She had no need for a crown to radiate power. Holding Aluria together was no easy task, but Remy was surprised to see Her Majesty in a fighting habit not unlike those worn by the kingdom’s Reapers. The queen usually favored elaborate gowns and heavy veils during her rare public appearances.

“I see that you’ve uncovered many things surrounding my lord high steward’s death, Zidan,” she remarked, and Remy was astonished by the familiarity with which she greeted the Summer Lord and the Fourth Court heiress as they approached her throne. “Couldn’t you have waited for an official summons from me, rather than intrude on royal business with such impunity?” Harsh as the words sounded, they were underscored by her warm, genial tone, a far cry from the stern one she adopted when holding court.

“It’s good to see you again, Ophelia,” Malekh murmured.

Xiaodan was far more brazen, rushing forward to catch the older woman in a joyful embrace. The queen laughed and returned the favor, while Remy continued to stare in amazement. Granted, he knew deucedly little of politics, concerning himself with the threat of rogue vampires and little else. He’d seen the political maneuvering his father had to do to maintain his waning influence and had decided that life was too short for such headaches. This did explain how the Alurian-kindred alliance was flourishing even with vocal opposition from some in Her Majesty’s court.

He wasn’t the only one caught off guard by their friendship. The throne room had been cleared of its courtiers and regular hangers-on, leaving only her trusted officials: Gaspard Lopes, the minister of the interior; Montgomery Bellinger, the queen’s general-at-arms; and a dozen of his best soldiers, all tacit enough not to make their own surprise evident beyond a slight, uneasy shift in their stance. Bellinger went so far as to allow a faint curl of a sneer to adorn his upper lip.

None of the queen’s men liked the vampires. It showed in their silent stares, the way their fingers never left the triggers of their fire lances. Word of Xiaodan’s sunbringing abilities had likely spread. It was obvious in the way Her Majesty was saying nothing about it. All the Reapers and soldiers that manned the entrance to the palace and down the hallway into the throne room had glared at Xiaodan and Malekh like she was an explosion waiting to happen.

“And how are things at Qing-ye, my dear?” Queen Ophelia asked Xiaodan fondly. “Are Candy and Vanilla still as rambunctious as ever?”

For some reason, the question sent the vampire into bouts of laughter. “They are the same as they ever were and shall continue to be, and I am very glad for it. They miss you, too.”

“Tell me more about this serum you’ve developed to aid us in this infectious menace,” the queen demanded. “How did you succeed in synthesizing a counteractant when the best minds I could gather in all of Aluria failed?”

“Your own scientists were close to making their own breakthrough. They merely lacked the kindred blood required to speed up the neutralization process.” Zidan placed a vial similar in appearance to the one he had used on Harveston on the table before Queen Ophelia. “This should be enough to create several dozen more sedatives for the bodies still lying in stasis in the Archives’ laboratory. I have left more canisters with Minister Lopes.” Malekh nodded to the minister of the interior, who ducked his head in wordless acknowledgment. “Dr. Agenot is already working on replicating more.”

Queen Ophelia pressed her fist against her forehead, a customary sign asking the Light for strength. “And whose vampiric blood did you use for this wonderful cure?”

Malekh chuckled. “That would infringe on doctor-patient confidentiality, Your Majesty. And it’s not a cure—not yet. A preventative, at best.”

“You have my gratitude all the same, my dear Zidan. It would have taken longer to re-create this on our own.” The queen’s eyes darkened. “Tell me that this was not a deliberate disease engineered on both our people, milord. That this sickness has natural origins, that there is no attempt by outside forces to turn my kingdom into a hellscape of rabid, uncontrollable undead.”

“Or an attempt to turn us against each other, to start a war that neither of us wants or can afford,” Malekh said, just as grimly.

“I have children, milord. This is not the legacy I wish to bequeath upon them. Is there no way to reverse the process for those at the earliest stage of the Rot?”

“I am a doctor, Your Majesty, not a miracle worker. The coagulants will harden their blood, immobilizing the flow of the strain, rendering it harmless—and sending the affected into a vegetative state. It cannot reverse their deaths.”

“Yet vampires are immune to the disease?”

“Vampires already turned, yes. The mutated can mimic the speed and strength we possess but suffer from a near-permanent frenzy and a loss of mental acuity. To say that they are vampires themselves would be inaccurate—they are merely a horrific parody of us.”

“So the only sure prevention is to avoid being bitten.” Queen Ophelia sighed and turned to the general. “Sir Bellinger, send word to Dr. Agenot to dispose of every corpse within the Ministry of the Archives. Gather them all at Giantsmound and prepare them for kindling.”

“Your Majesty, surely there is another—”

“I want the light burning bright enough to be seen from my palace, milord. I give Lady Song leave to do what she must to prevent their resurrection. I will compensate the victims’ families for the trouble we have caused them, but we cannot take any more chances. Incidentally, my dear Xiaodan”—and here the queen’s tone turned reproachful—“you never told me you held such vast abilities. I thought only the Ancients were capable of such unique skills? And you not having reached your first century yet.”

“It was long after our first meeting, Your Majesty,” Xiaodan said, looking exhausted. “You could say it was passed down from my ancestors. I have kept quiet about the extent of it for a reason. There are enough kindred clans out there who believe I do not deserve to live.”

“But you revealed it to us. Would that not put you in more danger?”

“As it turns out, only I am capable of eradicating these creatures permanently with it. That danger, at the moment, far surpasses my own.”

The queen softened. “Oh, my dear. I am sorry for this, and all the trouble people have done in my name. I have given the Duke of Astonbury far too much leeway in this matter, believing he would make the proper decisions, but I see that my faith in him has been mistaken.”

“He weighed the risks against the potential rewards,” Malekh said. “Finding a cure would have been a major coup to his career, his place in history secured. It is easy to underestimate the infected, to look upon them as mindless creatures that could be easily outsmarted.”

“They’re not completely mindless,” Remy muttered, forgetting briefly that at least two others in the room had even better preternatural hearing than he.

“Oh?” Malekh’s voice now carried a tinge of mockery. “How so?”

Remy bristled. “Because if it was driven solely by its urges, then the corpse in the Archives would have stayed and fought Lady Song. Not attempted to escape. That’s not what something completely shorn of its brains would do.”

“This must be the Pendergast Reaper,” the queen said, acknowledging him for the first time. Awkwardly, Remy bowed. “Remington Pendergast, Marquess of Aphelion. Son of the Duke of Valenbonne. Far more courteous than his father,” Queen Ophelia added with a faint twitch to her lips, “though every bit as dedicated to serving us as his sire has always done. He may have a valid point that you must also consider, Zidan. Last I heard, Lord Feiron had him held as a potential suspect.”

“He was cleared of all charges and accusations, Your Majesty,” Xiaodan piped up. “In fact—and I hope you don’t mind my overstepping—but I’d taken the liberty of asking for his assistance in our own investigations. He would be a tremendous asset to us.”

“I have heard of his exploits,” Queen Ophelia conceded. “It has only just come to my knowledge that Matthew Delacroix’s hatred of his father was such that he had actively banned everyone from the Pendergast family from joining the dræfendgemot.”

That had been the general assumption, but it felt like a blow to Remy, to hear her confirm it so baldly.

Queen Ophelia looked him full in the face. “We entrusted the lord high steward with Aluria’s defense, but I never stopped to consider how his own biases have made this an unjust situation for you, and we wish to make amends for it. Whatever enmity he had for the Duke of Valenbonne, that anger should not have been extended to you simply for sharing his name. Regardless of who succeeds Astonbury, I will ensure your welcome into the royal dræfendgemot if you still desire it.”

“You’re too kind, Your Majesty,” Remy mumbled, feeling more pitied than victorious.

“Absolutely not!” Xiaodan interjected heatedly. “You had your chance, my dear Ophelia, but his talents would be wasted there. He shouldn’t be relegated to running errands for high-ranking Reapers with just as little sense for governance as Lord Feiron. Your lord high steward has already turned the nobility against him. His death will not lessen the Reapers’ prejudice.”

“And what do you propose I do with him instead?” the queen asked.

“Zidan and I intend to leave Elouve shortly to pursue his theories regarding the Rot. Please, give us leave to have Armiger Remington accompany us.”

“What?” Remy asked once again.

Her Majesty raised a tawny eyebrow. “And why are you so determined to have him?”

“Because Remy deserved to join Your Majesty’s official circle of Reapers,” Xiaodan said with an alarming honesty Remy did not necessarily want, “and your lord high steward, Matthew Astonbury, may his soul rest in peace, was being an absolute twat about it.” She spoke the word with delight, drawing it out on her tongue like she’d never had the opportunity to say it before. “I’ve dragged enough information from Lord Feiron to know how Astonbury constantly undermined Armiger Remington’s successes in the hunts he had undertaken for the Crown, claimed the victory in his stead, and then went out of his way to deny the armiger his accolades.”

“Successes?”

“He hunted the vampire who murdered three dozen people north of Enumbra. He took down the coven that nearly depopulated the villages near Wargen. He retrieved Tennyfair’s daughter. He staked the only known First Court vampire lurking within Aluria in close to a decade—his first mission, in fact. Need I go on? Because I have nearly ten years’ worth of kills to list.”

A light breeze would have been capable of bowling Remy over at this point. She had researched his history somehow, known achievements that the Archives had never credited him with.

“An impressive record for one still so young.” Queen Ophelia quirked up a brow. “But you seem strangely proud to talk about the different ways he has slain your kindred.”

“They were no kindred of mine. Remington isn’t the only one feared by his own kind.”

“I see your point.” The queen leaned back against her throne. “The Enumbran vampire. I remember. Astonbury told me it was Reapers under his direct command who were responsible for putting it down.”

“Lies and spite, Ophelia. Astonbury remained livid at the thought of another Pendergast earning merits within his administration. Everyone has treated Armiger Remington abominably—even Lady Astonbury, who sought to take advantage of him with sexual favors for information he should have been privy to in the first place. Regardless of whom you choose to replace the late duke with, the other Reapers will continue to inflict these injustices upon him.”

Xiaodan turned to eye the minister and the other soldiers in the throne room. “As will almost everyone else at court,” she added coldly.

Remy, far from being grateful, was beet red. It was one thing to be indiscreet with someone else’s wife, but another to announce it to the queen. He wished for the ground to open and swallow him up, but he had never been so lucky.

“Why not ask the Reaper himself?” The queen looked at him with mischief in her gaze, fully aware of his discomfort. “What say you, Armiger Remington? Would you like a dispensation to promote you into the royal dræfendgemot with all the honors you deserve, or would you like to accompany the Third and Fourth Courts on their investigations, on Aluria’s behalf?”

The first option was easier to take. Easier to take his place among the other Reapers, regardless of what they thought. Easier to concentrate on the Night Empress, to finally earn access to reports on the First Court without having to compromise himself. Far easier than to embroil himself in the middle of an ongoing plague, and with two vampires besides.

“If it pleases you, Your Majesty,” he said. “I’d like to investigate the Rot with the Third and Fourth Courts.”

The queen leaned forward. “And may I know the reason for it?”

Remy swallowed, remembering the betting pool, the bounties. “I believe I can be a greater asset to Aluria with them. And I am grateful for your offer, but I hope for more than the mere tolerance the dræfendgemot will ever afford me in Elouve.”

Xiaodan’s smile was as bright as the sun. In contrast, Zidan Malekh’s scowl was like a thundercloud on the cusp of a terrible storm.

---

“HOW DO you know Her Majesty so well?” Remy asked after the queen had dismissed them, proud of the evenness in his tone. Malekh had insisted on leaving the following day once Xiaodan had taken care of the Archives’ infected. More attacks had been reported along the eastern borders of Aluria near Qing-ye, and the vampire nobles intended to conduct their inquiries there. It was further confirmation of the reports Remy had received earlier.

The hallway they were standing in remained deserted. The usual courtiers and hangers-on who often loafed around the palace were missing, and he suspected that had been on Queen Ophelia’s orders. Many in the court were still opposed to her alliance with the vampires, if the reaction of Her Majesty’s officials in the throne room had been any indication.

“Ophelia was quite young when we first met her, newly raised to the throne. She stumbled upon Chànggē Shuĭ—my home—by accident one day, and I offered her a place to stay for a few nights. I’d never had human visitors before. She’d never been under a vampire’s roof. It was awkward at first.” Xiaodan grinned. “She’s visited many times since then. Taught me how to serve excellent venison, should I entertain more mortals in the future.”

“She arrived at your palace by accident?”

“A matter of a horde of vampires at her heels. They’d slaughtered nearly half her retinue and would have gotten her, too, if I hadn’t sensed them near my territory.” Xiaodan laughed at the look on his face. “I should have mentioned that earlier. You might enjoy staying at Chànggē Shuĭ too, Remy. No valets. Lots of space for peace of mind. I think it’s rather pretty, even for a fortress.”

“So we’re traveling back to your home at some point during this journey?”

“We live east of Aluria’s borders. With all the reports of infections near there, it’s the perfect location for us to set up base, assess the situation, and figure out what we should do next. We’ll likely take a few detours along the way, based on any fresh reports we receive. The attacks appear to be shifting toward Qing-ye, which worries me. There aren’t as many Fourth Court vampires around to secure the territories around it.” She hesitated, mournful. “It would be good to go home. I haven’t been back in months. Zidan would have more ideas by the time we return—he’s always been the brains between us two. I’m just the muscle.”

“What does that make me, then?” Remy muttered.

“The bait,” Zidan supplied.

Remy rounded on him, glaring, but the noble met him stare for unyielding stare. “As Xiaodan said, we’ll be encountering more infected the farther east we go, if even half of those reports can be confirmed. Your mother has never been fond of Reapers, Xiaodan, and she will not be happy to have the Butcher’s son in Chànggē Shuĭ. Whatever assistance you believe he can provide, he would be best used as lure.”

“Are you saying you don’t want him with us, Zidan?” Xiaodan didn’t seem as ready to defend Remy to her fiancé the way she’d defended him to the queen. She was smiling, her guard relaxed. “Say the word, and I’ll let him go.”

“Nobody’s letting anyone go from anything,” Remy snapped, stung to be relegated to a bartered good once again. “If you’re suggesting that I would be nothing more than a liability, or that I won’t be up to the task, then at least have the fucking guts to say it to my face.”

Amber-flecked eyes turned to him. “You are a liability,” Zidan Malekh said, as easily and as calmly as if he’d been discussing the weather. “You are a prized meal, an easy target. You only know enough about court vampires to hunt us, not of our ways. And while you may possess your father’s skills, it will be years before you can acquire his experience. So yes, Pendergast. You will be a hindrance to us in more ways than you know. And the only reason you are even here…” Malekh’s gaze flicked briefly toward Xiaodan. “The only reason you are here, traveling with us,” he said, “is because she wishes to protect you.”

“I don’t need any bloody protection.” They were both goddamn bloodyarsed vampires—of course he would be the weakest of their unholy trio. But Remy hadn’t survived what other Reaper veterans could not, only to be told by some pompous undead noble who had no idea of the shit he’d been through that he was a burden. “If you didn’t want me along, then why didn’t you bring that up before Her Majesty?”

“I would never be so improper as to undermine Xiaodan before a foreign power, ally or otherwise. Even if my betrothed had neglected to inform me of her decision beforehand.”

Xiaodan’s answering smile was a mile wide.

“Do I have to fucking fight you again to prove myself?” Remy demanded. “What the hell is it going to take to show you I’ve got as much right to be here as you?”

“Fight me, you say?” Malekh’s sudden spark of interest brought out more of the gold in his eyes. “And what do I get when you inevitably lose this wager?”

“Lady Song?” a new voice called. “Lord Malekh?”

The Duchess of Astonbury was fashionably dressed for mourning. She was clothed all in black, but even the veil across her face couldn’t detract from her beauty, or the way she honed in on Remy with an eagerness that had nothing to do with grief. “I was told you both shall be leaving with Remington tomorrow at the queen’s orders,” she said boldly, “and as I will be busy making the necessary preparations for my husband’s funeral…” She let out a soft sigh, as if she found these arrangements more cumbersome than anything else. “May I have a few minutes to speak with Remington alone, milord, milady?”

Two pairs of eyes turned to Remy—Zidan’s expressionless, Xiaodan’s openly wary. “I’ll be back with you shortly,” he told them, moving several feet away to give himself and the duchess the privacy she asked for.

“I am devastated to hear that you are leaving,” Giselle said softly. Her eyes looked suspiciously shiny. Remy knew it had nothing to do with her husband’s passing, uncomfortably aware that it was because of him. “And I am even sorrier to hear of Lord Feiron taking you into custody. Had I known, I would have demanded your release sooner. It’s a—an insult, my love, knowing what they do about us.”

“They were only doing their jobs.”

“And doing quite terribly at it.” Her hands found his coat lapels. “I am going to miss you. I thought we would have more time together. Spend tonight with me. Let me send you off with final memories to remember me by.”

Remy looked down at the Duchess of Astonbury, at the soft glow in her eyes. She really was stunning.

“Do you remember,” he said, “the first time I came to your bed?”

The woman’s rosy cheeks dimpled. Her voice lowered, a throaty purr. “I could never forget. How shy you were. How you could not keep your eyes away from me when I disrobed.” She laid her fingers against the side of his neck. “The look on your face, the rough sounds you made. The pleasure of being your first teacher. I recall them fondly.”

Remy’s hand reached up to find hers, curling over her fingers. “Do you want to know what I remember in clearest detail from that night?”

“Tell me,” Giselle whispered, gliding closer.

“That the subject was five foot nine inches in height, approximately two-twenty pounds and of a stocky build, with blue eyes and brown hair. Believed to have been turned near the forests between Laithe and Sandsbourne, responsible for the deaths of five cows, seven horses, and two children. A broken star on the back of his right hand, as confirmed by two eyewitness accounts—a mark of those beholden to the Night Court.”

Giselle frowned, puzzled by the unexpected shift in conversation.

“That was the first report you ever brought me. The only known sighting of a First Court vampire in the last ten years. I read it so many times after you’d fallen asleep, and I can still recall it word for word. The next day, I rode out and took that vampire down—my first kill as a Reaper, after all the months spent on the register, months spent being denied my own bounties. They docked me my two months’ pay because they had not authorized me to carry that hunt out, and every other bounty they shoved my way after that were always the ones they refused to handle themselves. But finally—finally—I was a Reaper, hunting as one. You made that possible for me. And I will always be grateful to you for that.”

Gently, Remy pulled her hand from his neck. “But I can’t do this with you anymore, Giselle. I’m sorry.”

“Your minutes are up,” Xiaodan said, popping up from behind Lady Giselle without warning. The latter gasped aloud. “There will be much to plan for the journey ahead, and we will be requiring the rest of his time for it, Your Grace. And while I am not as well-versed on human etiquette as I suppose I should be, I do know that it is considered highly disrespectful for you to be inviting anyone to your bed so soon after your husband’s murder, even if you and Astonbury were living separately.”

The duchess’s mouth fell open.

“Have a good day, Lady Astonbury.” Xiaodan didn’t quite drag Remy away, but a subtle push against his arm was all it took to propel him back down the hallway, Malekh close behind.

“How did you find out about… about…” Remy’s ears were steaming. It wasn’t a secret. Given how confidently she stated matters before Queen Ophelia, she had more than overheard his earlier admission to Feiron at Kinaiya Lodge.

“I didn’t intend to,” Xiaodan said calmly, “but it was hard not to hear what people in this city speak of so freely. In our brief acquaintance, you struck me as someone far too kindhearted to turn her down yourself, despite all the years she abused you. They kept you longer in the gaols than my patience allowed for, and finding a way to release you sooner meant learning everything I could of you that was relevant to this case. I’m sorry I had to intrude on your privacy.”

“Abuse? But she wasn’t—” And here, Remy took another pause. “It wasn’t—it’s not—”

“How old were you when the affair started, Remy?”

“I—” He’d treated it as a simple matter of exchanging favors, like bearing equal responsibility had meant he’d never been taken advantage of. But that was his excuse now, as a twenty-three-year-old who’d grown cynical over the years. Xiaodan was treating him like he was still the scared fifteen-year-old he’d been when the affair had started. And maybe that was the point. “Young,” he finally said. “Perhaps it was younger than I should have—”

“Younger than she should have,” Xiaodan said sympathetically, and suddenly, Remy knew Malekh had been right earlier when he’d said that Xiaodan had intended to protect Remy. Only it wasn’t other vampires that she’d been thinking of.

The Fourth Court heiress’s face was a study in calm, but her balled fists continued to give her away. “I apologize,” she said again. “But you must tell me the truth. Would you still be with her if she wasn’t supplying you with the intelligence reports you needed for the Night Empress’s whereabouts?”

The answer required no thought at all. “No.”

“Good. That’s all I needed to hear.” Xiaodan turned to Malekh next. “And you. If you dislike the thought of Remy joining us, it would be best if you speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“I said he would be a liability—”

“That’s not the question, Zidan.”

Their gazes locked, clashed. It was Malekh who gave in, almost sounding bored when he replied, “He can do whatever he wants, and I shall make no protest.”

A sudden tumult by the palace entrance caught their attention. Remy knew it was bad upon sighting the Marquess of Riones, the man all bloody as hell, with scores and tears in his usually impeccably expensive shirt and coat. His sword was out, dripping red onto the pavement. Behind him people fled past, heading west like stampeding cattle toward the city square, herded along by several more Reapers.

“Protect the queen, do you hear me?” Riones was shouting. “I want every Reaper on active and reserve duty guarding every inch of the palace! Let no one inside or out until we’ve cleared the Archives!”

“The Archives?” Remy yelled at him. “What’s happening, Riones? What of the Archives?”

“Where have you been, Pendergast? The Archives is being overrun!” came the chilling reply. “Tell the guards to round up as many citizens as they can and head toward the barracks! We’ve got the Rot in the city, and I don’t know how long we can hold them off!”

Remy’s insides felt like lead. “How?”

“It’s those damned corpses Astonbury wanted kept in that oversized ice room of his! They’ve reawakened, and they’re out for our blood!”