TheannualgatheringwhereDarcy met with the royal council happened at Fairy Winter Lodge.
The dignitaries walked into the large cabin bundled in large coats and hats that covered their pointed ears. This wasn’t Austen Heights, after all.
The lodge was warm and welcoming, with its high ceilings wrapped in timber beams and the scent of pine lingering in the air. A table with a coffee machine sat along one wall. Plush, overstuffed chairs were gathered near a massive stone fireplace, where a crackling fire sent flickering golden light dancing across the room. The hearth was piled up with logs, and the warmth suffused through the surroundings, keeping its guests comfortably heated. At the back, floor-to-ceilingwindows framed a breathtaking view of snow-capped mountains, the peaks glowing under the pale winter sun.
I handed the earplugs to Lydia and Darcy. “Make sure you put these on before I sing.”
They both nodded. I brushed a strand of hair from Lydia’s face. We’d spent the past few nights at Cupid’s Confections to stay safe, making a makeshift bed of blankets and pillows on her floor. I was simply grateful to have her by my side—and today, her support gave me strength.
Once everyone was settled with their coffee mugs in hand, Darcy rose and stood in front of those gathered. “Thank you for coming. Before we get started, I’m going to turn the time over to a man who’s like a brother to me. A man who—well, we’ve had our differences, but I’m more than glad to say we have reconciled. Famous Grey Doors guitarist, George Wickham.”
The council watched in confusion. No doubt wondering what in the world the prince was doing bringing a lowborn fae into their midst and speaking at their policy meeting.
I put on my best swagger and stalked out in front of them. “Thank you, Prince Valemont.” I gave a slight bow. “I’m George Wickham, and usually you see me in the Grey Doors asthe bass guitarist. I’m sure my voice isn’t as strong as our lead singer, but I plan to start off the gathering with a song.”
I sang, letting my vampire melody unfurl like smoke—velvet and ancient—spilling over the crowd in waves. The air stilled around us, thick with enchantment. I felt them slipping beneath its pull, their breath catching as my voice wrapped about their senses like silk, irresistible and inescapable.
When I had them under my influence, I stopped singing and spoke. “First off, I want you to put out of your minds any overly personal information you hear about me tonight. You’ll forget anything that might make you think ill of me or wish to tell others about me.”
My words flowed over them, and I sensed the compulsion take like a lock clicking into place. There, I should be safe.
“Next, I wanted to speak about Prince Valemont. As you know, we had our fights and disagreements, and I may have misjudged him as he misjudged me. But I see now how honorable he is and how noble. He’s made lives better for thousands of everyday fae and Marked. And those on his council who resent him for that should feel ashamed of themselves.”
A couple of heads bowed, and I paused in surprise. I hadn’t meant to compel them to feel ashamed, but perhaps it was for the best. I cleared my throat and continued. “Unfortunately,there’s one council member in particular who has taken it too far. Tom Selving, please stand up?”
Astonishment and fear flashed across his face, but he had no choice but to do as he was told. The rest of the council had varying expressions of interest or curiosity on their faces. While they may forget that they were compelled in this instance and the fact that I was a vampire, they wouldn’t forget what they learned in this room about Tom Selving.
“That’s right. You were the one paying off Oscar to make it appear as if a vampire killed that fae man, Albert Jones.”
It hadn’t been Pam Smoot and her brother, or even John Rittle. Tom Selving, the councilman who’d pretended to support Darcy, was the one who’d set me up. A couple of members of the council let out sharp gasps, and others whispered to each other.
Tom Selving gazed around, a little panicked. He ran a hand over his short beard and cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I held up the device they’d wanted to use on Lydia to take her blood. “Oscar used this to make it appear as if Albert Jones was killed by a vampire. This instrument, you see, has quite a curious symbol on it. It looks as if it was scratched out, but Ihad seen that heart and cross combo before. You’re a medical innovator, are you not?”
Fear flooded his eyes, and I saw the fight-or-flight instinct sink in. In Tom’s case, he’d fight to the end to preserve his reputation. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean—”
“I looked up your name and found out that you had an old business before this one, with a similar logo. And the prince here put it out of business when he pushed for regulations. Regulations that gave many fae families a safer working environment.”
Tom tried to laugh it off and gazed around at his fellow council members imploringly. “Look, that was in the past. My firm is doing great now.”
“Yes it is, but you were worried, weren’t you?” I pressed. “Because there were other regulations that this council has discussed, regulations that might put you out of business. And if the prince backed them, then you’d be bankrupted again. So you pretended to schmooze the prince and be on his side when really you were working to discredit him and take him down.”
“No, I didn’t, I—”
I hummed a small tune. “Tell the truth.”
Tom glared at me as the compulsion washed over him. “Since when did you learn how to do that? Most of your kindcan’t sing like that,” he snarled, but then the words poured from his mouth. “Yes. He put me out of business and could do so again, so I paid off Oscar to kill a fae and make it look as if a vampire did it. If I could get the prince removed as heir and someone else put in, someone younger, more malleable, then maybe I and my business might survive.”
Georgiana was younger, but more malleable? It was clear this council member didn’t know the prince’s sister at all.
The room filled with a sharp silence. The surprise on the royal council members’ faces melted into disgust.
“You are a murderer, Tom Selving,” said John Rittle, “and you should face consequences.”
Darcy stepped up next to me. “I think we can agree that we have grounds for arrest.” He nodded to the security guards at the back of the room. “Can you please watch Mr. Selving until the police have arrived?”
“No! You all don’t know, but he’s…” Tom Selving’s expression screwed up. “He’s…” But then his face drained of blood as he realized he couldn’t say it.
