Page 7 of Besieger
“I must apologize for not greeting you properly, Count,” Ingenuar rose from his seat. “Normally, I would have my other Regents join us but they are entangled with conflicts in the East.”
The ugly loud laugh from earlier came again from somewhere in the crowd. Just as the cackle started it died abruptly. Silvio raised an eyebrow; he had heard that a treaty had been signed between the Russians and the Ottomans many years ago, and like any other mortal dealing he let the news wash over him, unconcerned. It was troublesome enough to follow the piling problems of the French without concerning himself with foreign tensions.
“Come. Let me look at you.” Ingenuar lifted his hand and beckoned for Silvio to approach. The All Father was still standing on top of the pedestal, looking down at his covenant.
Before letting go, Silvio leaned in and kissed Dulior’s cheek. His lips brushed lightly, almost lovingly, against her cheekbone. When he pulled away their eyes met and he exhaled, his breath turning into a thoughtful hum. He could not place her expression, a fleeting shadow of fear and confusion. It looked foreign on her, and so unlike her.
I look forward to tearing free of your womb, mother.
The maliciousness of the thought took him by surprise. Had he failed to hide it? Had he laid bare his most guarded secret—his entire soul—before these strangers? He did not dare look around and see if anything had changed. His heart was racing, a manic desire to leap forward suddenly overcame him. He wanted to move his body, to give voice to his innermost thoughts and fears. To speak them out loud. Finally.
Emerick assumed Silvio’s place next to Dulior and took her hand. He lifted it to his lips in mock courtesy. The gold embroidery on his clothes shone beautifully in the bright light;the foliage, a dying echo of an abundant harvest. There they stood, in this ballroom—his son and his mother, his lover and his wife—in a room full of devils sharing the same blood, nightmares similar, and yet nothing like them. And at the heart of it all stood Silvio—husband to a woman he despised, bound to a man he wanted to drown in pleasure.
There would be plenty of time to deal withher, Silvio thought, gathering his composure. First he had to secure the favour of the All Father and his undying court.
Climbing the few steps to the makeshift throne, Silvio took the opportunity to survey his surroundings. He noticed that despite Dulior and the tailors’ protests on the fashions of the Eastern courts, the vampires were not dressed in an extravagant show of decadence. Most of them wore travel clothes, attire suited for riding—or just modest suits. He saw the flash of rings and precious stones, the excellence of the fabric and intricacy of the stitching, yet the colours of this court remained muted. They wore dark green, royal blue, even black. Their heavy capes were made of black velvet, and brushed the polished hardwood on the floor as they paced among each other, going back to the conversations they were having before the guests’ arrival. Silvio and Emerick’s black suits blended in perfectly, unlike Dulior’s dress which made her quite conspicuous, even among the women.
The only woman in a dress as bright as hers was the lady behind Ingenuar. While Dulior wore a polychrome chintz print of roses and white lace sleeves, the other woman’s white silk gown possessed a quiet elegance. Green flowers twisted down in a serpentine pattern, creating a shape similar to thefleur de lis. The corseted bodice fitted the gown nicely over the woman’s body, giving her an aristocratic aura despite the lack of jewels on her neckline and hands. Her jet-black hair was done in the familiar French fashion oftête de moutonand her curls were powdered and gleaming in the candlelight. No bows or ribbons, no diamond tears in the curls which Silvio knew would be softand light to the touch. All vampire hair was pleasing to the touch, it flowed like water through his fingers.
“Scarlett,mein Engel.” Ingenuar said turning towards the woman, reaching for her hand.
The couple made a small bow, a gesture of mock compliance with etiquette. Up close, Silvio saw how brighter Ingenuar’s clothes were compared to those his children were wearing. He was the only one in the room in red. His coat had a flaring peplum, tailored in the silhouette of the French court, and the wool breeches burned in the same stark colour. Heavy embroidery in metallic thread traced down the sleeves of the coat, the vest, and the breeches, giving the illusion of scales—an armour of flames and feathers. A sanguine creature drenched head to toe in red. The silhouette burned Silvio’s eyes the longer he studied it.
“Count, this is my consort, Scarlett,” the Coven Master introduced his companion.
The All Mother, Silvio thought, his lips trembling when he leaned in to kiss the offered hand.
The woman laughed, startling him.
“Nothing of the sort. You will find me closer to your age, Count,” Scarlett corrected him kindly. They had read his mind again. “We are not the execratory Adam and Eve. I may come from Ingenuar’s blood but he did not find me in a garden.”
“Silvio, and nothing more, I beg you,” it was Silvio’s turn to make an amend. “Address me as Silvio. The Count is a man who lives among mortals who pretend his youthfulness comes from partaking in the King’s vineyard. And they would be right,” he smiled, in a show of smugness. “I am known to have an unstable taste for nobles.”
Ingenuar looked at him curiously, waiting to be let in on the joke and glanced back at Emerick who had just snorted, half-suppressing a laugh.
“And this is…?” The Coven Master tilted his head.
Silvio made to do the introductions when Dulior cut him off. Her voice was colder and louder than usual so that everyone could hear, not just the royal couple.
“A friend of my husband.”
They all waited a beat, expecting for a name to follow. Silvio could see Scarlett looking at him from the corner of her eyes. He could not see Ingenuar’s expression.
“Emerick Gabrielli, my liege.”
Emerick’s mouth curled in a sneer and he bowed lightly without letting go of Dulior’s hand. When he straightened up he pulled her abruptly against him. Silvio did not like the look on his face. “You must forgive my mother, my liege. I am a child denied her favour, but she tolerates me nonetheless.”
Without turning to look at his consort Ingenuar uttered a few words in German. At the same time a servant briskly passed behind the pedestal and revealed a door hidden in the wall behind the throne. It opened and the man stood to the side, waiting. Scarlett replied—also in German, her voice low and velvet. Silvio could not tell what they were saying, the language was spoken too fast for him to make out the words. Despite having used Prussian and Austrian aliases in the past, he had never bothered to pick up the language. The mortals they met and swindled in France never noticed or complained, they were delighted to converse in their native French.
He made a mental note to correct this linguistic oversight. He knew for a fact that Emerick would quickly remedy this as well. What use was mind-reading if you could not understand what you pulled from someone’s thoughts. No secrets and desires could be plucked out and dined upon like this.
“See to our guests, my love.” Ingenuar switched back to French and beckoned for Silvio to follow him. “Make some introductions or explore the mansion, as you desire. You will be called when we are ready.”
Nothing changed in the ballroom when the All Father headed to the secret door. The conversations and chatter did not fadeaway, the vampires neither paused to bow nor follow him with their eyes. The human servants continued to walk among them, busy with their chores. As Silvio turned to follow the All Father outside, he noticed a second figure behind the throne, one that had not been there moments ago. The man was making his way down the steps, away from the crowd, his rust coloured foreign robes gliding over the polished floor. Silvio squinted, unable to make out anything of the man’s face other than the hooded eyes and black hair. Silvio blinked and the man was lost in the sea of immortals.
Shaking his head, Silvio stepped through the secret door and heard the lock click shut behind him.
“I thought it best to speak in private, seeing how unaccustomed you are to guarding your thoughts,” Ingenuar ushered Silvio into a drawing room.
