Page 118 of Filthy Rich Vampires: For Eternity

“She’s a handmaiden,” he growled with such sudden ferocity that I took a step back.

Across from me, Camila laughed. “I suppose that answers the question,” she teased.

Before either of us could pry more info from him, Geoffrey reappeared. “Madame Sabine Rousseaux.”

“Gird your loins,” Lysander muttered as Geoffrey stepped to the side to allow his mother to enter the room.

Sabine glanced around the room, her eyes landing on each of us in turn. Unlike the rest of us, she was dressed formally. The black hair she shared with her daughter was twisted in a graceful chignon and pinned with amethyst hair clips. Her aubergine gown flowed to the floor, and a fur stole was wrapped around her arms like she’d just come from a party that none of us were invited to.

She inclined her head to me. “Jacqueline—”

“What are you doing here?” Camila cut her off. “I thought I was quite clear. I don’t wish to speak with you. As head of—”

“I’m not here to speak with you,” Sabine snarled, any semblance of civility vanishing. “I have been trying to reach my son.”

“What do you need?” Lysander stepped forward, hands shoved into his pockets.

Her eyes flickered over him. “What are you doing here? Or are you planning to betray me like this one?” She heaved a wounded sigh toward her daughter.

Camila only laughed again.

“I’m just here.” Lysander didn’t bother to explain he’d come with Aurelia, because that would raise more questions that no one wanted to answer.

“Don’t make it a habit,” she warned him, sniffing slightly, “but I came looking for Julian. I tried to reach him at court, but he’s not returning my messages. I assume he’s avoiding me. I’d like to know why.”

“He’s not avoiding you.” I braced myself for Sabine’s usual brand of theatrics. She might not be head of her household anymore, and Julian might have his own bloodline in the works but Sabine wouldn’t be pleased to learn the reason he wasn’t returning her calls. “He took Thea away on holiday.”

“On holiday? What do you mean?” Sabine’s face blanched, and she grabbed ahold of the nearest chair.

Lysander shot to her, offering support to keep her steady on her feet. He aimed a questioning look at me over her shoulder. “They’ll be back in a few days,” he said in a calm voice.

But Sabine shook her head, her eyes growing wild with panic. “Tell me they’re in Venice, at least.”

“They aren’t…” It was the most I was willing to share, especially with Sabine. Julian would never forgive me if his mom broke down his door and interrupted his sex-cation. “But they will be back.”

“What have they done?” she murmured, her chest rising and falling in deep pants. “Who else knows they’ve gone?”

“The Queens and the guards.” Lysander shrugged a shoulder, looking as tired as I felt. “The Queens aren’t too happy about it, either.”

I suspected Aurelia was pissed, too. Maybe that’s why Lysander looked like he’d been burning the candle at both ends since they’d left three days ago.

Sabine’s eyes closed and she pushed Lysander gently away. When she opened them, the wildness remained but she held her head up. “We must contact them immediately. Lysander, you will go to your brother. Take that guard of Thea’s and—”

“Wait!” I jumped in as she made plans. It was a good thing I hadn’t told her where they were. “I’m not going to tell you where they are.”

“Yes, you will,” she hissed, “or I will rip your useless tongue out of your smart little mouth.”

Camila lunged forward, trying to get between us. My heart jumped at the protective gesture—at what it signaled—but now wasn’t the time to analyze Camila’s feelings. I held up my hand. I could handle Sabine Rousseaux. “I definitely can’t tell you if you do that.”

Sabine’s mouth fell open and she looked to her daughter. “You! Tell her she has to tell you.”

“No.” Camila crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. “I don’t take orders from you, remember? I’m head of this household now. Or did you forget, Mother?”

Sabine grabbed her daughter by the shoulders, pinning her with her frantic eyes. “This is not about you or me. If you care about your twin—if you love him, as I know you do—you will convince her to tell you. This is a matter of life and death.”

Camila studied her for a second, her face unreadable. Finally she lifted her eyes to mine. I saw the question there. Not the one Sabine demanded my answer, but the one I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

“What do you mean by life and death?” I asked softly.

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