The pressure in my ears, crushing my chest, receded.
When the world slid back into focus, Marcello gripped his son’s shoulder, his face filled with pride, and something tugged painfully at my heart. That was a feeling I would never know again. A father’s love for his child.
“Your oath, Gabriel,” he said quietly, “is accepted.”
I clenched my hand around the cloth binding, my cut already healing, barely a sting now as skin knit back together. The Basin now held the stain of my blood, my brother’s blood, and Gabriel’s blood. But not…
Where had my uncle disappeared to?
Why wasn’t he watching as I exacted our revenge? Disquiet turned to fear as I considered the possibility he’d abandoned me to my fate.
“For the Dominico family, the Compact is renewed,” Marcello declared quietly. “Our oaths are bound. Our fates are sealed. For another decade, the D’Immortali stand united under my rule. Let these next ten years be peaceful ones.”
Outside the door, a roar went up—not human, not civilized. A guttural, primal, ravenous howl from hundreds of throats. I could picture the scene. Fangs flashing in the light, eyes glowing faintly, the monster in each of us rising in anticipation of blood and debauchery.
“They know,” Marcello observed, with a satisfied smile. “They feel the magic binding us together, and now…”
He leaned forward, so close my fingers itched to reach for my blade, even though I knew it would be the last thing I ever did.
“Once the crowd heads into the ballroom, we will retire to my office and discuss the Right of Arbitration terms. Who will negotiate on your behalf,signorina?”
“I negotiate on my own behalf,” I snorted. “It’s the twenty-first century, after all.”
“Please.” Marcello loosed a long-suffering sigh, rubbing his temple. “Don’t remind me.”
14
EMBERLINE
Honestly, I had expected chains.
Four cold walls, maybe a metal pot to piss in.
Instead, Don Marcello’s office was less workspace than a dragon’s hoard disguised as a library, where plaster walls disappeared behind floor-to-ceiling shelves groaning with leather-bound volumes. Maps and star charts curled on every surface, vying for space with piles of ancient coins, knives with jeweled hilts, and a cracked astrolabe.
A massive desk of dark, intricately carved wood sat beneath thick, mullioned windows, its surface cluttered with open, wax-sealed letters, and an inkstone carved from translucent alabaster. Instead of cigars and brandy, the air smelled richly of cloves and beeswax, the spicy sweetness clinging to the heavy velvet curtains and polished paneling, softening the faint metallic tang of ink and parchment.
“Excuse the mess,” Marcello waved his hand at the chaos. “Letters of introduction from attendees, other business I did not have time to attend to,” he explained as he dropped into the creaking chair behind his desk.
“Set that over there while we wait.”
Wait for what?I wondered as two Draconi soldiers struggled in with the Basin, placing it to the right of the desk, the rim still wet with fresh blood. There was something oddly fascinating about the thing, empty now, except for the dampness darkening the stone.
I didn’t know much about magic, possessing none myself, but right now, a faint haze of power gilded my skin like gold, residue from Gabriel’s sworn oath.
Where had all that blood gone?
Did the Basin devour it, like a starving vampire, or did our blood… go somewhere else?
Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to ponder the mysteries of the universe.
I was worried about Luca. Whether or not he, like me, was sitting in a chair, worried about his fate. I hoped he was at the banquet, enjoying the debauchery, being pursued by a flock of rabid mafia princesses.
Gabriel stood behind my left shoulder. Not close enough to touch, but near enough to detect the cold burn of his disapproval. He’d changed since we left the smaller room—a firming of his wide shoulders, the chosen heir sliding fully into place over the male who’d bound up my hand.
The trusted son, polished to perfection.
I sat ramrod straight, hands folded in my lap, my future hanging in the balance, my eyes drifting over to that damned artifact, wondering how the damned thing worked.
