Gabriel stood with his feet braced apart, coat snapping in the wind, his posture carved into something unbreakable. Nico and Dante flanked me, along with four Dominico soldiers, and another driving the boat. We’d all come armed, not just with weapons, but with irrefutable truth—proof of Blackwood’s involvement and of Giovanni’s reach extending even further than his appetite for power.
I only hoped this would be enough to convince her.
The dock was empty when we arrived, but as we tied up, a row of silent priests emerged from the temple, dark robesbrushing over stone, throats marked by red, illuminated sigils, turning them into something sinister.
“Do you see Emilia?” I murmured to Nico, who only brushed his knuckles across mine in answer.
One priest stepped forward—taller than the rest, voice smooth and measured.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I jolted in surprise. Other than the priest who’d conducted my wedding ceremony, they never spoke. Indeed, his voice was scratchy from misuse.
Gabriel didn’t pause. “We are here to see your priestess. Vincenzo granted us an hour. Take us to her.”
Already, Gabriel’s demeanor was that of a male in full control, the ruler of a Dynasty and a male you did not want to cross. Pride burst in my chest, pride and respect, something I never thought I’d feel toward one of my enemies…but we were never really enemies, were we?
After the briefest hesitation, the priest stepped back and dipped his head. “This way, sire. Apologies. We must exercise caution in these tumultuous times.” He swept his arm out, and we walked ahead, the nape of my neck prickling in warning.
Something about this felt off. Emiliaalwaysmet us in person. Dread trickled into my bones, and I wondered if we had just walked into something we might not walk out of.
During the day,the high-ceilinged temple was as rich as any palace, black, gold-veined walls sparkling in the single shaft of sunlight spilling through the hole in the ceiling, thepriest leading us past those cabinets, still full of ghastly relics. I absently wondered if they were just for show, or if Emilia used them in her rituals, and if the blood on them was fresh or ancient.
I carefully stepped over the geometric patterns in the floor, every footstep echoing against the vaulted ceiling.
My instincts were going haywire, and mine weren’t the only ones. Dante’s eyes were filled with flames, casting a faint glow over his face. This place felt like a trap, ready to spring shut, and we were the helpless little mice marching to their doom.
This temple held eons of secrets, and the entire Order was dangerous and filled with dark magic none of us understood, but something felt off.
There was an emptiness usually filled by Emilia’s towering presence.
“Where is everyone?” I whispered.
Nico’s jaw flexed, his teeth grit tight. “This feels wrong. We should turn around and leave.”
“I’m taking you to Lady Emilia,” the priest said serenely, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe, his dark eyes unreadable. “She is just ahead.”
None of us was breathing when we stopped in the doorway, not believing what we were seeing.
Emilia lay on a raised platform, draped in white, not her signature red, loose, dark hair fanned around her like a halo. For one suspended second, I thought she was dead, then her chest moved, so slightly, I wondered if I’d imagined it.
“She is in stasis,” the priest explained. “A holy state where she drifts between this realm and the next.” He didn’t elaborate which realms, exactly.
I shivered, wondering if this was some common DiSangue ritual… or something more sinister.
The Order was so notoriously secretive, their rituals so ancient, there was no way of knowing, but from Nico’s reaction… this wasn’t normal.
“And she won’t be waking up any time soon,” a voice said behind us. We turned to see Vincenzo striding toward us, dark eyes narrowed, gold sigil gleaming at his throat. Unlike the priests, his was jewelry, not ink, and I had to wonder why.
Was he too vain to be permanently marked?
Or not quite dedicated enough to have earned the right?
Paulo trailed behind him, fidgety, less certain. The surrounding priests dipped their heads as the brothers passed by in a show of subservient respect. Nico’s eyes met mine, as though we both had the same thought. This is not good.
As far as I was concerned, I’d tolerated these two sniveling little shits ever since we were children, but there was a dangerous air to them now, like boys who’d been gifted a terrible power.
And neither of them was steady enough to wield anything more than a few sharp words at a social event. I should know, I’d been on the receiving end more than once.
