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“Leto, I know your soul and that you suffer with a profound sense of guilt over building Greaves’s army. But I also know that you wouldn’t have done it unless you felt it was necessary to complete your mission. So you have no reason to feel guilty. You were under orders, and like any good soldier, you did your duty.”
He held her close. She was well named. A woman could not have had more grace than the woman in his arms. Her words were a balm to his tortured soul. “I wish that I had known you better all those centuries.”
He felt her sigh. “I wasn’t exactly present in my life then. All I was really doing was avoiding the war.”
“Now you’re here.”
She drew back. “Now I’m here. And all I’m asking is that you forgive Casimir.”
He sighed heavily because the mere mention of that hedonist’s name brought shards of rage piercing his skull. “You’ll have to give me time, Grace. I won’t easily be able to forgive the man who took you away from me.”
“I know. But you must try. Please. And trust in what I’ve told you; that our fates are secured together with Casimir’s, that without him none of us will survive.”
“You’re asking me to forgive the past because of something that is going to happen in the future, something that required you to leave with Casimir all those months ago.”
“Yes, that is exactly what I’m asking.”
Leto knew she was right. That was the worst of it. He had been an ascended vampire for thirty-two hundred years and he knew how these emerging powers worked. Things were known, or not known. The future became very fluid. Faith had to be applied … and trust. Did he trust Grace, in this new obsidian power of hers, the absolute knowing that she experienced, even about Casimir?
The answer came to him in a strong yes. He trusted her and he believed in her, but that didn’t mean that she would be loyal to him or even succeed in remaining alive. Both realities drove a stake through his heart.
Yes, he knew the score. Very little was permanent in ascension, so just how was he to commit himself to the woman in his arms?
The hell if he knew. “I have to give a speech at the opening ceremonies about an hour from now. Let me fold you back to the cabin and you can shower and dress. After I’m gone, I’ll send two squads of Militia Warriors to guard you.” When he felt her stiffen, he added, “And in this, my dear Grace, you will accept my orders. If I must overcome my bitterness toward Casimir”—the name came out laced with a little sulfur—“then you must accept what protection I can offer you. Greaves will soon know that you’ve come back, if he doesn’t know already. I want you safe.”
He felt her take a breath then sigh like she was swallowing a brick. “Fine.”
“Yes. Fine. I’ll fold us now.”
“As you wish.”
Actually, what he wished was to take her back to bed.
But that would have to wait. Hopefully, not for long. This first of three nights of the warrior games would only last a couple of hours. Then, if they weren’t quarreling, he would make love to her again. And again.
Change is a mirror with many facets,
Always reflecting the soul’s long journey.
—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
Chapter 4
Greaves sat at the head of his Geneva Round Table, in the throne-like chair he had designed to place him above any who would come to serve the Coming Order. The table represented his dreams of one day ruling Second Earth. He put his finger to his lips and plucked. He could feel the frown between his brows.
Earlier, he had felt the cosmic ripple indicating that Grace Albion, the blue variety of obsidian flame, had returned to the lower dimensions.
On the heels of this unwelcome sensation came the reports from his Seers Fortresses that had shrunk his testicles. Essentially, a decisive battle was coming. Thorne’s army, supported by the obsidian flame triad, would be mobilizing soon. But that was all the reports had said—not when there would be a battle, or who the victor would be.
He sighed heavily, his gaze drifting over the table, back and forth. He had not gathered an assembly of High Administrators here in almost two years, from the time that Alison Wells had ascended to Second Earth and bonded with Warrior Kerrick. Her ascension had been the beginning of a long nightmare where his plans were concerned. Since her arrival, even more powerful women had risen to become bonded with several of the über-powerful Warriors of the Blood, ultimately changing the political landscape and forcing Greaves to shift his strategies again and again.
At present, the round table was empty and would remain so until the war was won. But for the first time in his long life, he knew that all his glorious dreams, including an administration that would meet here in Geneva and run the Coming Order, were in jeopardy.
He leaned an elbow on the well-padded arm of his chair and tugged once more at his lower lip.
Grace had finally returned from her little sojourn on Fourth, studying at his mother’s knee while romping in Casimir’s bed. His mother would have liked Grace’s spiritual inclinations, and Casimir would have made liberal use of her body since apparently he had been her breh.
Now she was back, having left both Beatrice and Casimir behind.
Though he prided himself on his generally positive attitude, he couldn’t help but feel morbid about her return. In point of fact, he had been dreading this moment for one simple reason: He would now have to deal with obsidian flame, because Grace would complete the triad.
The truth was that Greaves simply didn’t know what obsidian flame would be capable of once it launched. Two of the pieces were already in place. Fiona Gaines, now breh to Warrior Jean-Pierre, was the gold variety, and Marguerite Dresner, breh to Thorne, was the red variety. Add blue, as in Grace, and who knew what level of power the three women could achieve. It was even rumored that Thorne, himself, was obsidian flame, but Greaves didn’t know what his role was, or possibly could be. So the whole thing was just one giant assfuck waiting to happen.
Five months ago when Grace had taken off with Casimir, she had disappeared from the future streams, which had then forced Greaves into a holding pattern. Unable to learn when she was most likely to return, he knew that any attempt to take over Second Earth risked the possibility that she could show up, engage with obsidian flame, and destroy his plans.
However, he still had the advantage over Endelle in terms of the size of his army. At two million strong, thanks to Leto, he could subdue Endelle’s forces any day of the week. In addition, he had some sway with COPASS, since at least a third of the members were addicted to dying blood. It wasn’t a perfect situation, but he could frequently manipulate international politics to side with him.
