‘Shall I carry you back to your room?’
‘No.’ I sniff, wiping my eyes, but the tears won’t stop falling. Bertrand follows me as I stumble towards the stairs. When I bang into the wall for the second time he says nothing, scooping me up. I don’t protest, leaning against his strong chest, turning my face into his familiar bulk. The air moves and I realise we’re at my bedroom door.
‘Emelia! Are you all right?’
Kyle. My heart leaps, despite all I’ve been through.
‘My lady is tired. It has been a long day for her.’ Bertrand’s voice rumbles in his chest. I can’t see his face, but I get the impression he might be frowning.
‘Put me down, please,’ I say, wiping my face, trying to be dignified. Bertrand sets me down. I walk as smoothly as I can into my room, but my foot catches in the rug. Before I can fall Kyle is there, holding me up. I wish I could stay in his arms. Was it only a few hours ago that I was there, my world filled with joy? We stare at each other, his touch like fire, despite how cool he is.
‘Are your parents safe?’
‘Um, yes, they are. I mean, it’s all…’ My face crumples and to my horror I start crying again.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll be here to watch over you.’
I flush, despite myself, at the promise in his words.
Bertrand, disapproval in his voice, says, ‘As will I, my lady. Guard cordons will be doubled, for the next little while.’
Kyle says nothing, but his eyes meet mine briefly, a flash of silver. Then he bows, as does Bertrand. They both leave the room, closing the door.
I’m finally alone. Except for my thoughts. Kyle, of course. But, also…
Twenty people.
Humans.
Like me.
I can’t let this happen. I need to stop the Moon Harvest. If I can.
ChapterThirteen
AFTERMATH
Three nights pass. The guests all depart, the Halloween decorations taken down. The house is strange and quiet. I’m confined inside, as per my mother’s orders. It hasn’t stopped me from going up to the roof, though, watching the guards patrol the perimeter fences. I wonder if Kyle is among them. He’s been absent again, since the night of the ball, and my mind has played over a thousand scenarios as to why, and why he wouldn’t tell me he was leaving again. I asked my mother, finally, but all she said was that he was on leave, and what did it matter anyway if I wasn’t going anywhere. I hadn’t pushed it, but it didn’t mean I stopped thinking about him, lying awake during the long hours alone, reliving the sweetness of our last encounter, wanting it to happen again.
There’s been one exception to my confinement. The ashes of the dead vampires were buried, with ceremony. One of them was Daniel, the young man from Lion clan. I’d thought it a sad thing, as I stood with my parents in the cold darkness under whispering trees, that he’d come all this way only to die here, caught up in a rebellion he was no part of.
My father was more badly injured than I’d realised, many of his bones broken as well as the burns. Vampires heal quickly, especially when they feed regularly. But burning is the most devastating injury to vampires – it’s one of the only ways to kill them – and Father was alight for a second or so.
It hasn’t stopped me from trying to prevent the Moon Harvest, though. At first, my mother was indulgent, listening to my concerns. But, as the nights pass, she’s become less receptive to my pleas.
* * *
‘There must be another way!’
My mother is kneeling next to my father, who is lying on the sofa in the living room. Two of my parents’ personal guards, their livery featuring flecks of red among the silver, flank the double doors. More guards wait outside. Father’s almost completely healed, but I suppose they’re not taking any chances. James, the blood dancer who’d carried Danae from the ballroom, is sitting in a chair, head back and long limbs limp against the cushions, blood at his wrist. My mother is gently dabbing the last faint patches of red on Father’s face with a white cloth, the sweet scent of rosewater filling the room.
She sighs, leaning back on her heels. ‘This again?’
I frown.Yes, this again.‘How is sacrificing twenty lives the right thing to do? Won’t it make the rebels angrier? If Mistral missed one of their agents, he could miss another! I just don’t?—’
‘Enough!’ My mother places the cloth into a nearby silver bowl. ‘I’ve explained my decision. I don’t wish to do so again. You see how your father is, what they did to him. We must be seen to respond, and to do so in such a way that it will dissuade others from trying again.’
‘But you can’t just… kill people like that! Can’t you put them in prison or something?’
