Page 3 of Devoted

“You sound pretty confident that will happen.”

“Giovanni got the upper hand at that council meeting, but I doubt it will happen again.” She ran her manicured fingers along the sideboard laden with fruit and pastries before plucking a cherry and popping it into her mouth. “How are your wounds today?”

“Better.” I rolled my shoulder, working out the stiffness. “Thank you for allowing me the services of your healer.”

Last night, I’d hovered on death’s door, beaten within an inch of my life, and I doubted another healer—even Emilia’s—could have managed to get me back on my feet so quickly. Yet another testament to Valeria’s capabilities.

Her villa was as secure as the Draconi fortress, layers of spellwork and magic imbued into the stone walls around us, every inch as luxurious as a Venice palazzo, though more modern in design. Demente soldiers were subtly positioned around the structure, through the formal gardens and down on the beach, a veritable shield of protection.

“Gia is our very best,” she scanned me head to toe, her lips tightening at my still-healing face. “Do you think the guards treated my father the same way?”

Did they torture him, she meant.

I could lie.

Perhaps I should lie, but strong alliances weren’t built on fabrications; they were built on the truth.

Even if those truths were difficult.

“Most likely, they did. The guards who beat me weren’t Draconi soldiers. These were Lord Blackwood’s personal guards, and they… relished violence. Perhaps they saw me as a traitor and treated me as such.”

“My father is no traitor,” she spat. “The only traitors are those two fuckers. You need to get him out of there.”

First, her father was a traitor, more than she’d ever know, and second, rescuing the old bastard would be nearly impossible, given the Sala del Giuramento was a certifiable fortress.

“Freeing Rocco from La Sala won’t be easy,” I said diplomatically. “Now that Blackwood is involved, a rescue mission will be even more complicated. Planning will take time. Days, at the very least.”

And while I was impressed by Valeria’s loyalty to the traitorous bastard, I had no intention of sacrificing myself for Rocco’s freedom. As far as I was concerned, he was exactly where he belonged.

Rotting in hell.

“My father doesn’t have time.” She looked at me steadily, no reproach in her gaze. “I know you cut off his hand for betraying Emberline. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for his part in that treachery,” she added without hesitation. “There is no honor in using loved ones as weapons.”

“Honor doesn’t matter to Giovanni. Or Blackwood. This fight for the throne will get ugly, Valeria. Vampires will die. And I make no guarantees we won’t be among them.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. “I’m not looking for guarantees. I’ve spent my life watching my father forge his wicked bargains and secret pacts, and I always knew I could do better. Even if you manage to free Rocco, I have no intention of handing him back the reins of the Demente Empire. His time is over. Rocco was content to hide in the shadows and choke on his secrets. I will bring our family into the light, and an alliance with you is the first step.”

“I… don’t know what to say, except I’m looking forward to working with you, Valeria.” Completely shocked by that revelation, I reassessed my new ally, wondering if she was playing me, telling the truth, or setting a trap.

I was still searching for a response when her gaze lifted over my shoulder, her expression closing down until there wasn’t a trace of emotion left.

“Good,” she said, every word clipped. “Everyone is finally up.”

They dragged into the dining room as if they’d slept like the dead—or barely survived a war.

Dante came first, holding Emberline’s hand, his piercing blue gaze settling on Valeria and me—before leading his wife to the food-laden table and murmuring in her ear.

Emotion clogged my throat.

All of them were alive.

The deal I’d forged last night—whatever future deals I’d make to keep them safe—would be worth the price. I didn’t care what happened to me, so long as my friends—my family—were protected.

They were all that mattered.

But a raw ache squeezed my heart at Ember’s pale face, the hesitant way she moved, no sign of her usual confidence. I knew her well enough to know why.

She blamed herself for last night’s failure, when that responsibility fell squarely on my shoulders, and mine alone.