After passing through candlelit gardens filled with ancient olive trees, we were ushered through the temple’s main doors into a soaring hall, where I couldn’t stop my soft, involuntary gasp of awe.
Emilia DiSangue knew how to make an impression.
The high-ceilinged temple was built from Portoro marble, walls of solid black with gold veining rising around us, the metal carrying the candlelight like gilded blood. Walls were lined with glass-fronted cabinets stuffed with relics—bones bound in silver, ancient knives, chalices crusted with garnets.
Light came from a thousand candles arranged in geometric patterns along the floor, their flames guttering whenever the wind from the lagoon slipped through the doors.
And the guests…
Malice masked by expensive silk and velvet, the hum of power and gossip stalling the moment we walked through the doors to face the great families of the D’Immortali Dynasty, gathered under one roof.
“Ah. There’s the jewel of the evening.”
Emilia DiSangue drifted toward us like a shadow pulled free of the wall, holding out gloved hands. Tonight’s gown was the color of freshly spilled blood, low-necked and long-sleeved, the fabric so fine, you could see straight through it. Her hair was woven into a coronet of elaborate braids, threaded with tiny white charms that clicked softly when she moved.
A matching collar circled her throat, made from what looked like… real bones.
Rumor had it she was older than my father, my uncle, or even Marcello, but her face was smooth as polished marble, her eyes bright, her fangs as sharp as knives, framed by dark red lips.
She took my hands, kissing the air near each cheek. “Emberline, my dear. You look ravishing. A DiRavello jewel in the rough.” She spared a single, deprecating glance at my husband, her lips thinning.
“Lady Emilia.” I leaned in, trying not to shudder when I realized that yes, those were indeed finger bones around her neck. “Thank you for hosting us. Your island is beautiful.”
“I am honored.” She finally released me after too long a beat. “Tonight is for you… and your husband, of course. The power of the Dynasty shifts, and we must see where the stones land.”
Only then did she turn to Dante.
“Lord Dante.” Her smile cooled slightly. “You impressed the Council with your honesty and your courage. The prodigal son, your strength tempered by the sands of The Fossa, returned from the dead.” Those too-bright eyes burned. “The universe does so love surprises.”
Dante bowed, head inclined at a perfectly respectful angle, tension coiled tight in him. “Lady Emilia. Thank you for hosting my wife and me.”
I stiffened, wondering if I was the only one who noticed the hint of possessiveness in his voice when he called me wife.
“Hm.” Her gaze flicked to the ring on his hand, to the way my fingers still circled his arm. “We are all family now, according to fate.” Her eyes returned to me. “Emberline, darling, come with me. The others are desperate to offer their congratulations.Andtheir condolences, of course, for your father’s untimely death two weeks ago.”
“Of course.” I couldn’t quite hide my jolt of shock.Had it really only been two weeks?It felt like months since I’d hugged him for the last time.
As if he knew where my thoughts had gone, Dante’s fingers tightened over mine. “We’ll make our introductions together,” he insisted, his voice the barest rasp of sound.
“Oh, but that would defeat the purpose of tonight.” Emilia’s smile sharpened before she snapped her fingers, and a DiSangue priest materialized at Dante’s elbow with uncanny stillness.
“Please escort Lord Dominico to the salon,” Emilia commanded. “Signore Demente is eager to discuss yourexperiences in the fighting pits. Always thirsty for blood and gore, that one.”
Dante’s jaw flexed. “I’d prefer to stay with my wife.”
“Preference,”—Emilia’s tone was mild—“is for those not bound by duty. In this house, we serve the Dynasty, which is the D’Immortali’s first rule. Perhaps in your time away, you have forgotten our ways.” She tugged me away from him. “Emberline will be safe enough with me, and Rocco does not like to be kept waiting.”
“Give us a moment, my lady,” I hedged, as Dante pulled me back, like a bone between two hungry dogs. “We are…” I let heat stain my throat. “We haven’t spent any time apart, not since we were…” I let my voice drift off, color climbing into my cheeks.
Emilia’s dark eyes glinted with hunger. “Young love,” she purred. “Such a beautiful thing. Say your goodbyes, then, I’ll return in a moment.”
“This is a good thing,” I told him quickly. “Splitting up will allow us to cover the crowd faster. You handle Rocco. I will… deal with whatever bullshit she’s about to throw at me.”
“Rocco is an oaf who will make some bumbling attempt to gain my trust.” Dante stared down at me, a storm brewing in his expression. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone with that viper.”
“I can handle Emilia Di Sange and her ghastly bone necklace,” I promised, and his lips twitched. Around us, conversations had quieted, the weight of a hundred eyes on us. I rose on my toes and brushed my mouth over his cheek, tasting the slightest hint of salt beneath his smoke and leather scent.
“Try not to start a war before I get back,” I whispered.
