Memories stirred from years ago, Emberline’s accusation hanging between us.
Yes, I had heard all about Giovanni’s thirst for power, but…
“My father did not hold any grudges against Enzo DiRavello.” I insisted firmly. “Whatever feud you’re talking about is gossip dreamed up by your uncle.”
“Dreamed up a well-known feud?” She didn’t give an inch, bandaged hand braced on the table between us, temper blazing in her eyes. “I’ve heard the story so often, I can recite it in my sleep. It must be nice to pretend you don’t remember our history. That you can wreck people’s lives, then speak so pridefully of honor and laws. My father was a good male; he wasmerciful.”
“Laws keep us all alive,” I snapped, my temper fraying. “You speak of mercy as if it’s a virtue in our world, when it’s a weakness that gets people killed.”
“I know exactly what gets people killed,” she hissed, and for the first time, her composure cracked. Grief flashed in her dark brown eyes, and sorrow bled across her delicate features, making her look… wounded.
Vulnerable.
Young.
“I found my father with his throat torn out in our own palazzo. His chest ripped wide open. His heart missing. Nosign of a struggle. No broken wards. Do you know what that means?”
“Please,” I drawled, knowing I was acting like a stone-cold bastard as I turned over this new information in my head. “Enlighten me.”
“It means whoever killed him had permission to enter,” she hissed. “It means they wielded enough authority to walk through our protections like they did not exist and had enough power to erase their trail. There is only one vampire in this Dynasty who wields that much power. Your father.”
I exhaled slowly. “Rocco Demente controls the underbelly of this city,” I pointed out. “Emilia DiSangue controls the magic. Severin holds the Draconi in the palm of his hand. Perhaps you should take a closer look at your uncle, given his untrammeled access.”
She was already shaking her head, unable to entertain—even for a second—that her uncle could be the true culprit.
The fact that she could recite the story of this supposed feud in her sleep made me certain Giovanni had put that story into her head in the first place.
I felt nothing but pity. Emberline was a convenient pawn, nothing more.
Yet for some ungodly reason, I also felt compelled to keep her alive.
“Rocco needs our trade routes for his smuggling operations. Emilia needs our financial connections to continue operating in the shadows. Severin follows orders; he doesn’t make them. And my uncle…” Her jaw clenched. “My uncle served my sire faithfully. He was like a father to my brother and me. He and I stood over Enzo’s corpse until the DiSangue priests arrived to perform final rites.”
Her eyes hardened. “Your father had mine killed. You will never convince me otherwise.”
“You’re making a convenient leap,” I argued, “basing everything on this supposed feud of theirs, when no feud ever existed.”
She paced away from me, long skirt whispering over the carpet, before whirling back.
“Then explain this.” She looked at me with all the regal poise of a queen. “Why was someone spying on us the night of his funeral? I tracked them from our island, straight to the Sala del Giuramento. If you can explain that away, I’m all ears.”
Wisely, I kept my mouth shut.
If Emberline had the slightest inkling she’d followed my father that night, all bets were off. I wouldn’t put it past her to get close enough to Marcello to finish what she’d obviously started.
But I was seeing her in a new light. She was smart. Determined. Too stubborn for her own good. There was more to this princess than met the eye, which created an enormous problem.
Because if I couldn’t convince her to drop this, she was going to die.
I would have to kill her.
“And if you’re wrong?” I asked quietly. “If you’re being used? If someone fed you half-truths to point you toward the wrong target?”
“Nobody fed me anything. I know what I saw, and I know what happened. My father deserves vengeance.”
“You mean your father deservesjustice,don’t you?” I challenged, harsher than I intended. “You saw blood and ruin. You did not see who wielded the blade.”
“No,” she whispered. “But I know who benefits. Whoalwaysbenefits. Your father sits on a throne built from other people’s bones. He takes what he wants—like stealing thetitle away from my uncle, ruining lives in the process. And he’ll ruin a thousand more to stay in power.”
