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“You lie.” Lorenzo clenched his fist.
William turned to Raven, who was standing next to him. “In the jacket’s inner pocket on the left is a letter. Hand it to me.”
Raven did what she was told, rummaging in the jacket she was wearing and retrieving a folded piece of paper. William took the letter with the hand that was wrapped around Cara’s back as he cradled her.
“This message was sent to me by a priest of the Curia. He has known these humans since they were children. He threatens war if they are not delivered safely to him in Rome.”
Lorenzo signaled to one of the soldiers, and he took the letter from William’s hand, delivering it to his master.
Lorenzo scanned the letter. “He mentions one human, not two.”
“They are sisters.” William lifted Cara slightly. “This one just arrived to accompany the other back to Rome. But you know this already, since you sent Max to capture my pet.”
“Your pet is a security risk. Isn’t that correct, Stefan of Montréal?”
The French Canadian had been standing off to the side in the shadows. He moved forward now, bowing nervously before the throne.
“By the Prince—ah—I mean the former prince’s admission, his pet has psychiatric problems that caused him great concern.”
“That’s not true,” Raven whispered.
William shook his head at her. She gave him a wounded look and averted her eyes.
“I spoke with Stefan about the fragility of her mind,” William admitted. “But that is an ancillary issue. The Curia wants her and her sister. Immediately.”
“The letter is dated several days back.” Lorenzo tossed the paper to the ground. “Are you telling me you refused?”
“No. My servants were supposed to deliver them this very night. Unfortunately, you interfered.” William’s tone was stunningly indifferent.
Raven inhaled loudly, eyes wide. She examined William, trying to determine how much of his presentation was artifice and how much was truth. He’d promised he wouldn’t leave her. He’d promised they wouldn’t be separated.
Under her scrutiny, William stood statue still, his eyes fixed on the traitor.
“I suppose my ascension to the throne was dreadfully inconvenient for your pet.” Lorenzo sneered. “Max operated on my orders. I needed some way to ensure we had your attention.
“You made an agreement with the Curia but since you are no longer prince, that agreement is void,” Lorenzo continued. “I shall dispatch a messenger to the Vatican, inform them of the change in power, and reopen negotiations.”
“Do so at your peril and at the peril of the city.” William’s tone grew ominous. “The Curia wants the humans. They avoided Florence for centuries, knowing I was a worthy adversary, but they threatened me with war in order to force compliance. With what shall they threaten you?”
Lorenzo’s expression twisted. “I am the one who will be making threats!”
“Then your reign will be the shortest in Florentine history.” William spoke evenly. “Honor your ancestors and the house of Medici by protecting the city. Deliver the humans safely to the Curia and avoid a war.”
Raven placed her hand on William’s arm, cautioning him. She was terrified the traitor was going to agree with his words.
Lorenzo glanced between the couple. “This is the pet you killed three men for some months ago. You healed her with your blood and have been protecting her ever since. How do I know this is not a ploy to spare her life?”
“Are you not familiar with the fate of Prague? Who would choose a pet over annihilation?” William’s expression remained impassive.
Lorenzo’s dark eyes fixed on Raven. She withdrew her arm, unable to hide her distress.
“Perhaps the letter is a forgery,” Lorenzo observed.
“The priest who wrote to me visited her some time ago. His presence was confirmed by security.”
“He may be a member of the Curia, but he isn’t a high-ranking one. His attempt at persuading his superiors to invade us may fail.”
“Not even you are foolish enough to take that kind of risk,” William said.
“I am the Prince of Florence!” Lorenzo snapped. “You will address me with respect!”
William scoffed. “What respect should I have for a lieutenant who betrays his prince? For a petty thief who stole from me and sold my treasures to humans? You sold secrets to the Venetians and colluded with them to have me assassinated on Florentine soil. You let hunters into the city, allowing them to maim and kill, so you could gain the throne.”
William turned to make eye contact with the soldiers, one by one. “Do you wish to serve a prince who is so quick to sacrifice his citizens at every turn? Do you not know what happened to the principality of Prague? If the Curia marches on Florence, all of you will die.”
“Enough!” Lorenzo hammered his fist on the armrest. “You did not deserve to be prince of this great city. I am a prince by birth; you are merely a foreigner.”
William spat on the ground. “You were a bastard at birth in the sixteeth century and only a distant cousin to the reigning Medici. Your father barely acknowledged you, and then only because your mother’s family threatened him with violence.”
“Those are lies!”
“I’ve been Prince of Florence since the fourteenth century. I knew the true Medici and what they thought of you. You cannot whitewash your history to me.”
Lorenzo spoke over him. “Guards, take the humans away. I’ll decide what’s to be done with them later.”
“No!” Raven cried, clinging to William. Two large vampyres grabbed her by the arms.
“No,” she begged again, but the soldiers pulled her away.
Two more soldiers approached William cautiously, eyeing the woman in his arms.
“You’d condemn us all to death at the hands of the Curia because of your vanity?” William lifted his voice incredulously. “You are a coward.”
Lorenzo opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak the doors to the chamber crashed open.
A lone figure appeared in the doorway, his clothes spattered with blood.
Chapter Fifty-three
“Next time you send a detachment to kill me, double their numbers.” Niccolò swept into the chamber, his torn robes fluttering behind him.
Lorenzo stared in shock.
The former head of intelligence strode up the aisle, nodding stiffly at Aoibhe. “I see you survived execution. What a pity.”
“Go to hell,” she snarled.
Niccolò gazed around the council chamber. “It would appear I am already there.”
“Guards.” Lorenzo pointed at his rival. “Remove Machiavelli and kill him.”
“A moment, please.” Niccolò lifted his hands in surrender. “It appears I’m interrupting something important. Does anyone care to enlighten me before my execution?”
Aoibhe angled her head in the direction of Raven and her sister. “The Curia wants the human females. Lorenzo is refusing to give them up.”
“Ah,” said Niccolò. “Another tactical error on the part of the new prince. It isn’t his first and, sadly, it won’t be his last.”
“Guards!” Lorenzo barked.
“Just a moment.” Niccolò stood to Aoibhe’s left, facing the throne. He observed Raven and Cara, then shifted his attention to the new prince. “The black-haired one is sweet enough, but hardly worth a war. Why not give them to the Curia in exchange for a peace treaty?”
“If I’d wanted your opinion, old man, I wouldn’t have sent a hunting party after you.”
“Centuries of opportunities came and went and you learned nothing.” Niccolò sighed. “You’re the last of your family—the last of
the famed Medici. You’ve disgraced them with a sloppy coup, leaving the old prince still alive and courting disaster with the Curia.”
“What’s happening?” Raven whispered, lifting fearful eyes to William.
“When one’s enemies are at war with one another, it’s best to be silent,” he murmured. The edge of his mouth turned up slightly.
Raven bit at her lip, struggling to remain calm.
Niccolò moved to address the soldiers. “This one is not worthy of allegiance. He attempted to unseat his rival, while leaving him alive. Now he risks the ire of our most powerful enemy.”
A murmur rippled through the ranks.
“I said, enough!” Lorenzo shouted. “I am prince here, by birth and by power. Guards, seize Machiavelli and take off his head.”
At this Niccolò smiled. “You’re just like your ancestors—arrogant, small-minded, and ignorant. You wouldn’t recognize greatness if it ran you through with a sword.”
Lorenzo began to clap, exaggeratedly. “Pontificating even at the end. I’ve never met a man who loves the sound of his own voice more than you.”
“A voice you ignored.”
“You had every opportunity to seize the throne for yourself but were too cowardly to do so. What’s the old adage? Ah, yes. Fortune favors the brave. Today, I am favored and you are dead.”
Niccolò’s smile widened.
“Yes, fortune favors the brave. If you’d paid attention to the history of your family, you’d know that fortune abandoned them long ago. I witnessed the exile of your family in 1494. I saw them return to power only to lose it. I learned my lesson—never pin your political aspirations on a Medici.”
He made a low, slashing motion with his hand, and a long line of soldiers entered the chamber, marching down the aisle and assembling behind the chairs that were reserved for the Consilium members.
Lorenzo appeared confused. “Guards, seize him.”
One of the soldiers stepped out from behind the throne, sword raised. Lorenzo caught sight of the sword and moved to the side, but another soldier slashed at his head.
His corpse fell to the ground.
“Someone should have read The Art of War.” Niccolò stepped over the head with distaste, lifting his robes as he kicked the headless body.
