At once, the stillness fractures. A low ripple of sound moves across the dais, robes shifting, sharp intakes of breath, an incredulous murmur rising from the gathered vampires. Dorianleans forward in his chair, eyes flashing. Victoria stiffens, her hands curling into fists on her lap. Even the advisor’s mask of calm tightens by a fraction.
Alaric’s gaze remains locked on us, his face unreadable. The tension winds tighter, stretching the moment thin, daring us to breathe.
“That is a very risky accusation to make,” Alaric growls.
“It isn’t an accusation,” Esmerelda counters, stepping forward. “It is the truth. The threats came from your son’s mouth.”
Victoria’s voice slices through the chamber. “You dare accuse my brother? Maximillian is loyal. He has never sought the throne. He has always supported me as heir.” Her words ring with conviction, but I catch the tremor beneath them, the crack she quickly covers with growing anger. She leans forward, eyes blazing.
“I cannot believe you would come here and slander him.” Her voice rises, echoing off the marble and tapestries. “Maximillian once saved my life. When the sun caught me, when I was too weak to move, he carried me to safety. If he wanted power, if he truly hungered for the throne, he could have left me to burn.”
Murmurs ripple through the seats, some of disbelief, some of unease. Dorian’s jaw tightens, his gaze snapping between us and his sister. Augustus lowers his eyes, unreadable, while the advisor watches like a hawk, his expression giving nothing away.
I open my mouth to answer, to push back, but the words die in my throat as the air shifts.
We all hear it at the same time. A sound. Low. Distant. Wrong.
We have superior hearing to vampires, but they are clearly reacting to the way we are still, heads cocked, ready for danger.
Alaric leans forward, eyes narrowing, his voice a controlled rasp. “What is it you hear?”
I shake my head, throat dry. “I don’t know.” The truth tastes vile in my throat. Whatever it is, it’s getting closer.
“Do you smell that?” Leonard mutters.
Then it hits me. My eyes widen, but before I can speak or warn anyone, a deafening explosion tears through the chamber.
I’m thrown against the wall, my ears ringing, body reeling. The impact knocks the breath from my chest, and for a moment, all I hear is the high-pitched whine that says I have a concussion. Then the roar of stone giving way drowns it out, and sunlight pours in. The ceiling caves, showering us with debris.
Screams tear through the chamber as vampires scatter in panic, their skin blistering and peeling in the sudden blaze. The acrid stench of burning flesh fills the air. Excavators claw open the earth above, widening the gap in the ceiling, making sure there’s no refuge.
Leonard slams into the ground beside me, coughing hard, but he’s already pushing up to his feet, hackles raised, his body trembling with the instinct to shift. Minerva isn’t so lucky, she crashes into a bench and doesn’t rise immediately, dazed and bleeding from a gash along her temple. Esmerelda snarls, dragging her upright, shielding her body with their own, teeth bared and ready to attack anyone who gets too close.
As I get up to help Esmerelda, I discover Belvedere has landed farther down the chamber, buried beneath a collapsed tapestry rod. He swears under his breath, shoving the weight aside, his face set in grim focus. Even with blood running down his cheek, his mind is working, his eyes darting, assessing, gauging a way out.
Serafina, the vessel, is already moving. She’s quicker than the rest of us, rolling to her knees, bow in hand. Her first instinct is defense—an arrow at the ready, scanning the breach above as if expecting attackers to drop in through the giant chasm. Next to her, a vampire wakes in a daze. The glow catches her face,and she jerks away from it, cursing, throwing herself toward the deeper shadows of the chamber.
Minerva wakes, and we regroup fast, instinct pulling us together, protective growls rumble low in our throats. Belvedere pushes free of the rubble, staggering but steady, eyes jerking toward me like he’s waiting for direction. Serafina presses herself against the wall, her silhouette taut and ready.
All around us, vampires flee blindly, clawing at doors that won’t open, their blistered hands sizzling on metal handles as if scorched by holy fire. Rocks rain down in chunks, shaking the floor beneath our feet.
This is bad. Very, very bad.
Rage surges through me. When I get my hands on Maximillian, I’ll kill him. This was a trap.
Across the dais, Victoria is desperately trying to free Augustus from beneath a fallen stone. I look around to see what we can use to hoist the boulder but Esmerelda doesn’t waste a second. She reaches Victoria in two strides and cocks back her arm, landing a fist square on Victoria’s jaw. The vampire goes out like a snuffed candle.
I move beside Esmerelda, but one look tells me the truth—the boulder’s too heavy, even for both of us. Augustus meets my gaze, a grim, knowing calm settling over his features.
“Get her out,” he rasps.
The skin on his neck is already smoking. We don’t argue. Esmerelda hauls Victoria up, and I grab her free hand, dragging her toward the shadows as Augustus’s scream follows us—a sound cut short by sunlight.
Esmerelda’s face contorts in shock, but she quickly schools her features. “We have to move,” she says, hoisting Victoria over her shoulder in one swift move.
“Damn, I think I just got a chubby.”
I turn on Leonard and growl.
