Vincent
Brightly colored banners decorated the balconies of Mater’s courtyard, flying the crests of the thirteen tribes. As promised, the sunborn’s scarlet banner was included among them, displaying a golden disk with lines radiating from its lower half. Theatenwas Ra’s own symbol, and one that I’d soon adopt as my own.
Our human staff gathered at the open gates, offering cold beverages and cool towels to our guests on their arrival so that they might refresh themselves before greeting us. Meanwhile the three of us—you, me, and Lucian—stood outside the arched entryway to the grand hall, each of us dressed in bloodborn colors. For you, a sleeveless purple tunic hugged your broad frame, on top of which was a leather breastplate branded with Medusa’s bust. Your belt held both your sword and dagger, and in your custom-made leather wrist cuffs, you’d nested your throwing knives and tranquilizing darts. Only your leather sandals weren’t lethal, unless you tried using one of the laces to strangle someone. You approached this ceremony as though you were heading into battle, and I was glad that I’d spoken to Lucian ahead of time about how to handle you, should you choose to disobey me. I had a feeling you might.
To my left, Lucian was dressed like a politician or a corporate CEO in a tailored gray suit with only touches of our family colors, like the purple silk handkerchief tucked inside his suit jacket and his gold cufflinks. He looked quite debonair with his golden hair slicked back and his face freshly shaven.
And in the middle, I stood several inches shorter than both of you in a purple silk shirt with the bloodborn insignia embroidered over my heart and dress slacks. Not a warrior or a suave gentleman, I looked like I was headed to a bar mitzvah. I’d wanted to wear my sword at least, but Mater felt it might invite unnecessary conflict, and on that point, you’d agreed.
I glanced over to where Anika stood, close enough to act as guard but far enough away that she wouldn’t be mistaken as part of the procession. She shot me a helpful smile and patted the hilt of my sword where she’d stored it under her burgundy cloak.
Lucian elbowed my side gently, and I glanced up to see that the first of our guests had arrived. Hearthborn from the looks of it. They wore wreath crowns and had golden patterns of botanicals woven into their forest green clothing. Deceptively innocuous, you’d told me. Until you got on their bad side, and they razed your lands or sent a swarm of locusts to devour your crops as they’d once done to our own vineyard because of some dispute with our mother.
Beside me Lucian groaned. “Oh gods, not Eubuleus.”
On my other side, you snickered and said for my benefit, “Eubuleus was Lucian’s first paramour.”
“First blunder,” Lucian said snidely. “Hung like a mule with a similar disposition.”
The Nephilim named Eubuleus reached us first. Smiling broadly, he greeted Lucian with a kiss on the cheek and then another on the mouth, drawing away fast enough that Lucian’s teeth snapped air instead of flesh. He must have had some practice with that maneuver.
“It’s been too long, Lucian,” he said heartily. “I’d swear you get sulkier every time I see you. A tumble in the hay might improve your spirits.”
“Save the hay for your livestock,” Lucian said distastefully, “which I’m sure you’d have more luck in romancing.”
“Same old shrew,” Eubuleus said with an affable smile, then turned toward me. “And this must be your broody little brother. Hello, youngblood. Aren’t you a pretty thing?”
“Vincent,” I said without offering my hand or cheek as was the custom.
“Welcome to the family, baby boy. I’d be happy to introduce you to the earthly talents of the hearthborn.”
“Rough hands, clumsy cocks, tiny brains,” Lucian summarized.
“Move along, Eubuleus,” you said, muscles vibrating with tightly wound tension.
“I heard a rumor he’d been claimed.” Eubuleus turned towards you. “Seems selfish to not let him sample the pleasures the other tribes have to offer. I’d break him gently, like a colt.”
“I’m a biter.” I flashed my teeth and hissed at him with so much aggression that Eubuleus drew back, startled. Well, that was one advantage to our reputation.
“As I recall, he was a bleeder too,” Lucian added. “Such thick, syrupy veins. Farm stock. Would you like to bleed for us, Eubuleus?”
Eubuleus’s smug face turned to a scowl, and he thankfully moved along. After greeting our mother, he made his way over to where the wine was being poured in the shaded loggia. Coincidentally or not, that was also where Stefan stood idly, one knee bent with his loafer-clad foot against a fluted column. Lucian had dressed him in our colors, form-fitting white pants that showed off his perky ass and a silk shirt similar to my own, only his was open at the throat and unbuttoned nearly to his navel. He could have been a runway model with his cool disdain and easy sophistication. Unbeknownst to Lucian, Stefan had been shooting daggers at Eubuleus during our exchange, and when the hearthborn approached him, Stefan only had to place a hand on the hilt of his knife, secured by a belt around his trim waist, before Eubuleus continued onto the area reserved for his tribe.
“Even Stefan gets a blade,” I complained.
“I’m not sure arming him was a wise idea,” you said to Lucian.
“He’s always armed,” Lucian replied. “Only now it’s more obvious.”
“The hearthborn tend to avoid direct conflict,” you said, offering me some background on their tribal culture. “Which will make convincing them to revolt quite difficult.”
“But they’re passive-aggressive as all hell,” Lucian added. “The type to put itching powder in your underthings and convince you you’ve got pubic lice.”
I laughed out loud at that. “I forget sometimes that you two were ever young.”
“I’m still young,” Lucian argued. “Relatively speaking.”
And so, the procession continued, kissing cheeks and shaking hands, bowing when approached by a Grigori elder. You and Lucian prepped me for every encounter, giving me a crash course on who was related to whom, the particulars of their tribe, and our own family’s dealings with them in the past. I wished we’d distributed nametags.
