“No, my lord.”
Cesare continued to stare at her. “Are you sure, Hallow? Did Lothaire mention that he would deal with Gareth, but not with me?”
“No, my lord. Prince Gareth never came up at all. King Lothaire knows that Gareth is in virtual exile.”
“So, Lothaire wants only to treat with a king? And then his packs will be mine? With them we can win the war.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Cesare paced, his compact form dwarfed by the large room, with his footsteps ringing in the expanse. Finally, he paused. “Very well, then I must announce with great sorrow the passing of King Dmitri.”
Hallow started. “My lord?”
“Yes, His Majesty has expired. It's all a terrible shock.”
“When was this?”
“Earlier today. Tomorrow. Last month. Really, what does it matter? I say the king is dead, and so he is. I will call a coven for the next full moon to name the new king. Then we can draw Paris into the Grand Coalition and get on with the war before damned summertime.”
“What about Prince Gareth?” Hallow asked.
“What about him?” Cesare asked sharply. “I'll send a message to his chamberlain in Edinburgh. Baudoin is the only person who ever knows where my brother is.”
Hallow said in a measured voice, “Are you sure you want him here in London?”
“He's the eldest son. Tradition demands he open the coven, and it becomes sticky for me to be crowned king without him here to agree.” The prince extended his claws and admired them. “What are you saying, Lady Hallow? What would you have me do with Prince Gareth?”
“Kill him, my lord. Now.”
Cesare laughed at her sudden ruthlessness. “Why should I? I'm not afraid of him. Are you?”
“Yes, I am. Kill him.”
“I'm alarmed by you, Hallow. You and Gareth were quite a pair once. Everyone expected you two to be the future king and queen.”
“That was long ago.”
Cesare nodded sarcastically. “Yes, apparently you're quite over him now.”
“I am your servant, Prince Cesare. And as your servant, I beg you to kill Gareth.”
The prince strolled to Hallow and took one of her slender alabaster hands. “You seem so frightened of him. He would never harm you. Not you, of all people.”
“I'm not afraid for myself.”
Cesare rubbed her hand slowly. “I'm touched by your concern. Or is it merely distress for your own future, since you're attached to me now?” Hallow began to protest, but he continued, “I must admit, I'm a bit annoyed. Do you think me so weak that my brother could take me whenever he chooses? He is isolated and despised; I will finish Gareth when it suits me. I want him to see me crowned king. He must witness it.” He began to crush her fingers in his grip. “And once he has seen me take my place as leader of the clan, only then will I kill him, with my own hands. Just as he deserves.”
Hallow said, “As you please, my lord. But I felt compelled to give you my honest opinion. Gareth is dangerous.”
“He may have been dangerous once, but no more. I have become the greatest leader since the Great Killing, and I'm not even king yet. All the clan lords, and several foreign kings, owe allegiance to me. Gareth lives alone in a castle surrounded by cats and humans. I almost feel badly for him.” Cesare kissed her abused hand and released it. “No. He's no threat to me.”
Hallow nodded acceptance. “Very well, my lord. Condolences on the passing of His Majesty, King Dmitri. He was a great king.”
“Yes, yes,” Cesare muttered.
“Will you require a funeral for His Majesty?” she asked.
“A funeral?” Cesare frowned in annoyance, but then he smiled. “I suppose so. Yes. We should make note of the passing of such a mighty sovereign, and the ascension of his successor. Even so, I want a swift interregnum. I must deliver new packs to Flay as soon as possible.”
“Do you truly believe she can push the humans back?” Hallow asked.
“If Flay says she can, then she can.”
The ambassador pursed her lips. “I have found her to be resistant, even insubordinate.”
Cesare turned away, uninterested in Hallow's complaints.
“I need your support, my lord,” she said more forcefully. “I am your liaison to the allies. She is merely war chief. Her years here with you in the palace seem to have convinced her she is your chosen. Is she?”
The prince turned back. “You are my right hand, Lady Hallow. You have helped forge the Grand Coalition. Flay is useful for now. She is an inveterate warrior, and we are at war. But I will make it clear to her that you are the master of the alliance. She is to bow to you in all things.”
“I am grateful.” Hallow nodded, satisfied. “If it's possible to make anything clear to Flay.”
Cesare shook his head with dismay. He didn't want to see strife between his chief lieutenants, political and military. He needed both of them. He required Flay more at the moment because there was no finer war chief, but he would need Hallow in the long term because she would make an extraordinary queen. Not only was she beautiful and brilliant…She had once been Gareth's.
“One final thing I want you aware of,” Cesare said to change subjects, “is the disposition of the Undead.”
Hallow regarded Cesare with disapproving eyes. Clearly she disdained his human troops. Just as clearly, to him, she didn't have the vision to grasp their revolutionary importance.
Only Cesare had the genius to play on the old mythology that vampires were undead humans risen from the grave. He had convinced huge numbers of humans in the north that if they died in service to their vampire masters, they would rise to join the ruling class. Over the last few years, preparing for a war with the free humans that he feared would come, he had forged legions of so-called “Undead.” He had sent them on a suicide mission to destroy half the Equatorian fleet at Gibraltar. He had sent them in massed attacks to damage the precious port facilities in Marseilles and other cities that the Equatorians needed to invade Europe. Those Undead assaults had contributed to the desperate situation that the Equatorian forces now found themselves in with fewer troops and less materiel and little air support. Now Cesare had new uses for his human legions.
He said, “The Undead are serving two purposes for me now. With the growth of the clan alliance, you know that I have found it useful to place humans around the capitals and camps of our allies, and our potential allies.”
“Why must you use humans as spies?”
“No one suspects their food. They can move unnoticed, and they may hear things that would be useful to me. Don't worry, Hallow, you shouldn't have to speak to them directly. I have vampire agents in place across Europe. I would hate for you to sully yourself.”
Hallow couldn't quite hide her sneer. “You realize it is likely these Undead spies will be killed? Just in the course of a normal day's feasting. They are just humans.”
“Let them die then. I'll replace them.” Cesare gave Hallow a light touch meant to reassure her that he was quite sure of his course. “Now, my other duty for the Undead is in the south. The operations of the Equatorian army have created a chaotic situation in the Rhone Valley, with refugees everywhere. I have sent hundreds of Undead to insinuate themselves into those human streams and create chaos where they can. But more, I have chosen certain Undead who have been sent into Equatoria.” He glanced up, annoyed at Hallow's questioning expression. “Do you have some quibble with this strategy too?”
“Suicidal missions are one thing, my lord,” she replied, “but I don't like arming humans. The Undead are clumsy at best and potentially traitorous at worst.”
“Traitorous? Don't be ridiculous. They'll do anything for me. They want to be me.”
“Don't the Undead wonder why they've never seen any of their colleagues return as a vampire? How long before they start to question this?”
“They've already created a complicated set of ideas to explain away the inconsistencies in their doctri
ne. Humans are good at that. For them, it's all about faith.”
The female continued to listen to her prince, trying to hide her doubts but failing.
“You must have faith too, Hallow. I know what I'm doing. I don't use just the Undead. I have an Equatorian traitor who is serving me. With his assistance, Undead infiltrators are tasked with certain important duties inside Equatoria.”
“Such as?” Hallow asked suspiciously.
Cesare bared his teeth in a semblance of a grin. “Killing Empress Adele.”
The ambassador nearly rolled her eyes and asked with slight sarcasm, “How many times are you going to attempt to kill that girl?”
“Until she's dead!” Cesare shouted violently, then squeezed his hands into fists and snarled, “Until she is dead.”
FIFTEEN METAL MONOLITHS shaped in human form stared down with empty black eyes at the three people gathered before them. The iron men towered twelve feet, standing silently in a line, as wind-driven snow piled onto their steel shoulders. One of the great suits of armor had its chest-cavity hatch open, revealing the complex controls enabling a man to operate the mechanical anatomy. The White Guard had formed a wide cordon to keep the curious away from the camp’s new arrivals.
“This,” Adele announced, “is our newly formed Galahad Battalion.”
Anhalt took in the motionless army a moment. “Galahads?”
“So I dubbed them,” Adele said. “They’re like giant knights.”
“Yes, I see,” the general commented, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his greatcoat. “Majesty, you well know that we tested these land tanks two years ago, but the General Staff decided against buying them from the Katangans. They are difficult to keep fueled, so their range is limited. And they proved wildly unreliable.”
“That was my father’s General Staff, who were not always the most progressive of men. The Katangans have improved these tanks enormously. They are much more maneuverable now. In addition, I’ve brought experienced Katangan drivers whom King Msiri has seconded to our army. Given my limited needs for them, these machines will serve our purposes.”
“And your purposes are?” Greyfriar stared at the machines with curiosity.
“A diversion of sorts,” Adele said. “Each carries a flame thrower, fifty-caliber machine guns, and explosives.” She gestured to Anhalt, who stood thoughtfully with a thumbnail to his lips. “You need only to occupy the vampires’ attention long enough to allow me to do what I must.”
“What can you hope to accomplish alone that my army has been unable to do for the past months?”
“The Bastille above Grenoble is located on a dormant rift. I intend to activate it, like I did in the Mountains of the Moon.”
Anhalt cast a sharp glance at her.
Greyfriar pointed out the obvious. “The city is riddled with my…with vampires.”
“And the city is also intersected by dragon spines, ley lines. So long as I stand near them, I can walk into the central fort undetected.”
Her two colleagues regarded her dubiously.
“Geomancer.” Adele pointed to herself.
“Mamoru has taught you to do this? To hide from vampires?”
“Yes. Apparently he says I’m quite good at it.”
“Madness!” Anhalt shouted. “You cannot survive alone at the mercy of thousands of vampires!”
“She will not be alone,” Greyfriar said quietly.
Now it was Adele’s turn to be outraged. “Oh no. You can’t go this time. I can’t protect you. I won’t have you die in Grenoble.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Not after nearly killing you in Africa. Only humans will survive what I’m going to do up there.”
“I’m the only one who can safeguard you to the rift in case something goes wrong. Once you’re there, I will leave you to do what you must.”
Anhalt exploded at Greyfriar. “I can’t believe you’re agreeing to this?”
“It would give us Grenoble, and we both know she is more than capable of protecting herself against vampires.”
Adele said softly, “General, I know you fear for me. And I understand your argument that I am the empress and, therefore, irreplaceable, but at heart, I am still Adele. My people remain more important to me than the crown or my own life. In order to win this battle and move forward, everything that can be done must be done.”
The conviction in Adele’s eyes outweighed any counterpoint General Anhalt could muster. This was not about law or protocol or any sense of reason. This was an attempt by Adele to safeguard her people.
Anhalt let out the breath he had been holding, the fire in his eyes fading as he faced Adele. He nodded his consent. “I do not pretend to understand what it is you do, Majesty, and if I could take this burden from you, I would.”
Her hand reached out to touch his shoulder. “Have faith.”
Anhalt laughed humorously. “I have faith in you. It is the magic I cannot see that worries me.”
“Then trust me,” Greyfriar said. “I know what she can do, and it is terrifying and powerful. But it won't stop me from standing beside her.”
Adele opened her mouth to protest once more, but Greyfriar stared at her. His cold, mirrored glasses betrayed nothing, but it was enough to still her protests. She whispered, “I would be grateful for your company.”
“So be it then,” Anhalt said, disheartened but realizing his private concerns fell flat in the wake of winning the war. Only determination remained in all of them now. “We’ll throw everything we have at Grenoble to draw the vampires down from the Bastille.”
“We’ll name it Operation Bengal.” At Anhalt’s frown, she replied, “I promised Simon I’d name something after him. I can’t disappoint him.”
“Yes, your brother, the prince of Bengal, would appreciate that. Just so long as it isn’t named Forlorn Hope. Isn’t that the usual name of something so foolhardy and reckless?”
“I’ve heard that survivors of such hopeless operations get to name their reward?” noted Greyfriar.
Adele laughed. “And what riches would you ask for?”
Greyfriar replied without hesitation. “For you to finally show me your library in Alexandria.”
Adele reached out to touch his arm. “I know we haven’t had much time since my coronation and the start of the war. I’ll grant your wish. The moment we return home.”
He nodded and then commanded, “Come with me.” With a turn of his heel, he strode toward the gangplank to nearby Edinburgh. Adele followed, her heartbeat building. They marched up onto the deck, and with the crews’ heads pivoting to follow the pair, they disappeared down the companionway. There was a lone glow from a chemical lamp in a recess of the wall. Greyfriar held the door to their old cabin and she entered.
The moment the door closed, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him in a deep embrace. She crushed against him, her mind filled only with the desire of him. His leather glove held the nape of her neck and tilted her head up as she pulled the cloth from his sharp-featured face so he could kiss her. His long dark hair brushed her cheek. She thought only of the long days and nights without him, filled with worry and want. His rough, desperate touch spoke the same.
Then she realized smoke was rising between them. She tried to pull back. “No, it’s too soon. I’m hurting you.”
“Hardly,” he whispered hoarsely, refusing to let her go. He drew her back to him and captured her lips.
She couldn’t refuse him. The need in both of them filled the room, though Gareth never demanded or forced more. She often thought about pushing their relationship, particularly when they were about to rush headlong to their possible deaths. Which seemed frequent.
The rise and fall of Gareth’s chest against her felt as steady as the tides of the earth. As always, they lived in the space of a moment, forgetting their fears and the bittersweet taste of reality. Soon they would be in peril again. These fleeting moments together were all that was allowed them.
Medieval spires rose above Grenoble, gre
y shapes in the milky sky. The city was frozen in time, still and serene, but not for much longer. Adele glanced at the man beside her, a man who always liked the shadows, and now stood in a world that had turned stark white.
Adele’s breath formed in front of her in misty clouds. Snow was falling and she couldn’t help watching it. Despite the fact that she was shivering in the deep drift, the gentle flutter of the snowflakes coming down around her was mesmerizing. Having spent her entire life in the tropics, Adele had always dreamed of seeing a driving northern snow. This, however, was not the circumstance she had conjured for her wintry fantasy. Her outfit was white and grey, made of heavy wool, but she still felt the chill in her extremities. Her clothes were rough and tattered, similar to what the humans wore inside the city. She had to look the part of a bedraggled human to avoid raising an alarm.
Gareth stood in just a shirt and coal grey pants and boots. He was bare to the elements, and completely unaffected by the bitter cold. Once they had left camp, he had shed his Greyfriar persona. His pack of clothes and weapons was gone now, buried under the piling snow.
“Another outfit lost,” she lamented, her teeth chattering until she clamped them shut.
“I’ll find it,” he said simply. “How close is your dragon spine?”
“It’s close.” She was much better at sensing them now, whereas before she tended to stumble across them. This was a relief given the possibility that her power could be triggered unexpectedly, a constant fear with Gareth around. She couldn’t bear to hurt him again.
Adele wrapped a tattered scarf tighter around her nearly frozen face with fingers that were already well past that state. Her attention tracked to the west, waiting for the sounds of the battle that she knew was set to commence. Still, she jumped when the first boom sounded and black smoke billowed into the ashen sky.
The March of the Galahads had begun.
Mobs of vampires inside the city walls veered toward the attack, black spots rising framed against the white flakes falling.
Kingmakers, The (Vampire Empire Book 3) Page 5