Narcise found that both disconcerting and optimistic.
“Belial,” Cezar said sharply. “Escort my sister to the dining area. I’d like her to entertain my guests this evening.”
“I’m not here to entertain your guests,” Narcise told him, evading Belial’s reach. “I’m here to stop Bonaparte from invading England.”
Lifting her nose, she breathed, trying to scent Giordan’s presence. Was he here or not? When he hadn’t come back to find them at Rubey’s, she’d figured out that he meant to beat them here.
They’d sent word by pigeon to Cezar to stop the invasion, for they would not have reached Paris within the three-day time line, promising that she was on her way back to him. So far, no news of invasion had come and she believed he’d kept his word.
Of course, he knew if the invasion went forward, she wouldn’t come back to him.
Narcise didn’t spare a look at Chas, though she felt him tensing next to her. On the back of her shoulder, the Mark was enflamed with fury—so much that she could hardly move her arm. Even breathing was difficult. But it had been that way for two days, and she had learned to accept it.
“Ah, my darling sister,” Cezar said, his voice carrying more of a lisp than usual, “the emperor will be here later this night. And if you provide enough entertainment, I am certain you can convince him to change his mind. Belial, take her.” Now he seemed breathless with excitement.
But Narcise wasn’t about to go quietly. For some reason, Cezar feared her, more than anything in the world, according to Sonia. The thought gave her confidence she’d never had before. She started toward her brother as Belial made a move to stop her. She flung his hand off her arm, her eyes glowing red and hot. “Don’t touch me or I’ll kill you.”
Chas had moved at the same time, producing the short but lethal stake he’d hidden in the sole of his boot.
“Cezar, you promised me if she returned….” Belial whined, stepping back. “She owes me.”
“I did indeed,” Cezar mused slowly. “Perhaps I could accommodate your request tonight.”
Narcise stepped away from Belial, her heart thumping hard, and started across the chamber. The made vampire didn’t worry her. It was the children in England she was concerned about. And where was Giordan? “I’ve returned to you, brother. You agreed to call off the invasion if I returned. Did you not miss me?”
Cezar’s eyes were pinned on her, and she saw both fear and admiration therein. His throat convulsed as he swallowed, his attention avid and palpable. She halted halfway across the chamber, unwilling to get close enough for him to grab her.
“I thought you wouldn’t return,” he said, his voice thready. “I thought I’d lost you forever.Narcise.”
“I’ve returned willingly,” she told him, watching him closely. “I trust that you’ll do as you promised.”
He nodded slowly. “Yes. Belial, take them to the dining room. Go with him,” he told Narcise, his eyes now intent. The craftiness there unsettled her…but she knew the risks.
She knew she wouldn’t leave here soon, but she would some day. She was armed with knowledge and intent, and she had friends outside of this subterranean hole who would come for her.
Thus, for now, despite the constant throbbing and burning of her Mark, reminding her that she was doing something selfless, she would be Cezar’s pet for just a little longer.
* * *
On her wayto the dining room—the room where she had fought countless battles in front of the dais—she scented Giordan. So hewashere. Or had been.
A little shiver ran over Narcise’s shoulders. What had Cezar done with him?
She hadn’t been able to dismiss Chas’s dire words. If he was correct, Giordan’s actions had been a sacrifice beyond comprehension. She knew what he’d suffered as a boy, in the dark alleys, at the hands of men…but all along, when the worst had happened and she’d witnessed the hedonistic scene in Cezar’s chambers, she’d suspected Giordan of hiding his true self, his real desires.
Not so very different from Chas, who was revolted by her vampirism…but yet craved it, wantedher.He was reduced to begging her for the very thing that disgusted him.
It had all made sense to her—or so it had seemed at the time, and confirmed over the years. Giordan had really wanted Cezar all along, but could never admit it.
But Chas seemed so certain…and if Giordan truly wanted Cezar, why had he left Paris?
Narcise’s insides had been a muddle of nausea and self-recrimination during the entire trip from London, but now she must put that out of her mind. She had to be cunning and strong to survive whatever punishment her brother would mete out to her for running away.
Chas had insisted on coming with her, to her great dismay and impotent fury…yet part of her was relieved to have someone with her. She meant to use her influence with her brother to keep Chas from being imprisoned.
Knowing that shehadinfluence was a nebulous thing…but it was probably the only reason she wasn’t engulfed in the flames of fury by Lucifer. The continued throbbing of the Mark was painful, but not unbearable.
Inside the dining room, Narcise found that nothing had changed since her escape…only four months ago.
