“Oh.” A hot rush of tears threatens to spill over all of a sudden, but I take a deep breath and blink them away. I won’t cry in front of him. I won’t do anything that might make this any harder than it already is. “Then… I’ll see you after.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. Once, twice. “You will,” he says, and lets me go, and leaves me.
I force myself to breathe as I look around. I’m at the bottom of a set of great stone stairs, leading up to an ancient-looking mansion. It’s all red brick and dark gable roofs, spires foreboding against the night sky, unnervingly quiet despite the violence that I know is about to occur within its walls.
I don’t know what to do or where to go. Surely I’ll be allowed inside to watch, at least. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I can’t abandon Claude among his enemies. Still, the thought of standing in the crowd alone, watching it unfold, makes another wave of tears threaten to overwhelm me. Claude said he wanted the Vulpe Court as witnesses, and I’ve seen how they treat him. Will I be the only one here not rooting for his death?
Then footsteps approach. “Nora.”
I gasp, and the tears finally spill over as I turn toward the familiar voice. “Benjamin.” I throw my arms around his neck. “You came.”
“Of course I did.” He’s stiff in my embrace, clearly unused to such physical affection. But he wraps one arm around me and pats me on the back with the other, which is surprisingly reassuring. “God, Nora. What happened? Is it true that Ambrose hurt you?”
“Not badly,” I say.
His expression darkens as his gaze falls to the bruises around my neck. “Assaulting a valentine,” he murmurs. “I didn’t think he’d have the gall.”
“I’m more afraid of what he’ll do to Claude.” I’m sick with it, now that we’re here. My heart is pounding so hard, I’m dizzy. “Is it possible for Claude to win?”
“I…” Benjamin’s grip on me loosens, and I slip free, trying and failing to catch his eye. “I really don’t know, Nora. I’m not sure why he demanded the old right instead of letting Vulpe handle the transgression against you. I wish I could offer more hopeful news, but…”
Anxiety is a jagged thing in my chest, digging shards into my insides. “I don’t understand why he would do this either,” I say. “Claude isn’t a fighter.”
“He wasn’t.”
I start at the half-familiar voice, and Benjamin and I both turn to see a vampire approaching. Dark hair, dark eyes, fine black clothing.
I curtsy after a startled pause. “Lord Sebastian?” It comes out a question. I glance at Benjamin, but he seems surprised, too, though he covers it with a bow.
“Miss Nora.” Sebastian inclines his head. “Amelia sends her support. She wanted to come too, but I abhor the thought of her witnessing this kind of violence.”
“I’m surprised that was enough to dissuade her,” Benjamin says as he straightens.
Sebastian’s lips quirk. “It wasn’t. But I told her I would have an easier time keeping an eye on Nora if I didn’t also have to worry about her safety.”
“That makes more sense.”
“But…” I burst out, looking between the two. “Sorry. I’m glad you’re here, but why are you? And how did you know to come?”
“Claude didn’t tell you?” Sebastian asks, but nods himself a moment later as if answering his own question. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t have wanted you to worry.”
“Tell mewhat?” He’s even worse than Claude. Are all vampires this unforthcoming?
“Claude has been visiting me quite frequently,” Sebastian says. “To train.”
“Ah,” Benjamin says. They share a knowing look.
It takes me a moment longer. To train for…? But then I look at the building ahead of us, and remember what’s to come, and I understand. He’s been training forthis. He knew this fight with Ambrose was coming, sooner or later. Over this last week he tried to paint again, to see if there was another way, but… he was prepared for this outcome.
I wish he had told me. I wish I had kissed him in the car. I am so full of wishes and hope and fear that my head is spinning and my knees feel weak.
Benjamin touches my shoulder, bringing me back to this moment.
“Lord Sebastian was a general in the last vampire war. He is a legend among our kind,” he tells me, while Sebastian looks away, clearly discomfited by the praise. “Claude could not have asked for better tutelage in dueling.”
“Does that mean he can win?” I ask. “Even against his sire?”
They exchange a look. Neither seems eager to answer me.
