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Two, however, sneer, not bothering to hide their disdain. It’s them we will have to observe carefully, quelling any discord before it can gain a foothold.
The doors close with a resounding thud that hasn’t even entirely died out when the higher ranking of the two scowling men rises, looking down his nose at Alaric. Blatant disrespect smattered over his face.
“Let me be clear. We did not come here today on your order, but to inform you that we will not bow to a lowly former consort who held the position for mere minutes.” Lips twisting into a thin line, he pauses and takes a long, slow look around the room.
It did not take long for him to voice his objections. I expected to get further in before we had to deal with hostilities. I can already tell he came here today with an agenda, and will no doubt make a bid to claim the throne for himself if we don’t stop him early.
“There has been a misunderstanding,” Alaric says before the man can continue. “I was not the one who called this council.”
Murmurs quickly morph into exclamations and questions and demands for clarity.
Alaric doesn’t wait for things to quiet down. His voice resonates over the din as he answers. “It was your queen.”
Gasps, frantic talking, and cries of outrage mix, creating a cacophony of voices. One rises above the rest.
“The queen is dead. If one of us had dared to kill Elizabeth, they would have stepped up immediately.” The objector opens his arms to the room as if the fact that no one has stood up to say just that somehow proves his point.
Now, Alaric holds up a hand for silence. My heartbeat kicks up, and I must force myself to calm down. “It was not a member of the court who claimed the crown. But it is not for us to question our Her Majesty’s reasons for waiting to announce herself.”
He holds an arm out, gesturing toward the tapestry where I hide. I take a fortifying breath, then step into the open. The room is silent as I stride from the shadows and stop beside Alaric. I lay my arm on his and let him escort me to my seat.
One by one, recognition settles over the room. I am careful to keep my features neutral as we settle at the head of the table.
“What are you playing at, Mr. Devereaux?”
“Whosoever kills the queen is the rightful heir.” Alaric tilts his head toward me. “Miss Valmont did exactly that.”
“Demon shit! If you think any of us will stand by and allow this—this farce,” he spits the word, “to continue uncontested, you are gravely mistaken. We will not allow you to use a worthless, claimed mortal to seize control of the position you held for mere minutes. The very idea is laughable.” His face has turned ruddy with indignation.
“You would do well to show her respect,” he warns. Then, in a mild tone, he adds, “I watched her kill Elizabeth, but I am not the only witness.”
On cue, the doors open again. Every eye in the room turns toward the new arrival.
The Voice holds her head high. Her stride is assured. Calm. Confident. Powerful. Everything royalty should be. Nothing like the specter that moved about the halls of Nightwich doing Elizabeth’s bidding. It makes me wonder who she really is.
She takes her usual place. No one speaks, whether out of habit or respect, I’m not sure.
“I was present when Elizabeth Fairfax was killed.” She angles her body and gestures toward me. “By this slayer’s hand.”
The second scowling man stands, mouth agape. “I—we urge you to reconsider.” He looks around, but no one else joins him, remaining silent as they consider their options. He lowers his head in forced deference. “The gentry will not take kindly to a lowly human as our queen.”
I narrow my gaze. At least he has the sense to temper his tone.
The Voice looks at him with placid patience, in the way one might a stubborn child, still too young to understand the unfairness of the world. “When our previous queen created that law, it never stated the vampire queen mustbea vampire—only that whoever took Elizabeth’s life would be her rightful successor. By rights, the throne and the crown belong to Miss Valmont.”
Elizabeth had set that law believing that it would never happen, that nothing like thatcouldhappen. It was arrogance, a dare to attempt a feat she deemed impossible.
“This is absurd! If she is a slayer, then she must die for her crimes!” Anger radiates off him in waves.
An unnatural stillness descends. All eyes are on me. Watching. Waiting to see how I will deal with this display of disrespect. If I will cower and bow to him, or if I will hold my own.
I rise from my seat, commanding the room’s attention. “What is your name?” I ask, as if we are all having a pleasant conversation. As if he is so beneath me that his fury is of no concern.
His eyes bulge, and though it galls him to do so, he answers, “Arthur Greene.”
“Ah,” I say and smile sweetly, not pointing out his blatant disrespect by not using my title. “Mr. Greene, I know how difficult it can be adjusting to unexpected change.” Then I drop all pleasantries and look each vampire in the eye. “But hear this—I am your queen now, and from this moment on, things will change. Elizabeth’s laws died with her. Humans will no longer live under the rule of vampires—punished and used with impunity. If anyone thinks to act against me or the new decrees set forth—” I pin Mr. Greene down with my stare, making sure he takes in every word. “—they will not live to do it a second time.”
Though he remains pinned under my glare, everyone else seems to speak at once, looking at each other with uncertainty and worry. I allow them a moment to process the information. This is only the beginning.
