While Morana might be terrifying and a fucking psycho, she also knows how to throw a party.

It’s like going to the Academy Awards or that Met Gala Ball. In my bones, I know that if it was only the Kresova here tonight, she wouldn’t bother to maintain a façade of following the rules. There’d be corpses littered everywhere and human slaves to drain. It would be something out of the worst Roman spectacle, like throwing Christians to the lions.

Except we’re the effing lions.

Tonight, though, everyone looks like a member of the gliteratti. Thinking over the estates that Carver has maintained over the years, and the territory Morana has staked out in New Orleans and the heart of Paris, I’m not surprised. After all, the royal lines of all the races have to be rolling in some serious bank. It’s like Row implied, if you’re not a complete moron, you should be able to save up some serious coin over hundreds of years. From what Carver’s told me, the other royals---while not the first vampires---have still had thousands of years to amass their wealth.

Walking arm and arm with Carver, I try to keep my eyes down and stay as demure as possible. Yes, I’m an oddity, the few of the new Kresova fledglings allowed to live. The other handful are all huge, strapping guys, and ones who could withstand the change by being brought to Morana soon enough. I’m a girl and one who did it all on my own. But this fledgling can’t outshine the queen and live. I have no interest in it. I want to be off most of the royal’s radar so that I can survive another day. Survive, thrive, and return to make the Bitch Queen’s soon-to-be-short unlife a living hell.

However, like always, I have to dress the part. This time, Charles delivered the dress this afternoon with a terse note attached from Morana:

Wear this and don’t embarrass me.

The threat of being set on fire or torn apart was implied. Morana’s thoughtful like that.

On the other hand, the bodice of the black, sequined mermaid style dress hugs every curve I have in dangerous ways. Flecks of gold thread sewn into the torso of the dress shimmer under the light. It ends in a dramatic flare of layered tool just above my knees that spreads out into a mermaid tale as dramatic as anything in an old Hollywood classic. Even though I’ve been trying to keep my eyes down and avoid eye contact with any royals unless they initiate it, I have noticed a few of the younger vampires checking me out.

I’ve certainly noticed Carver clutching me more tightly and glaring at a few men as if he could kill them with a look.

When we enter Morana’s countryside estate, we’re shown to the gardens outside immediately. They’re a hedge maze of high greenery that feels impossible to find one’s way through. But they’re also so much more. Every so often a topiary animal peeks out through the hedges---stags, foxes, and even wolves that feel so real at least that the wolves are practically snarling at you. The high greenery around us isn’t plain either. Over them cascade hanging collections of ivy, lilac, and roses. God, so many effing roses in every color from the deepest crimson to even midnight blue. If everything weren’t about etiquette, I’d pluck a blue one for Reina. She’d dig its coloring so much.

We wander into the maze as everyone else present does, and I’m sure Morana loves this part of her game as well, loves that she can leave us disoriented in territory she’s probably stalked a million times over the centuries. Bitch Queen never does anything where she won’t be guaranteed the upper hand. It’s clearly not in her nature.

I unthread my arm from Carver’s. It’s the last thing I want to do, but it’s necessary for both of us to stay alive. When he led me to the door to be announced that, it was one thing to link arms. That’s custom or so he says, and everyone seemed to agree. Now? Well, the only one who’s more jealous than I am is Morana, and no need to piss her off deliberately. She’ll invent some reason for it later anyway.

Eventually, we come to a turn in the maze where Morana stands speaking with a small coalition. I don’t need for her to introduce me to understand instantly that it’s the other representatives from the three races. The Istria, Baetal and Draugur all have distinct appearances, that’s true. The man from the Draugur line has salt and pepper hair and must have been turned later in life. His suit looks even from here to be of the finest linen and has to be handmade, while creamy skin shines against the moonlight in the gardens. The Istria woman is dressed in flowing green silk that flutters in an artful kaftan over her voluptuous body. A forest green hat, one that comes to a high, flat arch over her head, sits prominently over her brow. Her tan skin almost giving away her Egyptian heritage. The Baetal looks young, maybe no older than Charles, but looks in our kind are deceiving. While the shortest of the three visiting heads, I can feel the power radiating from him almost as ferociously as I do from Abe in my dreams. His long silken robes are etched with intricate gold thread patterns and his long beard comes to a studied point well below his collar bone. I could totally see all the Vikings being descended from this guy.

Morana turns, sensing our approach as surely as I can sense the power flowing through the royal lines of the various factions. She doesn’t even turn but only gestures haphazardly at us with her free hand.

“You’ve met the other new Kresova, the best that could be salvaged from the unfortunate rogue sire in New Orleans.”

The Istria royal frowns, and, for an instant, I swear I can see her teeth. “That was most disappointing, Morana. Your secrets are ours.”

The Baetal nods his head. “Exactly, you swear the rogue element has been eliminated, and it better be.”

Morana doesn’t flinch in the face of criticism, although, knowing her, I bet she can’t wait to return to her quarters and rip the heads off humans for days while pretending she’s attacking the other royals instead. “The culprits have been dealt with, and the vampire rejects they created eliminated, non pas? There was no reason to destroy the few good ones we could take advantage of.”

The Draugur strokes at his chin. “Strategy as always, Morana.”

She nods and finally turns to us. It’s only so she can sidle up next to Carver. Her hands roam over him in ways that make me see red, that leave me seething and wishing I had the power to destroy her already. But I can’t. When she rubs at his groin again, it takes everything I have plus a quick, warning look from Carver to keep myself from lunging at that whore.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have need of mon assassin on the dance floor.”

I frown, and even in all of this tension, I can’t keep my big, dumb mouth from blurting out, “What dance floor?”

She laughs like I’m the stupidest child she’s ever met. At least my public humiliation will keep her off guard and realizing anything about me and Carver, that anything more is even between us. Not like she doesn’t have a massive ego about herself, after all. “If you can make it to the center of the maze, there’s a huge cotillion being held.”

Morana yanks Carver’s arm forcefully and they speed off so fast together under her lead that even I can barely follow it. Soon, the other race’s leaders do the same, clearly having no interest in dealing with a fledgling mistake.

Annoyed and ready to kill something---anything---I try rushing through the labyrinth too but only manage to get even more lost in the dense arrangement. I slow down in my frustration and walk through the gardens, my anger rising. Even if I get to the center, there’s nothing I can do but be forced to watch her dirty dance with Carver, and that’s the last thing on earth I could stand. Row after row of hedges greet me as well as the brilliant, vibrant roses covering them. This time, I’ve moved into a section with the palest pink blossoms and, if my lover weren’t in that damn spider’s web, it would almost be enjoyable.

Almost.

I can’t even forget about Morana even when traipsing through the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen.

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn around hissing and with fangs bared.

It’s only Hugo. That thought should comfort me, at least it’s not Charles or some member of the other races I’ve managed to offend just by existing. However, being in Hugo’s looming presence is still off-putting. Okay, not a ton, because I’m still a vampire, damn it. I can kick \ass if I need to. Besides, Hugo has some information he’s been lording over me already. I should be relieved. Anything, any nugget of info, that can help me take Morana down is more than welcome.

And yet…there’s just this vibe from Hugo I can’t trust.

I narrow my eyes at him even as my fangs retract. “You could warn a girl about the intrusion.”

He leers at me. “Where’s the fun in that. I said I had information, and the last thing I wanted to do was be obvious about it, Aurora.”

“First, my name’s Aura.” At least that’s what I want to be called by anyone who isn’t Carver. And Hugo? So not Carver. “Second, you don’t have to go all stalker on me in the hedge maze. That’s a bit too The Shining for me.”

“I suppose,” Hugo says. I can’t tell from his stoic expression if he understands what I’ve said or not. Maybe he’s too one track minded to care about the babblings of a barely turned vampire. Who knows. “But we’re here now.”

“And the info?”

He strokes my cheek. “We have time for that. I’d like to know more about you, Aura.” His voice trips over my preferred nickname like a private joke. “Do you have any idea who Carver really is?”

A loud cough sounds behind both of us, and I jerk my head around, glad to see that Lucian has come up from the other side of the maze. His dark hair is black in the night and his strong, sharp jaw is set now in a grim line. He takes in a breath to speak, all the while glaring at Hugo like he wants to kill him. Lucian probably does. “Hugo, the last person anyone ever wants to see.”

Hugo backs away from me and bunches his fists at his sides. “Lucian, I thought you were traveling and couldn’t come to the centennial.”

“Plans changed. Now, get off of her, you insect.”

The other vampire hesitates, as if he’s sizing up Lucian, but Hugo seems to decide it’s not worth it. Glancing at me, he adds, “I’ll get you that intel later, Aura.”

Holding my chin up defiantly, I glare at him too. “Next time, maybe don’t do it with touching too. Good night, Hugo.”

He makes record time scurrying away from us. Lucian’s hands are on me in an instant and a huge part of me is wounded and upset that the caresses have nothing to do with the passion simmering between us. He affects me as much as Carver does, just in a different way. Carver’s safety and kindness, but Lucian’s this dark mystery I can’t help but be drawn to. However, even I know he’s just checking me for any wounds, anywhere that Hugo might have hurt me.

Shaking my head, I say, “I’m all right.”

He takes my hand, and I let him. Lucian leads me through the garden, expertly navigating the maze until even I can hear the wafting sound of conversation and the strong pulse of courtly music coming yards away from us.

Lucian leans down toward me, his chestnut eyes wide with concern. His hands are running through my hair, and it sends prickles of electricity sizzling over my scalp. “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”

My heart leaps hopefully at the pet name, and I can’t ever deny how Lucian makes me feel. Ironically how alive. “I’m fine. Luckily, I had my dark, broody night in formal wear to save me.”

He grins despite himself. “I would always save you where I can.” He’s leaning in so closely to me that I think he’ll kiss me---fuck I wish he would. Lucian seems to realize himself and where he is and pulls himself upright. “I should make sure you get back to the festivities.”

“I’m sorry this is such a mess…the prophecy and our destiny and that you can’t really be with me or people you love with die.”

“I know that too.”

“And it doesn’t change a thing,” I say, placing a hand on his chest, over where his heart would have once beat. “However, I’m here, and I can’t stop how I feel for you.”

“If it makes you happier, I think of you fondly too, Aura. I just can’t…” His expression shutters.

“I know.” God do I know. And god does it hurt my chest to think about him with someone else. Loving someone else.

Out of the corner of my eye, Carver appears around an endless corner of the gardens. His expression is set into a closed off, unreadable line as he regards us both. “Lucian.”

“Marceau,” Lucian replies. It’s not bitter or cruel like Hugo’s taunts, but the use of Carver’s surname reminds all three of us that our little harem is flawed with so many problems, not the least of which is the strained history between Lucian and Carver. “Can you get her home. I think she’s had more than enough excitement for one evening.”

Carver nods. “Haven’t we all, and aren’t we all lucky to have survived a night among the other vampire races?”

Lucian runs a hand through his dark hair. I wish I could do the same. “One never knows what the other families will do.”

“Yes, the other families.” I say, but we all know that, deep down, we mean Morana and her madness. Any time you can walk away with her still alive and you’re lucky as hell.

Carver takes me by the elbow and I hesitate for just a moment, but things haven’t changed. Destiny or not, Lucian still has the oath he’s made, the woman he’s already bound to, and loved ones he must save with that alliance. I doubt anything will ever change that. Doesn’t make the feelings go away, doesn’t make it feel any less like I’m cutting off a limb when I leave.

I’m silent on the way to the limo, too overwhelmed by my feelings to really speak. Eventually, as the ride wears on, Carver starts into a conversation. “I see you were busy tonight.”

“Yeah, Hugo paid me a visit before Lucian cut him off at the knees so to speak.” I sigh, thinking about my stolen moments with Lucian.

“I understand, ma belle. I know it is not easy to want Lucian when you can’t have him. But it will all work out. I have known for decades how important this is, ever since Lavinia told me.”

“I know. Still doesn’t mean I’m not frustrated.” I rub at my temples. “How was your dance with Morana?”

“Are you jealous, ma belle?”

“A little bit, yeah.” I admit. “I know I shouldn’t be. You’re the one having to see me with Lucian and a third man as soon as we find him.”

“Mon Dieu, I could care less about you with Lucian. I know he is meant to be with us, and I can see how he makes you feel.”

My hands dig into the arm rest. “I can’t help but feel like it still upsets you a little bit though.” I look up into his crystal blue eyes.

His eyes flash silver, but he looks away, out the window. “I did not say I do not get a little jealous. However, I know how you feel about me, and I know how I feel about you, and despite it not being a normal situation, it is our situation and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, Aura.” Reaching over, he lets one heavy hand rest on my thigh while looking back into my eyes.

“It’s hard.”

“I know it is, but we will figure it out. Together. As a group.” His voice is firm, like he knows the truth of it, even if I’m not quite convinced yet.

“Even with the oaths he’s already taken…”

Carver sighs. “Destiny holds much for you, Aurora. You must lean into it.” He grips my chin gently in his hand, “Do not forget what you are meant to do. It will all fall into place.”

I nod. Pulling up my big girl panties and deciding to trust my fate. “Then, I need to be more.”

Carver frowns. “I do not understand, chérie.”

Gazing up at him, I put every ounce of strength I have into my words.

“I can’t take down Morana if I can’t fight. Sure, the Drias have to resurrect Abe, but I also need to be able to handle myself. I have vampiric strength, but who doesn’t around here? It’s not enough to be a strong vampire. I have to be a warrior vampire.” My lips curl up in a grin. “And you’re going to teach me.”