Eudoxia stood at the top of the stairway.
Her eyes apparently healed enough for her to witness the scene of me taking out her favorite henchman.
I didn’t let go. Instead I glanced up at her and snarled, “You had your chance to keep me here fair and square. I came willingly. I’m certain you had an elaborate scheme to drink me dry, or siphon off my power, during your gala in a few weeks. But I’m here now. And once I leave, you’re going to be too busy to chase me down. You’ll have you hands full trying to keep the sorcerers from blowing your Coterie to pieces.”
“The sorcerers are fools,” she snarled, gliding down the grand stairway like she wasn’t using her feet. “They believe you have the power to rule the race of supernaturals. But I know better. You are not here to rule, as the other Sects may believe. You are here to cause a war between us.” When my features flashed my surprise, she continued. “Yes, that’s right, Little Wolf Girl, it’s because of you that we will fight, and not because you will rule us, but because you are the determinate. When one like you surfaces, magic changes and morphs, cross-couplings occur, Sects that would never speak will unite as one. Our world is changing again, as it has once a millennia since time began. And there will be an outcome, but it will only emerge after you rain chaos down upon our heads as you bumble through this life.” Her fangs flicked down as she hissed. “But you see, I am smarter than the rest. Because I will pick no side!” She finished with a grim smile, obviously satisfied with her tirade.
It grated that she knew so much about me, and even more so because I was still very much in the dark about everything. The Prophecy of the True Lycan had surfaced right before I’d gone to find Rourke. My father was only five hundred years old and our history had been tampered with, our sacred book burned, whole entries unaccounted for. It was clear the vampires knew much more and likely had since I’d been born, along with many of the other Sects. It put me, and the wolves, at a huge disadvantage.
Eudoxia had stopped a few steps above, gloating over me as I growled my displeasure.
We stood on uneven ground, her magic swirling around me, pushing and prodding at my skin. I made a split-second decision about how to move forward in this game, aided by my furious wolf. I had to make her choose a side. “The vampires don’t get to be Switzerland, Eudoxia,” I snarled. “You’re already involved. You jumped in willingly when you kidnapped me weeks ago, and now you hold my friends hostage. The damage is already done. The sorcerers will be back and they will bring their High Priests and their powerful allies, seeking retribution for your counterattack.” No need to mention their allies were, in fact, demons. “You will be forced to pick a side, and I suggest you pick the winning side. Mine.”
Valdov had used my conversation with the Queen to wiggle loose from my grip and I let him go. It would achieve nothing to kill him now. I stepped back. Rourke stood right behind me; his warmth calmed me as I slid back into my human form, his strength fortifying me.
Tyler stood to my left, ready to react, Danny slightly behind, his face set.
Their anger and need for retribution pounded in my veins. It made us strong.
“You cannot force me to choose anything, you fool, and I took no one hostage.” Eudoxia’s voice shook, her face twitching. She was dangerously close to losing it, but managed to keep it in check as her power thrummed inside my chest like an amp at a rock concert. “My servant tried to pretend nothing was amiss when she arrived. She didn’t even try to deny our bond had been broken when confronted or that she had murdered her blood-kin. And it will do you well to remember that she is mine, not yours. I care not about the human fledgling. He is of no use to me. But you will not take my tracker. She will pay for her indiscretions and the death of her brother dearly.” The Queen wore a deep red satin gown, her lipstick a matching blood red. Her hair was once again piled high on her head to give the effect of maturity, but none of it masked her youthful appearance.
“She killed her brother because he was Selene’s spy,” I grated. “Did she inform you of that? Did she tell you he delivered her to Selene’s door to be tortured? Eamon was never in your control. It was only an illusion. He couldn’t wait to get back to his true Master. The one he’d never left.”
Valdov shifted impatiently next to me.
“Impossible.” The Queen sniffed. “Eamon was a faithful servant. Naomi was the conniving one. It was she who beheaded Selene all those years ago, snatching the sacred cross and fleeing like a thief in the night. It was she who deserved the punishment from the goddess herself. She should’ve taken heed, as I told her before she left. She was not to cross the river into Selene’s territory. And now she will pay the price for ignoring her Queen’s order.”
“Eamon was deeply in love with Selene,” I countered. “He betrayed you and his sister willingly, and if he’d stayed alive, he would have done it again. Willingly. He was hers to wield.”
“You are mistaken once again, mongrel,” Valdov spat. “You know nothing of what you speak. All the Queen’s servants are faithful beyond reproach. If they are not, they are dispatched quickly and efficiently. We do not tolerate traitorous actions at court. The penalty for such a thing is death.”
I turned to examine Valdov, taking in his hands, which were clasped in front of him, and his practiced demeanor. Underneath he was seething. “Is that your job?” I asked him. “To weed out the threats? To dispatch those unwilling to follow their Master blindly?”
His chest puffed with pride. “Of course! I’ve kept this court functioning in its purest form for hundreds of years, and I will continue to do so until there is no blood left in my veins.”
It’d been clear to me from the start that he and his Queen had been together since the very beginning; both of their accents still held traces of their Russian roots. But one discrepancy kept Valdov apart from all others, which jumped to the forefront now as I eyed him. All vampires appeared to have been converted in their early twenties or thirties. They were usually exceptionally beautiful and vibrant, each chosen, as Valdov had said, with the utmost discretion.
Except for Valdov.
He appeared more like the former chancellor of a boarding school, curved nose, sharp features, late forties. He held an air of superiority, like the kind of teacher who would’ve enjoyed rapping a metal ruler over your knuckles just to see you squirm.