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Mihal’s death was swift. Poetic, even, knowing the stake Quill plunged into his chest had been carved from Catalin’s coffin. Vivvy’s death, however, was not. I drove Eivor’s dagger straight into her without hesitation.

When silver pricked the heart I didn’t know she had, Death was waiting for her. Laughing and joyful.

Your life debt has been paid, Rory Alarie. Enjoy your freedom.

Free of Death, free of Viv’s vengeance.

Tears leak down my cheeks, blood speckling Vivvy’s leather vest, her white shirt. Her body is heavy in my arms. Cold seeps through my leathers from the stone ground. It worms its way into my bones.

She’s gone. Actually gone.

“It’s okay,” murmurs Cress. She settles in beside me, rubbing circles on my back. “You had no choice.”

But I did have a choice.

I chose me.

I chose Quill.

I chose life.

I don’t know how to tell her these tears are not tears of guilt. They’re relief in its purest form.

Through my hazy vision, Quill kneels before me. Healing cuts pepper his skin, blood drying to his cheeks. Still, he’s beautiful and whole and alive. Unlike Vivian. She’s so still in my arms.

“Rory.” He says my name like a prayer, a vow, a promise. “Let’s get you home.”

Home.

I hear myself say, “I can’t just leave her here.”

“We’ll give her an honorable burial,” says Eivor, lacing his fingers through Risna’s.

Carver nods. “But only if that’s what Rory wants.”

“I-It is,” I say hesitantly. “But what about Mihal?”

“His body will be added to the catacombs with the other supremes,” says Risna. “It’s tradition.”

Nerissa smiles down at Quill. “Before you go, you must be sworn in.”

My mate rolls up his shirtsleeve and holds out his arm. “Let’s get it over with, then.”

With haste, each of the supremes removes their daggers and comes forward. They drag their blades across his skin with extreme precision. To my surprise, the blades do not draw a single drop of blood. Instead, the pale swath of skin each of the daggers touched glows bright as a six-pointed star fizzles to the surface.

As Riven finishes his delicate line, he murmurs, “Godrick left you some very large boots to fill.”

Quill merely says, “As long as they aren’t those horrendous boots you favor, I think I’ll be fine.”

Riven laughs—actually laughs—as he falls back in line beside Nerissa.

Quill withdraws his own blade, meets the gaze of every creature on the council, and declares, “I vow, from here unto death, to honor all creatures as vampire supreme.”

Then he adds the final swipe.

The light diminishes, and in its wake is an ink-dark seven-pointed star.

The mark of a supreme.