And for reasons I could not name, her faith in me felt like salvation.
Boston at dusk was a strange, glittering thing—neither day nor night, its streets buzzing with mortal life. The world smelled of exhaust and pastry. It unsettled me.
I moved quickly through the narrow streets, coat collar high, ignoring the curious glances of passersby. Every step carried a pull in my chest—a sharp, invisible hook. The bond.
Nadia was far from me. Too far.
My skin prickled. The air itself felt wrong without her near. I told myself this would be quick. A simple conversation.I will return to her soon.
The farther she was, the more I unraveled.
The Sovereign Court’s manor stood apart from the city, a remnant of another age. Black iron gates. Marble steps. Gaslight lanterns burning with steady indifference. The great double doors opened without a sound, though I had not been announced.
I followed the scent. Copper. Perfume. Blood.
The formal dining room awaited.
Hammond stood at the head of the table, fingertips pressed to the chest of a motionless man. His mouth was slightly parted in pleasure as he drained the poor creature’s life force. Ambrosiawas sprawled across the table itself, tulle skirt hiked indecently high, drinking directly from the man’s neck. Her mouth shone wet and red. Their puppets stood around the edges of the room awaiting scraps.
They looked up as I entered, unbothered and amused.
Do they not even pretend to be civilized? Do they feed from anyone who stumbles past their gates?
Then I saw the man’s face. Recognition struck.
No.
It was the mortal delivery boy—the one I’d taken from briefly after waking. The one I’d left alive. He had walked away fine. But fate, or cruelty, had delivered him here.
Guilt curdled in my stomach.I made him prey without permission. I am not like them. But I did not ask. I drank without consent. I still have so much to learn.
Hammond smiled lazily. “Welcome, welcome. Hungry? I’m sure Ambrosia would share.”
Ambrosia giggled through bloodstained teeth. “There’s plenty for all of us, darling.”
“Absolutely not. Have you no couth?”
She licked her lips. “We’re vampires, sweetheart. Such things are for humans and sad priests.”
I forced my hands to unclench. “Where is Cassian?”
Hammond shrugged, still feeding on the man’s energy. “Gone. For years now. Didn’t leave a note, if you can believe it.”
“Is he dead?”
Ambrosia tilted her head, mock pity softening her voice. “If he were dead, we’d feel it. We’d be… diminished.”
Her words landed like stone. I knew she was right.
The Sovereign Court’s power was a knot of lifelines bound centuries ago—one organism feeding upon itself. They pooled their strength, braided their existence together so tightly that to kill one was to wound them all. It made them resilient. Almostunkillable. Unless, of course, the blade came from one of their own.
But none of them would dare. To weaken one was to weaken all.
They had wanted me bound to them for centuries—for my power, for my strength. With me, their collective would be unbreakable. Eternal.
“I have no interest in your games,” I said. “Tell me how to break the bond between a vampire and the mortal who wakes them.”
Silence. Then smirks.
