Prologue

UT PULVIS PULVIS

Stars hung heavily in the sky the next morning. Their brilliant glow pinpricked into the inky sky above was the only light guiding Adelaide as she followed the procession of people out of the castle ruins. Dew clung to her high-tops as they left the cobblestone floor and connected with the damp hillside. She clutched the silk shift she wore in her fists and lifted the hem to avoid tripping on the sheer fabric.

A light breeze off the loch shifted the dense fog over the water and tousled her curls, now a loose waterfall of red down her back. She mimicked the steps of those around her—slow and steady in a temperate cadence that matched the movement of the water nearby. Slivers of moonlight illuminated their pale mourning clothes like forlorn apparitions haunting the hillside. Flickers of light sprang to life near the water’s edge as the fire of a single flame spread from candle to candle, crowding out the night around the mass of mourners.

Adelaide clenched her fists to keep them from shaking. She’d never been good at funerals, even before she’d had to bury her parents. That day itself had been a blur, consisting of enough condolences and casseroles to last her a lifetime. Grief was a shadow, a constant presence in her peripherals. Some days it was less noticeable than others, but she could never quite seem to shake it. More than a year later, she still found herself turning to talk to her mother or share a joke with her father, but the air beside her only ever stirred with words unspoken.

At the front of the crowd, two wooden boats sat half-propped on shore. Though they were identical, it wasn’t hard to tell which one held Barrow, one of the two Kindred they had lost at initiation. Al Capone’s descendant Teo stood beside the boat on the left. His hand moved slowly along the bow, absentmindedly tracing the carvings on the Viking-style canoe. Head bowed, he whispered words lost in the wind and crossed himself. He let his hand drop and turned on his heel. His footsteps cut short as his eyes connected with something in the crowd.

Adelaide followed his gaze to a shock of dirty-blond curls, layered like an Impressionist painting. Colden, Van Gogh’s descendant, dragged his eyes from the boats to Teo, not quite meeting the young man’s gaze. He nodded his condolences, guilt coloring his demeanor. Though it had been an accident, he stilled played a role in Barrow’s death. His cousin Elise put a comforting, yet protective hand on his arm. Adelaide half expected an outburst, but Teo simply stuffed his hands in his pockets, ducked his head against the wind, and blended back into the crowd.

Unsure where to go, Adelaide scanned the others blanketing the hillside. As with the gathering in the coliseum, there seemed to be intentional division to the groupings scattered about, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was or where she fit. Since bloodlines seemed like a safe bet for division, Adelaide searched for Xander, her childhood friend and descendent of Elizabeth I. Now that she knew they were family as far as history and the Red Rose Society was concerned, maybe it was time to let it all go and forgive him. She was still angry, but after watching Teo say goodbye to Barrow, she better understood why Xander had cut her out the way he did. Knowing what he did about the Red Rose Society, what she was learning, he couldn’t risk a scenario where she was in the boat and he was on the shore.

She spotted him near the front of the crowd. Xander’s back, arched with tension, was turned to her as he conversed in a low, clipped voice with Matriarch, the Red Rose Society’s leader and his grandmother. Her hair fell in a straight curtain around her shoulders. The flicker of candles cast her silver strands in a sheen of copper.

As Adelaide wove her way through the crowd to the front, her eyes skipped over Xander and connected with the young man several steps behind him. Light from the dancing flame softened Kolt’s features, recalling Adelaide to her youth and a time when she and Xander had run wild through the woods in her backyard with another boy whose emerald eyes and dark hair juxtaposed his cousin. The memory was fresh and vivid, like the luster of a baked oil painting. If she closed her eyes, she could almost lose herself in its warmth.

“You remembered.”

Adelaide shook the memory away, surprised to see her feet had carried her to Kolt and not Xander. Their voices, the only trait they seemed to share, were similar in resonance, but where Xander’s was light and airy, Kolt’s was smooth and rich. She thought back to the memory—sunlight filtering through the trees, colored leaves crunching beneath their feet, the smell of snickerdoodles fresh on the air, and something else… colored pages shared in secret. Despite the somber atmosphere, she found herself smiling.

“You were the boy with the comic books when we were young. If I remember correctly, you had quite an extensive collection for a kid.”

Kolt grimaced. “I was kind of hoping that was one of those details that slipped through the cracks.”

“Not a chance. But how did you know it was me earlier?”

He nodded to her feet. “Your shoes. I was with Xander when he painted them for you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as proud of a painting as he was when he finished them.”

Adelaide looked down at her shoes, caked with remnants of the streets of Paris. She thought back to when she found the box, carefully wrapped in colored paper on the table in her and Xander’s clubhouse. She’d run there, barefoot and in the dark, from the neighbor’s house a few days after the fire. In her anger and grief, she’d shoved the box off the table. Its solid thud to the ground was enough to pique her interest and distract her as she tore the paper off in furious strips. When she first put the shoes on, she did so out of spite. But they soon became a shield she wielded like the superhero in Kolt’s comics.

She glanced at Xander, suddenly aware of all the possibilities that could have been if her world had not become a series of “what ifs.” She cleared her throat and inclined her head toward Xander. “I’m actually on my way up there, but your grandmother doesn’t seem to be in the best mood. I could use some backup.”

Kolt shook his head and his eyes slowly shifted from Matriarch to Xander. “I better stay here, but you should go.”

Adelaide shrugged. “That’s okay.” She turned to stand beside him and faced the front. “If we’re all family over here, I guess it doesn’t matter where I stand.

Kolt looked like he wanted to say more, but as he did in the hallway when she’d first arrived, he kept his words to himself. Instead, he cast his gaze to the boats. “You’d think after years of these things I’d be used to them by now, but I’m glad I’m not.”

Juniper, the Red Rose Society’s Keeper and Adelaide’s boss from the diner, crossed the bank in front of the boats, coming to rest between the two. A brazier burned brightly behind her. The silver of her head scarf shone like a halo around her pale curls. Fatigue morphed her features as if she felt the weight of Barrow and Jonas’ deaths in a physical way, but as she spoke, authority rang in her voice strong and clear as she paid tribute to the lives lost. When she finished, Xander stepped forward and grabbed a torch from Juniper. Matriarch moved to do the same, but Juniper stopped her. “Adelaide.”

The crowd shifted, splitting a path between her and the front. Heat rushed to her face as the weight of their eyes settled on her shoulders. Xander’s face shifted as his eyes skipped over her to Kolt a few steps behind her. She felt a gentle push between her shoulder blades, coaxing her forward. She looked back at Kolt as he nodded his encouragement and let her feet carry her toward Juniper. The woman set a gentle hand on Adelaide’s arm and handed her the other torch. “This is your part to play now, sugar. The Stuart blood in your veins is more than just a marking of your heritage. It’s a birthright.”

Adelaide looked to Matriarch, her face a series of hard angles in the night. She straightened her posture and stepped back making room for Adelaide on the side of the brazier opposite Xander. She met his eyes across the flames as he dipped his torch in fire and stepped before the bow of Jonas’ boat. She did the same, waves of heat rolling over her skin as she waited for the fire to catch and mirrored Xander, stepping before Barrow’s boat. Several men, including both of her friends’ fathers, pushed Jonas’ boat off shore. Xander watched it glide into the water. He tossed the torch into the heart of the boat, whispering words as the flame ignited. “Ut pulvis pulvis.” Dust to dust.

The men moved on to Barrow’s boat, sending it into the water beside Jonas. Adelaide drew her arm back, thinking of Barrow, of Jonas and Brynn, the woman in the alley and her parents as she let the torch go. Sparks caught the dry wood, engulfing the boat and Barrow inside. Wind whipped Adelaide’s curls. The boats grew smaller as the seconds stretched before her like the parallel trails rippling across the loch. Fog clouded the boats, the fire still burning brightly in the darkness over the water.

“Ut pulvis pulvis.”