Page 86

“And this is Rory,” Cress says brightly.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you, Alyvia,” Rory gushes, her excitement palpable as she stumbles forward into a low curtsy. “And you, Eliphas.”

Ash and a few of his friends chuckle from across the room. I have half a mind to project an illusion in their direction but halt as their amusement ends as quickly as it began when a low, dangerous growl echoes around us. Simultaneously, we all turn toward the sound emanating from the sleek, white tiger prowling where Risna once stood.

Eivor pets a black stripe of fur streaking across his sire. “I kindly suggest you refrain from laughing at one of our kindred.”

Ash hisses something under his breath, his hackles rising at the threat. Alyvia cuts him a severe glare, and he immediately falls back. If only he’d been in wolf form. It would’ve delighted me to see him with his tail between his legs. Rory grins, ducking her face.

You heard that, didn’t you? I ask her.

She presses her lips together as she looks up at me through her lashes. Not purposefully.

I don’t believe you for a second.

“You all are no longer needed,” Eliphas says tightly, the lines around his mouth drawing taut. “Everyone but Quill may leave.”

Rory’s eyes dart to me, then to Cress.

“Auntie,” Cress says mildly, “I would like to formally request Rory and I remain as witnesses.”

The werewolf supreme considers it with the titling of her head, the gentle patting of her hand against the plush furs wrapped around the child cradled in her arms. “I’ll allow it.”

“Aly,” Eliphas says hotly. “There is no need for them⁠—”

“Cress is my heiress,” Alyvia snaps, teeth clicking together in warning. Beneath her pretty face, she is a wild beast and we would all do well to remember that. “She should be present to witness this rare occurrence so that if, gods forbid, another creature decides they want to Challenge a supreme, she knows what to do.”

Eliphas opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again to say, “And his mate remains because…?”

Alyvia, regarding Rory shrewdly, merely says, “From the seashells in her hair and Nerissa’s messenger’s scent all over her, I take it she’s earned one supreme’s approval and the right to be present while we offer our backing for the next.”

Defeated, Eliphas merely withdraws his dagger from beneath his wide sleeves. It’s spindly, nearly needle like with a simple wooden hilt, resembling more of a wand than a blade.

Alyvia hands Lowella over to Cress, who quietly introduces her daughter to Rory. My mate’s bright smile is enough to melt silver as she beams at the child and at her friend.

Hands finally free, Alyvia reaches for her dagger⁠—

The wooden doors burst open behind us in a thunderous boom.

I turn to see Eivor rush into the room, axe already drawn.

“Hunters in the Wyldelands. They’ve breached the perimeter,” he warns. “They’ll arrive here in less than ten minutes. We have to go. Now.”

Risna barges in behind him, still in tiger form, as if to emphasize the urgency. Her eyes meet mine, then Rory’s, and all my mate’s earlier enjoyment is sapped from her and replaced with agony.

“Vivian Alarie leads them,” says Ash, panting behind my kindred in the doorway. “We must abandon the village before they cross through the wards.”

Cress’s grip tightens around her child as Rory, face crumpling, asks, “Won’t the wards stop them?”

Eivor shakes his head. “They brought witches. Carver is leading them on a chase through the Mocking Woods. Maybe he and Avaline can buy us some time, but we need to move. Now.”

“Let’s get on with it, then.” Eliphas pricks one thin, brown finger and does the same to one of mine. Like with Nerissa, twin beads of blood surface, and he presses them together. His voice is deep as he declares, “As warlock supreme, you have my vow, Quill Godrickson. Blood to blood, I choose you to fill the role of vampire supreme.”

Incandescent light shines from my wrist as a twisted pommel burns itself on to my skin, twining around Nerissa’s pearl until pommel and jewel rest neatly in place. Alyvia doesn’t bother wasting time as the tension and fear of Vivian and her hunters closing in permeates the air around us. Alyvia withdraws her dagger in a flash of steel. A twin prick, an exchange of blood.

A third vow.

More burning, moonlight shining from within my skin. The hilt takes shape around the pommel, two crescent moons heralding the edges.