As the vampires began to rise from their seats, conversations already breaking out among them, Nadi felt a presence at her side. Mael had descended from the dais and now stood close enough that she could feel unnatural heat radiating from his massive frame. He must have fed very recently.
“Be careful, Monica,” he said, his voice pitched low so only she and Raziel could hear. “My brother’s methods tend to be messy, as you’ve seen. And Braen Rosov is not to be underestimated.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Nadi replied carefully, “but I trust my husband’s judgment.”
Mael’s golden eyes studied her face. “Do you? I wonder.” He turned to Raziel. “Don’t let your personal feelings interfere with this task, brother. We all remember what happened the last time you were assigned to deal with Braen.”
Raziel’s expression hardened. “Ancient history, Mael. I’ve learned from my mistakes.”
“I sincerely hope so.” Mael nodded to Nadi, then moved away to join a group of council members who were clearly waiting to speak with him.
As they exited the chamber, Nadi could feel Raziel’s tension radiating from him like crackling electricity in the air. His hand on her back guided her through the corridors of Volencia’s estate and back to the waiting car, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.
Only when they were safely inside the vehicle, with Ivan at the wheel and the privacy screen raised, did Raziel finally speak. “Well.” His voice tight with controlled fury. “That went about as well as expected.”
“They’re setting you up to fail.” Nadi was watching the streets go by.
Raziel laughed, the sound thin and sarcastic. “Of course they are. The question is whether they want me dead, or merely humiliated.”
“From what I saw in there, I’m betting on the former. Or both.” She paused. “What was Mael insinuating when we left?”
He turned to look at her, his red eyes reflecting the light of the streetlamps in the dimness of the car. “Braen Rosov and I have…history. My mother knows that sending me to kill him is either a suicide mission or a test of my loyalty.”
The raw honesty in his voice surprised her. “What kind of history?”
Raziel looked away, staring out at the passing cityscape. “The complicated kind.”
She lowered her voice. The glass was up between them and Ivan, but she didn’t trust that his bodyguard couldn’t hear them. “If we’re going to have any chance of succeeding—and surviving—I need to know what I’m walking into.”
For a long moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, so quietly she had to strain to hear him, he finally spoke. “He was once…the only person in this gods-forsaken city who showed me something resembling kindness.”
The admission hung between them, heavy with implications. Nadi studied his profile, the sharp lines of his face cast in shadow.
“And now they want you to kill him.”
Raziel nodded, his expression hard. “Welcome to the Nostrom family, darling. Where loyalty is always rewarded with torture and death.”
The bitterness in his voice was palpable. For a moment—just a moment—Nadi felt a flicker of something dangerously close to sympathy.
She tamped it down viciously.
“We should focus on the mission.” Desperately, she steered the conversation away from emotional territory. “Tell me everything you know about Braen Rosov.”
Raziel’s lips curved in a humorless smile. “Oh, I could tell you many things about Braen. But perhaps the most important is this—he’s even more dangerous than my family believes, and twice as clever.”
“Then, why hasn’t he made a move against the Nostroms before now?”
“Who says he hasn’t?” Raziel’s eyes met hers. “Braen plays a very long game. If he’s openly opposing this wedding, it’s because he wants something we can’t yet see.”
Nadi considered this, turning the problem over in her mind. “So we’re not just being sent to kill him. We’re being used as pieces in whatever game he’s playing with your family.”
“Precisely.” Raziel nodded, a spark of approval in his eyes. “And that, my sweet little murderer, is why we need to be even more careful than usual.”
The car pulled up to Raziel’s mansion, and Ivan came around to open the door. As they stepped out, Raziel leaned close, his lips brushing her ear.
“Trust no one,” he whispered. “Not my family, not my guards. Everyone is playing their own game. And we’re the pieces most likely to be sacrificed.”
With that cheerful thought, he guided her into the house, his hand at the small of her back once more. To anyone watching, they would appear as a united front—the dangerous son and his new vampire bride.
