Page 89 of You’re So Vein

“Yes, a nasty business.” Callista tsks. “I have never witnessed one myself. Although others in charge of administering the Mora have. It’s rare these days – our laws see to that – but still an unfortunate reality.”

“The business of killing children?” I ask. The idea of this woman getting anywhere near Hannah makes me ill.

Callista wrinkles her face. “The human is speaking. Gideon, make it silent, or I will.”

“I wish to hear what our delectable human champion has to say,” Dante purrs. He’s wearing a mask made of peacock feathers and a matching peacock blue suit, because of course he is.

I’m not sure I like the way he says delectable, but since he isn’t actively threatening me, I press on. “Preventing Dhampir with contraception and the law is one thing. But once they are born… you’re talking about killing children. I don’t care how dangerous you think that child is; they deserve the right to live. For all the talk of consent, I expected better of vampires.”

“These are not children.” The Lady of Agony swirls her glass. “They are abominations. We do them a kindness. Such wretched creatures would not have lasted long on this earth.”

“But what if they aren’t abominations?” I continue. Arabella’s eyes bore into me – a warning, but I don’t heed it. All I can think about is Hannah and how these absurd laws force her into hiding. I have to fix it for her. “What do you really know about them? What if they could be raised as part of society—”

“You speak of things you do not know, Champion,” Irene says. “Our histories are filled with stories of the horrors wrought by Dhampir and by the sickness of the parents who try to keep them.”

“But historical records and mythologies are written with an agenda,” I say. “What if that agenda was to stop vampires and humans from being together? For decades now, we’ve had contraception that can protect against pregnancy, but this law still lives on. And if you’ve never seen these horrors for yourself, I can’t help but wonder, with all due respect, do you even know if Dhampir are as dangerous as you say?”

Gideon sucks in a breath. The Lady of Agony flashes me a smile that implies she’ll enjoy toasting from a goblet made of my skull. Kael growls at me like a bear, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword, and it’s only Alaric’s firm grip on his wrist that prevents him from drawing it.

Irene sips her drink, the gesture untroubled. I might’ve thought she hadn’t heard my challenge, if not for the ice touching the corners of her eyes.

“I’m aware of my kin’s history.”

“I’ve no doubt,” I say quickly, aware that I’m causing a scene but unsure how to stop myself. “But how much of that history has been obscured for political means? If Dhampir are always killed at birth, then what evidence is there of their apparently vicious, uncontrollable nature?”

“Blasphemy!” Kael yells. “This–this poor excuse for an entree makes light of the great sacrifices our kin have made to keep ourselves safe. If she ever encountered the violence and capriciousness of a Dhampir, she would not be leaping to their defence!”

“And yet, you expect us to defend your violence, Kael?” Dante smirks. “What do you know of Dhampir, anyway? You haven’t ever personally encountered one, have you? Certainly not as part of any secret society tasked with destroying them?”

Wait, secret society?

Is this what he was warning me about?

But I don’t have time to ask because Kael unsheathes his sword, shoves Alaric aside, and lunges at Dante. “I will not allow this slander—”

“Stop.” Irene holds up a hand.

Our circle – and several others nearby – falls eerily silent. Karl freezes mid-thrust, the tip of his sword an inch from Dante’s throat. Kael’s facial muscles strain as he tries to scream at Dante, but no sound comes out. I try to move or say something, but my limbs are frozen and only air escapes my lips.

The Empress of the Archives has a little magic of her own.

“That’s better.” Irene folds her hand across her breast. “I find silence so important. The champion raises a good point, and I have enjoyed her arguments. I shall consult my archives and Alaric’s library. If there are any discrepancies or biases in our records of Dhampir, I shall find them, and I shall declare her to have passed my challenge – to win a debate against me.”

What? This was her challenge? She could’ve told me.

I try to protest, but Irene twists her fingers, and the air in my throat constricts. “That is all the discourse we need on the matter. This is, after all, a party.”

Irene waves her hand again. Conversations resume. Kael and Dante step back from each other, clutching their throats.

“You squander your challenge, Irene. If you wish to waste your time, then that is your choice,” Kael mutters as he shoves through the group, his gaze fixed not on me, but on Augustin at the bar. “Nothing will change my mind about the Dhampir. I’ve stood against them in battle, and I will not suffer one again. If I found out that some foolish Upyr was keeping one, I wouldn’t hesitate to put it – and its keeper – out of their misery.”

“Let us talk of less unsavoury things,” Arabella murmurs. “Irene is right – this is a party.”

“And quite a party.” Irene sips her drink. “We enjoy elaborate events at court, but they usually aren’t this… debauched.”

“That’s what Sanctus is all about.” Gideon grins. “Wanton hedonism.”

“What my stupid fiancé means to say is that we know how to create an event to remember for both vampires and humans,” says Arabella. “That’s why Winnie and Alaric have decided to have their wedding ceremony in the Midnight Garden.”