When we reached the colonnades, I shouted, “Ant.”
He froze a few feet from his carriage, still clutching Rirth’s elbow as if the younger man might try to break free and fight the entire coven of vampires. Turning to face me, Antones lifted his brow. Rirth stayed with his back facing us.
“With Dimmon, Peltos, and the leadership of the Diplomats dead,” I said, making my voice strong and stern, “there will be a gang of feral, hungry younglings roaming the streets of Nuhav, getting into trouble, looking for guidance. I expect you to absorb the remaining Diplomats into the Grimsons order.”
Antones replaced his frown with a mock smile. He swept into a low bow, sarcastic with its flamboyance. “Your wish is mine to execute, mistress.”
I clenched my jaw. “I trust you to do the right thing, like you did at the auction house.”
He straightened, reaching for the carriage to make his escape with Rirth. “You don’t need to trust me to do anything, lass. I know rightness. Do you?”
Then they were gone, leaving me with those parting words of anger and hurt. They didn’t have a chance to recover Culiar’s body because it was currently being ripped to shreds and feasted upon by the noblebloods of Lord Ashfen’s court.
The four of us watched the carriage roll away into the bleak, empty night. The sounds of revelry continued to blast behindus, creating a contrast with the gentle, quiet rhythms of the squeaking wheels in front of us.
With the fighting and bloodletting complete, the night would delve into an orgiastic free-for-all. I couldn’t stomach being around for it.
“I had a speech prepared,” Skar said, “to introduce you to the throng, little temptress.” He smiled cruelly at me. “After your display, I don’t believe it is necessary.”
Vallan added, “No one can say you don’t know how to make an entrance, silverblood. This night may have been difficult for you, but it will prove beneficial.”
Their words of encouragement disgusted me.I have become them, these monsters. A villain in truth. And my former friends like Rirth will never forgive me.
Garroway looked up at the windows of the estate, eyes narrowing. “Still a less disastrous evening than the previous gala, with the assassination attempt and Mistress Mortis’ attack.”
I flared my nostrils at the grayskin, spinning around to enter the manor so I could retreat upstairs and lock myself away. “Less disastrous in whose eyes, Garro? Maybe we should ask Culiar.”
The following months were spent planning our raid on the Tanmount—the ten-story banking compound set in the center of the Commerce Ward, housing untold treasures.
The Relic was the only treasure we cared about.
After my botched “outing” into Olhavian society, I took days to recover. The trio neglected to include me in the strategizing sessions until I recuperated from my stupor. They offered me gentle guidance and more words of encouragement, until they realized their words fell on deaf ears and only made me angrier.
As it turned out, Skar was right: My diabolical foray at the shadowgala had a more profound effect on the rebellion than any speech he could have made.
“They fear you,” Skartovius told me one evening, as the malaise of that awful night was beginning to fade. “That’s exactly what you need with a group like this.”
Vallan, always quick to add a counterpoint, said, “Surely you did not expect to be loved and cherished by vampires, silverblood?”
“No, I did not. I simply wished Culiar had not died. Everything would have worked out fine had he lived.”
“Would it have?” Garro asked from a corner of my chambers. I was currently using the largest bedroom in the manor, on the second floor, for my languishing.
He explained, “If your friend had lived, you would’ve never had the impromptu decision to slay Dimmon and Peltos, which solidified your status.”
Vallan grunted with a nod. “It was meant to be.”
I shook my head, hand to my brow as I ran slow circles around my temples to ease a budding headache.
“As I said,” Skar continued, sweeping through the room to come stand before me at the ornate bed. “Fear is the greatest weapon to keep the commons in line. I should know—I’ve been wielding it for decades.”
“I don’t want to be like you. No offense.”
He chuckled. “You are more like me than you wish to admit.”
Vallan pushed off from the wall, headed for the door. “In my missions around the city and the mines, I’ve seen the Hellwhore name stick for our little hellion. At first I meant to strike it down and punish those who spoke it aloud. I have since recognized its usefulness and have done no such thing.”
Skar quipped, “Keep doing nothing. It will resonate among the populace.”
