Page 112 of Besieger
“Your station is at my side, Kyrillos. In my bed.” Silvio had told him once.
Kyrillos was not greedy, he would learn to share. He did not care about theMarquis, nor about any other lover his master might call to his bedchamber, now or in the future, as long as there was room for Kyrillos.
Silvio had lived for almost a millennium and found two souls worthy of being sired by him. Kyrillos intended to be the third. He was going to be the first vampire made by the new Coven Master—the first of a new royal line. All he had to do was deliver theMarquisto the Court.
SCARLETT, 2020
Trust Raffaelle to be the one to break the news that theMarquishad been found. Scarlett had never asked how her brother came by such knowledge, what mortal or vampire whispered secrets to him. Nothing of her own remained hidden; she had bared herself in service to Ingenuar and the Coven, in her station as the All Mother. Now, as Silvio’s councillor, Scarlett had even fewer secrets.
The servants were busy preparing for Emerick’s return, Silvio had sent instructions for a banquet. He made himself the architect, cook and guest of honour at the grand table of his greed, and the centrepiece of his table was meant to be a dish of dripping gold, left empty, waiting to be filled.
Over the years since his ascension, Silvio fed that hunger by cramming every corner of the building with things of beauty and delicacy. He pried his fingers into the very walls and ripped the marble tiles off the floors, replaced them with an opulence so excessive that bordered on madness. Silvio consulted Scarlett on the renovations and restorations. He listened to her patiently, nodded along, kept notes himself or trusted Kyrillos to mark down whatever his master found of interest. Scarlett was not particularly fond of the mansion. Without Ingenuar, the Coven was only a building, a place to keep her safe and dry, and nothing more. If Silvio wanted to level it with the ground and erect a cathedral to carnality, she would only argue with him over how the waste would outweigh the practicality of it.
“You are turning this into a monument of remembrance. It is not a homage to the living,” Scarlett had pointed out, when she actually wanted to ask whether this was what Emerick himself would have wanted. Love, if love it was, had turned into a sickening obsession for the Coven Master.
“But we are not of the living, my dear,” Silvio began, trying to contradict her, but she cut him off.
“And neither are we of the dead. We are beyond.”
When a maid delivered the summons, Scarlett assumed it would be for yet another list of ghastly paintings or crystal chandeliers Silvio sought her opinion on. It made her bitterly recall how Ingenuar has never summoned her into his study or sent for a servant to fetch her. He had always come to her and extended his invitation in person. Never a summons. Never an order.
She did not expect to find Silvio behind his writing desk, with Kyrillos standing frozen by the wall, his hands clasped behind his back.
How frail he looks, Scarlett noted, once she could see the butler in the light of the chandelier.A wraith of the young man we took in years ago.
“Madame.”
Silvio’s velvet voice called her to attention. She stepped closer and smoothed her palm over the fabric of her dress, waiting. She had assumed that the visit would be brief, having left her chambers without changing out of her simple silk dress in Tyrian purple. Scarlett liked the feel of it and the few flowers embroidered along the front. Ingenuar had bought it to her not long ago—it had been his favourite among the many in her wardrobe, and Scarlett carried fond memories wearing it. The silk sash that helped keep the dress tightly wrapped around her waist, now suffocated and irritated her despite the lightness of the fabric. The hem was too long; it restricted her movements.
“Over the centuries, your maker summoned me to this Coven by letter, to do his bidding: retrieve things for him, or keep him company. He is no longer here to return the favour.”
Silvio smoothed a piece of parchment and lifted a stick of wax above the candle flame. The wax dripped, forming a pool across the letter. Out of his pocket he pulled a signet ring and pressed it into the hot wax.
“Kyrillos tells me there are ways to track my consort. To his precise location. Emerick has left a trail even a human couldtrace, charting his movements across the globe in minute detail, one purchase at a time.”
The butler hurried forward to hand Scarlett a folder—a collection of pages filled with numbers and descriptions she barely understood: purchase orders, deeds to a house, certificates, passport issues, and black-and-white photographs.
“It seems my consort has been enjoying himself in Bulgaria. The same place I had found his beloved sister years ago.” Silvio ran his tongue over his teeth in agitation. “I would like you to retrieve him. Deliver this summons on my behalf, Madame.”
Silvio extended his hand, a bare hand reaching towards her gloved fingers, and the sealed parchment burned her eyes. The sigil Silvio used was the same one Ingenuar had stamped upon his letters. The same sigil he had used to issue invitations to the Regents.
“What if he does not wish to return?” Scarlett asked, accepting the letter. It felt hot in her hand, burning through the lace of her gloves where her fingers brushed the hardened wax. Reluctantly, she tore her eyes from the sigil in Silvio’s hand. For a moment she worried that he meant to put the ring on, but she had never seen him wear rings or jewellery. It would be a sign of arrogance, a vile misuse of power, if he meant to begin now and in front of her like this.
“He is the consort of the Coven Master. His place is beside me.”
I will have what is mine, Silvio whispered in her mind; Scarlett took a sharp breath in. The more power he gained through the Coven, the less control he seemed to have over his emotions, and his desires.
“No letters for the other Regents?” she ventured instead, desperate to shake the echo of his voice from her mind. If Silvio summoned the sultanate, Mihaela could come home. She missed her blood-daughter and the silence from the eastern territories unnerved her.
Silvio regarded her in silence, unblinking.
“When you ascended, you appointed me your councillor, Silvio,” Scarlett reminded him. “Nhalme insisted on keeping the other Regents at a distance, fearing they might usurp the throne. Even after you were made Master, they were kept at bay. Why? They have yet to swear fealty to you. Extend an invitation to their consorts or form a new council of your choosing. Summon all the Regents to the Coven. Do not make thisonlyabout Emerick,” she pleaded. “It cannot always be about him. Your responsibility extends to the whole Coven—toallof us.”
Accepting the role ofMarquis, and later Master, Silvio had always done it for Emerick. His lover was a chip he bargained with, time and time again. That is why it had taken so long to find him; Silvio had never planned for such an incident. He had spent all his immortal life with Emerick right there, by his side, but he had failed to foresee and make arrangements for a time when his lover would no longer be within reach. And this simple oversight had driven him to lunacy.
“I have no need for the other Regents,” Silvio dismissed her. He set the signet ring aside and flipped through the paperwork scattered across the desk.
As if sensing her exasperation, Kyrillos stepped forward and inclined his head in a bow.
