After days of tracking Lothaire all over the world and spying on the vampire's luxurious York penthouse, the cousins had learned much about their potential ruler-and his Bride.
Indeed, there's a catch. Lothaire's female was Elizabeth Peirce, a human "mountain girl" peasant. She was pretty for a mortal, with long dark hair and an intelligent gaze.
But humans perished so easily.
Unfortunately, transforming her into a vampire would be nigh impossible. Females rarely survived the transition, and never with Horde blood, polluted and dark as it was.
Lothaire was indeed on some kind of mission; Trehan would bet his soul that the Enemy of Old sought some way to make his Bride undying.
Lothaire's mission-combined with his madness-had made for some precarious episodes. To ensure his and Elizabeth's safety, the cousins had been forced to secretly intercede-up until the time when secrecy had no longer been possible.
The Enemy of Old now knew they were tracking him. . . .
But with each day, the vampire was healing under his female's influence. At times, he'd proved as calculating as any Dacian.
Pros: Lothaire was more powerful than any other vampire and would make a mighty regent. Cons: He remained bloodthirsty-in all senses of the term.
Still, Mirceo had already voted to install Lothaire. "A red-eyed king who bites others with impunity? My ballot reads: yes," Mirceo had said with a wink, shocking the older three cousins.
Trehan had scowled at him. "Biting isn't . . . Dacians simply don't bite others," he'd said, sounding prudish and old, even to himself. "Keeping our blood untainted is what separates us from the Horde."
"Really, Uncle? You know mated Dacians must taste each other's blood. Even if no one speaks of it. Perhaps with such a king as Lothaire, bloodtaking will be taboo no more?"
"Exchanging blood could happen accidentally," Stelian had pointed out, "but a bite is consciously done. We're above such needs."
Apparently not me. Maybe Trehan had Horde blood in his ancestry . . . ?
Viktor was on the fence about installing Lothaire, saying, "He's much worse than I'd thought. The only way I'd agree is if he figures out how to bond with his female and make her immortal. Oh, and if we withhold as much pertinent information from him as possible." Why? "So he has reason to keep us alive."
Stelian had grown dead set against Lothaire.
And Trehan? I am . . . ready. New ruler or not, the kingdom was no longer Trehan's mistress. Now he was free to serve another completely, a wide-eyed halfling he would kill to possess.
To protect. Zeii mea, I want to protect her forever.
Today, at last, he had begun.
"Welcome, all, to the Morgana show!" her godmother announced to the crowd.
Bettina sighed. This is going to be a long night. She gazed around the grandstand, noting all the changes Morgana's minions had wrought over the day.
Sorceri banners of crimson and purple now swathed the area, like slashes of paint on a gray Abaddon canvas. Crystal domes levitated above the great torches, the glass casting brilliant prisms over everything.
Was it just her, or had the Sorceri banquet table lengthened-while the demon table had shortened? And no meat graced the demons' feast, which Bettina thought was unnecessarily cruel.
Raum sat beside Bettina on the dais with his goblet all but attached to his face. He was cruising toward battle-ax mode, casting Morgana black looks.
There had to be a story between those two, something more than Bettina knew.
Morgana was in rare form tonight, dressed in her most impressive pieces. Her gold bustier was encrusted with diamonds-she called the piece her "Valkyrie slayer"-and her full-length skirt was sequined with more diamonds, hundreds of them.
Across her face, she had sapphires affixed in the shape of a mask. Her eyes glowed with her amusement, lighting the gems. But her headdress was the most awing sight to behold, a fan of gold, studded with mismatched jewels-choice heirlooms from all the Loreans she'd slain over her long life.
Bettina couldn't lift the piece by herself. Three Inferi had to heft it atop Morgana's shoulders. Yet the sorceress carried it with aplomb.
Now Morgana cupped her hand to her ear. "I said, 'Welcome to the Morgana show!' "
Sorceri cheered-frantically, as if their lives depended on it. Wise.