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Alaric might not have known what she would do to him, but knowing him as I do, it wouldn’t have changed things if he had. Even without his memories, the core of who he is remains intact.
Alaric strokes my head, smoothing my hair back, lulling me. “If your offer still stands to help me remember, then I would like to take you up on it.”
“Yes.” I sigh, my eyes fluttering shut. “I will tell you everything, as many times as it takes, until you remember, or until we have made more than enough new memories.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CLARA
Alaricand I traverse the back halls toward the meeting room, where we will convene with the remaining living court members. My nerves are on edge. I don’t know if I can do this. It is one thing to fight and run when I can act on my instincts. But this will take a type of calculating I am not used to, from every word I speak to every movement I make.
My hair is pulled back in a long, simple braid, with the night-forged silver crown pinned in place. The design is sharp and delicate, but in my mind, the weight of it presses down as if demanding I bow to its power.
Today, it is imperative that no cracks or weaknesses show. I will prove that I don’t need fangs for them to fear me. That I am not someone to be trifled with.
So rather than wearing an elegant gown or having my hair styled into curls and knots atop my head. Appearing pretty and regal will not send that message.
Instead, I wear a blood-red, long-tailed jacket with a high collar. Silver embroidered button loops, made to resemble daggers, run from my collarbone to my hips, where the tail flairs. More silver stitching borders the collar and sleeves.
Under that, are simple, unadorned black leggings with black leather, knee-high boots so the dagger strapped to my thigh glints with every step. And at my throat is the choker of thorn-covered vines Cassius gave to me.
We enter through a door, hidden by hanging tapestries shrouded in shadow along the back wall. Only the sconces at the front of the room where the courtiers will enter are lit.
At the head of the table are the two high-back chairs, identical to the thrones, only smaller in scale. The one on the outside is slightly smaller than Elizabeth’s chair—now mine. Behind them, the fireplace is lit, chasing the chill from the room. The crescent table curves around, with one cushioned chair for each remaining member.
It looks exactly as it did when I was dragged here for that farce of a trial. Now, it feels different. It feels terrifying in a whole other way. I tamp down that fear, shedding it like an old skin, and walk up to the head of the table and move to sit.
Alaric stops me with a hand on my elbow, tipping his head to the larger one. “Thatone is yours,” he says. Then, when I hesitate, he smiles reassuringly.
I lower onto the mock throne, wanting to get a sense for it. It’s cold and not particularly comfortable. I shift, fidgeting, as I adjust my position to find one that feels right.
Beside me, Alaric watches me quietly. After a while, the warmth of his hand alights atop mine. I drag my gaze up, meeting his. Those dark depths allow me to take a deep breath.
“You will do fine,” he says, his voice pitched in low, soothing tones. “I will be right next to you the entire time.”
I don’t think I can do this, is on the tip of my tongue, urging me to set them free. But I swallow them back down, refusing to say them aloud any longer.
I have already said them a hundred times over in private. Saying them one more time would be pointless. It’s too late now, anyway. The last of the living council, the vampires Elizabeth created, are already on their way.
As if reading my thoughts, Alaric stands and holds out a hand to help me up. “We should take our places.”
I slide my palm into his. The caress of his skin against mine quells the nerves rattling beneath the surface. It gives me the courage to stand with my spine straight and head held high. Courage to do what must be done. Not just for me or for him, but for everyone.
Though I still don’t want this any more than when Alaric first informed me of my new title, it doesn’t change the fact that I am in a unique position. And it would be inexcusable to squander the opportunity to help others who deserve so much better than what they’ve been given.
To run from this now would mean abandoning so many who need things to change. Abandoning everyone who has died because of the old laws. Abandoning my younger self, who wished more than anything that the world was less cruel.
This is the first step. Today is about ridding the court of anyone tempted to undermine me. The coronation that will come later is a formality because I inherited the crown the moment I ended Elizabeth’s life.
I set my jaw and nod. Alaric holds the tapestry back, allowing me to slip into the alcove of the hidden door. Our eyes lock, and something more significant than words passes between us.
“Wait for my signal,” he says, then lowers his hand, letting the tapestry fall back in place.
His footsteps echo in the empty room, stopping after a few paces. I peer out through a small gap between the fabric and the wall. He is halfway between our seats and where I wait.
Soon, the main doors open. My throat constricts, trapping air in my lungs as the first of the court enters. Lawrence walks in, taking his place next to mine, on the opposite side of where Alaric will sit. The procession continues until each seat is filled, save for the two at the head of the table.
A few members whisper among themselves as everyone settles in. Some wear neutral expressions, while others have smirks curling up the corners of their lips, hoping for amusement.
