‘Stop,’ I say, when they reach halfway. I don’t really care what happens to me, but Michael is here, as well as Bertrand and Varin. ‘Check the chest.’
But before the guards can do so the two warriors tip it forward so that the hinged lid opens. A slurry of dark liquid pours out, along with a jumble of objects, hitting the ground with a wet splat.
‘Get out.’ Varin, his voice like death, starts forward, quick as a flash.
‘Varin, wait.’ He pauses, sword raised, at my command. I am so, so angry, dark rage rising as I walk down the steps, through the silent wondering crowd. ‘What the fuck is this?’ There’s a murmur at my expletive. I don’t care.
‘We bring a message,’ the warrior closest to me intones. ‘From the most high and brilliant Jang-mi. From the Scorpion to the Raven. She does not send greetings, nor does she offer wishes for a long and healthy reign. Instead, she wishes to remind you how easy it is.’
My skirts almost touch the spreading slurry of liquid and, now that I’m close, I can smell it. The smell of the charnel house. Of death. ‘Tell Jang-mi I do not accept her message,’ I say. ‘I’ve had enough of blood.’
I want to scream to the heavens at the insult. I want to burn the whole fucking thing down and start again. A small hand, severed at the wrist, lies in the pool of blood at my feet. Along with a whole jumble of body parts. Human. The message couldn’t be clearer.She wishes to remind you how easy it is.
‘Execute them,’ I say, turning away. ‘And send their heads back to Jang-mi.’ I don’t care what it means. I have to do something. To be humiliated like this, during my coronation week. It’s already a declaration of war.
There are screams, and light flares in the chamber. I turn.
The two Scorpion warriors are wearing bulky helmets, made of layered metal like their armour. Light, brilliant as sunshine, now leaks between the layers, smoke starting to rise. Every vampire in here is flattened against the walls, trying to avoid the dazzling streams of light. God and darkness.
The Scorpion warriors are burning themselves alive.
I stand there, ice in my heart, and watch them burn.
ChapterFifty-Four
DARK QUEEN
Michael is gone.
Another piece of me, lost. I can’t believe this is happening.
He had no choice, though. I gave him my name, but it wasn’t enough to keep him safe. The first attempt on his life came before we left Old London. An arrow, poison-tipped, shot between the guards as we left the building following the judgement. Luckily Bertrand managed to deflect it, so it clattered harmlessly to the ground.
The second was more serious. A bomb, placed under our car. Only found because Bertrand insisted on upping my security to ridiculous levels, inspecting every inch of my rooms, cars and belongings, each time I made a move. I understood, though. The fact I didn’t want Michael to leave my side meant I was in danger, too. I couldn’t guarantee he’d be safe on the estate, either, though I tried my best. He would have been a prisoner, and he is not someone to be caged.
He sent me the message, early.
Come to the Gatehouse.
I knew what it meant, was already sobbing as I crossed the dew-spangled lawns, tendrils of mist curling among the trees. But I had to do it. I had to let him go.
He, too, was crying as he opened the door, folding me in his arms. I clung to him, breathing in his heat, his smoky incense scent. He didn’t say a word, simply drew me into his bedroom and undressed me, tenderly, kissing me as he went, then removed his own clothes before making love to me with a wild desperation.
Afterwards, he cradled me in his arms. ‘Come with me,’ he murmured, dropping soft kisses on my brow, my cheeks, the brush of his lashes on my skin.
‘You know I can’t.’ Each word a knife, cutting me deeper. I knew where he was going, of course. The one place he could disappear to, but where he knew I could find him.
Back to the Greenwood. A one-way ticket; Cass won’t let him go a third time. Ira will keep an eye on things and let me know how he’s doing. If I need him to, he’ll take me there. A small thread of hope, in a howling darkness.,
So I tried to be brave, even as I stroked every part of him I could reach, breathed him in, memorising each line and contour of his skin, the warmth of his touch, telling myself that I could do this, that I could let him go. But when I heard the rumble of the van pulling up outside, I broke. ‘I can’t do this alone,’ I sobbed.
He took my hands, kissing the ring on my finger.
‘You can, my love,’ he said. ‘You have it in you to make all the changes you want to make. You are strong, and fierce, and the bravest person I know.’ He was crying, his tears mingling with mine. ‘I’ll always believe in you, not just because I love you. I believe you can make a better world. And that we’ll be able to share it, one day.’ He kissed me, salt on our lips. ‘What happened to your mother … fuck.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘I would give my own life to change that. To bring her back.’
‘No!’ I wrapped my arms around him. ‘You do not give your life for me. Ever.’
He stroked my face. A single tear, crystal-bright, rolled down his cheek. ‘I would, though. If it meant keeping you safe, I would give everything.’
