“Keep watching Valerian,” I tell Morgan. “If he’s truly positioning himself, he’ll make a move soon. Better we see it coming.”
Lake appears at my shoulder, his usually calm demeanor tense. “The coronation ceremony begins in thirty minutes. Lucien’s arrogance in holding such an event may work in our favor.”
I nod, watching Isabella slip through a side door. Her elegant attire masks the deadly intent I glimpse in her eyes. She’s played her part well, maintaining her cover until this moment. She’ll be attending the coronation as one of Lucien’s supporters until the last moment. It’s a dangerous game that she’s playing; if he’s onto her, she’s as good as dead.
The warehouse fills with restless energy as our forces prepare to move. Lake catches my eye and gives a curt nod – the witches are ready. So are we.
“It’s time,” I announce, feeling the weight of centuries of vampire tradition about to shatter.
I lead our forces through shadow-travel, materializing in the hidden alcoves surrounding the Assembly’s grand hall. I scan the area, taking in the sea of pale faces and elegant attire. It’s packed to capacity, filled with every high-ranking vampire within our realm.
The air thrums with primal power as clan leaders and their trusted advisors gather, their whispered conversations creating an undercurrent of tension. I recognize faces I haven’t seen in decades, some in centuries – a testament to how serious this situation has become.
I watch from my hidden vantage point as the coronation ceremony unfolds below, a grotesque display of Lucien’s ego that makes my skin crawl.
He stands before Arabella’s antique throne – a seat that should never have been his – draped in ceremonial robes that gleam blood-red in the candlelight. My fists clench at my sides as I watch Lucien’s arrogant display. He’s positioned himself perfectly, ensuring every vampire in attendance can witness his triumphant moment.
The Grand Elder’s ornate chair, carved from black obsidian and inlaid with precious gems collected over millennia, seems to reject his very presence. As Darick’s second-in-command, I stood guard in this chamber countless times, watching Arabella dispense justice with wisdom and grace. Now, this usurper dares to claim her legacy as his own through treachery and manipulation; the sight of him there fills me with a cold rage.
Control yourself, dammit!
We can’t afford for my emotions to give us away, not when we’re so close to ending his reign before it truly begins.
I force my attention back to the team around me. Darick signals from his position near the western gallery, where he’ll coordinate our movements. Lake and Morgan flank the eastern approach, their magic already gathering like storm clouds.
Valerian de Lioncourt steps forward, his tall frame moving with the fluid grace of a predator. Not to mention a deceitful motherfucker. I can only imagine how long it took him to worm his way into Arabella’s heart, twisted it to do his bidding. To do Lucien’s bidding. And then he betrayed her.
The crown of the Blood Assembly gleams in his pale hands, its dark metal seeming to absorb the candlelight rather than reflect it.
My jaw clenches – for as long as I can remember, our leaders have been elected. We may be a bloodthirsty lot, but our system is civilized. Elegant, even. This vulgar display takes us back to the Dark Ages.
Marlowe has sunk to one knee, his head bowed as de Lioncourt lowers the crown. And I know that this is the moment. Now, while Lucien is entirely engrossed in his own little moment of triumph.
It won’t last for long.
“Now!” I command through our secure channel.
I watch in awe as Marina and Thaddeus combine their energies, their hands raised in perfect synchronization. The air almost sizzles, making my skin tingle and the hair on the back of my neck stand up. They unleash a devastating wave of magic that ripples through the air like a tsunami, slamming into the hall’s protective wards with incredible force.
The invisible barriers splinter and shatter like glass, fragments of mystical energy dissolving into nothingness. Even as a vampire who’s seen centuries of combat, I have to admit –watching these witches work together is both terrifying and magnificent.
The effect is immediate and catastrophic. The assembled vampire elders erupt into action; some in confusion, some in outrage, others already preparing to do battle.
And among them are our allies.
As confusion reigns, Isabella Montague suddenly turns on one of the guards standing closest to the crowning ceremony, killing him in one bold sweep. Her movements are lightning-fast, even by vampire standards. Before the others can react, she’s slashed clean through the windpipe of another, a pure silver blade gleaming in the ceremonial light. I don’t take the time to watch any longer. Too much is happening.
I’m astonished as I see Alaric bound to his feet and rip open the chest of the elder who’d been sitting beside him. Within moments, a swarm of heavily armed fighters flood from the outskirts of the assembly room. Armed with enhanced weapons blazing with modified UV light, I know at once that these are Alaric’s men. The air is suddenly filled with the stench of burning flesh and ash as vampires turn to dust.
Elias emerges from behind a pillar, his presence drawing several key council members to our side. The hall erupts in combat – vampire speed meeting witch magic in explosive bursts of power. Marina’s healing potion pulses through the chamber, strengthening our allies while weakening his dark forces.
I launch myself toward the dais, my enhanced abilities letting me cut through what’s left of Lucien’s guards. Selene provides cover, deflecting attacks that would have caught me from behind.
Lucien’s expression shifts from shock to rage as his carefully orchestrated ceremony dissolves into warfare. I don’t know why he was surprised; he must have known something like this wason the cards. Perhaps he was so caught up in his power trip that he didn’t consider the extent of what we were capable of.
“The Assembly has fallen,” he snarls, throwing aside his ceremonial robes.
“What did you expect, you bastard?” I growl. “You don’t belong here. You’ve stolen this throne.”
