The guards shoved Nadi to her knees in the center of the open space, directly before Ebiti’s elevated seat. A moment later, more guards dragged Raziel in behind her.
He looked worse than before—if that was even possible. The silver stake had been removed from his leg at some point, but the wound still gaped, blackened and weeping that corrupted blood she’d come to recognize as a sign of severe silver poisoning. His jaw was still clearly broken, bruised a terrible color. New wounds decorated his torso, visible through tears in what remained of his shirt.
They’d worked him over again in the short time since she’d last seen him.
He was forced to his knees beside her, chains rattling as the guards secured him to iron rings set into the floor. Whatever this chamber had previously been used for, it had clearly hosted prisoners before.
“Welcome, honored elders,” Ebiti’s scratchy voice cut through the murmur of conversation. “To this historic gathering.”
The assembled fae fell silent, turning their attention to the old woman.
“Tonight, we feast,” Ebiti continued, gesturing at the tables laden with food and drink. “Tonight, we decide the future of our people. And at last—” her pointed teeth gleamed in what might have been a smile “—we deal with the matter of these two criminals.”
A ripple of interest passed through the crowd. Nadi felt their eyes on her—curious, hostile, hungry. These were the leaders of what remained of the fae clans, and they had gathered to watch her die.
“But that business can wait until we’ve had our fill,” Ebiti waved a gnarled hand dismissively. “Let them kneel and contemplate their fate while we enjoy ourselves. Eat! Drink! This is a celebration, after all.”
Servants began moving between the tables, pouring wine and serving dishes that smelled far better than anything Nadi had eaten in weeks. The contrast was almost cruel—the abundance before them while she and Raziel knelt in chains, battered and broken.
Nadi’s knees ached against the cold stone floor. Beside her, Raziel was utterly still—conserving what little strength he had left, she assumed. His breathing was shallow, labored. Every few moments, a tremor would run through him that he couldn’t quite suppress.
The conversations around them grew louder as wine flowed and tongues loosened. Nadi listened, filing away every scrap of information she could gather. Old habits died hard, even when death itself was imminent.
“—heard Lilivra’s finally crawled out of whatever hole she’s been hiding in,” one of the Thessal elders was saying, his voice carrying clearly in the stone chamber. “They say she’s helping the remaining Nostrom brats consolidate their power.”
“The original vampire herself.” A Morvani woman shook her head, her pale features twisted in disgust. “After all these centuries. What could have drawn her out now?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The Thessal gestured vaguely toward Nadi and Raziel. “The Serpent’s little rebellion. His siblings needed all the help they could get to deal with the chaos he caused.”
“I heard she’s ruling the city through Mael and Lana now,” another voice chimed in. “Pulling their strings from behind her silk curtains.”
Nadi filed that information away, for what good it’d do her. Lilivra, active and involved. That was…troubling. The ancient vampire had been content to let her descendants fight among themselves for generations. If she was taking a direct hand now, something had changed. Something significant.
Kalo’s voice cut through the chatter, sharp and clear. “You’re all so focused on the vampires above that you’re missing the threat closer to home.”
Several heads turned in his direction. Ebiti’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing.
“The Rosovs,” Kalo continued, pacing along the edge of the tables. “They’re not just buying fae from the surface anymore. They’re infiltrating our clans. Turning us against each other. Playing us like pieces on a game board.”
“Rumors,” one of the Lesti dismissed with a wave. “Paranoid speculation.”
“Is it?” Kalo stopped, fixing the elder with his silver stare. “The Thessal and the Morvani have been at each other’s throats for the past year. The Vareshi clan was wiped out entirely—supposedly by wild creatures, but we all know that’s horseshit. And now half the remaining clans won’t even sit at the same table without armed guards between them.”
“Enough, Kalo.” Ebiti’s voice was sharp. “You speak of things you don’t understand.”
“Do I?” He turned to face her, and Nadi caught something in his expression—frustration, rage. “You’ve been dealing with the Rosovs for decades, Grandmother. How much of what’s happened to our people is because of that partnership?”
The chamber went very quiet.
Ebiti’s green eyes went cold. “You forget yourself, boy.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything.” But Kalo’s voice had lost some of its edge. He glanced around at the assembled elders, reading their expressions, and whatever he saw there made him step back. “My apologies, Grandmother. The stress of recent events has made me…hasty.”
Ebiti scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. “We all know these rumors and speculations are true. I have been dealing with them, yes. The Rosovs are our allies. They’ve been our allies for generations. Whatever conflicts exist between the clans are our own doing—our own petty grievances and ancient feuds. Don’t blame our weakness on outsiders when the fault lies within.”
Nadi watched the exchange with growing unease. There was something there—some tension between Kalo and Ebiti that went beyond their current disagreement. And Kalo’s words about the Rosovs…they aligned uncomfortably well with things she’d observed herself.
But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Ebiti was rising from her chair, clapping her gnarled hands together to command attention.
