Adam finished his food. He glanced at Guccio, who was watching the other two vampires. Guccio had managed the whole meal without saying more than a single sentence. Adam was a little, a very little, disappointed in Guccio, that the vampire was going to do nothing—leaving Adam in an awkward position. Maybe the story Guccio had told about marking Adam had been true—except that he’d bitten him and bound him instead. The marking could be overlooked as the bite never could. Should Adam let the trespass go if Guccio didn’t make a move? Adam found that answer extremely unsatisfying, and so did his wolf.
“I regret what I had to do,” Bonarata was telling Marsilia in a soft voice.
Marsilia lifted a brow in disbelief, and Bonarata gave a half-embarrassed laugh and spread his arms. “You are right. I needed the power, Marsilia. If I had not had it, we would not have survived.”
She made a sound that might have been disagreement. “Did your werewolf blood give you more power than having Stefan and me by your side would have? More than Wulfe? You broke him, too, Iacopo. He is not . . . not safe anymore.”
Bonarata nodded. “When they saw what I was willing to do, what I could do, they quit fighting me. It allowed me to take the reins here. To keep us all safe.”
She looked at him. “Then, my once-love, what is it that you regret?”
“That I could not have just told you what I was doing and why,” he said. “That I had to hurt you.”
She shook her head. “Don’t pretend that was part of your plan. You hurt me, I hurt you back. I broke your rules, fed from Lenka, and tried to break your hold on her. I failed in that, to my regret. You punished me for breaking your rules—but my real crime was hurting you. Was daring to tell you that what you had done, what you were doing, was wrong. I know you, Iacopo. You aren’t sorry for anyone except yourself.”
She didn’t say it like she was condemning him, but she meant it.
His face lost all expression. “You don’t know me, Marsilia. You knew the person I was. And call me Jacob.”
“Fair enough,” she agreed. “But I, too, have changed. I’m not yours through thick and thin anymore, I am not your Blade. I do not feel the need to forgive you anything, Jacob. I will never pine for you again, though I think I will remember you fondly. In a few years, perhaps.” She glanced around. “And if you really wanted me back, we’d have had this conversation without an audience. Having discussed everything that needed to be said, Adam needs to leave for Prague to find his mate. Have we your leave to go?”
Bonarata leaned back in his chair, looking at Marsilia. His face was sad and hungry and lonely. “I believe our business is concluded.” Bonarata looked at Adam for confirmation.
Adam considered the vampire. “Just to have things clear between us,” he said. “You know what we’re doing back home, and it isn’t what you thought. The fae aren’t going to suddenly kill a bunch of humans in a spectacularly messy fashion because it is not in their best interests. There won’t be a second Inquisition begun because of us. You are now okay with this and won’t send another crew out to attack me and mine.” He took a deep breath and had to fight to keep his wolf from snarling. “If you do, I won’t be coming over here on a diplomatic mission a second time. I am not a diplomat. Like you, I am a killer, and anyone who forgets that deserves what they get. That said, I am leaving as soon as I can get my crew packed and ready.”
Bonarata said, very quietly, “Be careful, wolf. Remember what I am.”
“Back. At. You.”
“Adam,” Marsilia. “Jacob. Perhaps we should just agree that matters have been settled.”
Bonarata stood up, giving permission for everyone in the room to do likewise. Adam got to his feet, too, tucking his chair back under the table.
Bonarata rounded the table, his path taking him around Guccio rather than Marsilia. “I won’t say it has been a pleasure,” Bonarata said. “But it has been interesting. I wish you luck on your endeavors.”
He held out a hand, Adam reached out and—finally, finally Guccio made his move.
“Hold him,” Guccio said softly, sending the command up the blood bond he’d initiated when he had fed from Adam in the hall this afternoon.
12
Matt Smith (who is not the Doctor) and Adam
Water is wet and vampires are treacherous.
MATT SMITH HAD BEGUN TO WONDER IF LENKA’S DEATH or something else had interfered with Guccio’s plans. That Bonarata had people waiting to usurp his power wasn’t a surprise to him. Werewolves were a little more honest about it, usually, but when a race was governed by the meanest bastard around, one generally had to prove that one was the meanest bastard over and over again. Until someday one wasn’t, and someone else got to fight all the time.
Matt glanced across the room at Bonarata, who seemed to be giving the “good-bye and good riddance” speech to Adam and Marsilia. Or maybe one finds someone else to take out one’s enemies. Just how likely was it that Guccio had managed all of this without Bonarata’s noticing? Bonarata, the Lord of Night, who had been a prince of the Italian Renaissance, seemed unlikely to be the sort of man who overlooked an attempted coup.
If Guccio and Adam fought, thought Matt, watching Bonarata carefully not look at Guccio, then Bonarata could not lose. If Adam killed Guccio, he was down one rebel. If Guccio killed Adam, he would be considerably weakened.
Matt set his napkin on the table and started to get up at the same time Bonarata and everyone at the head table got up.