Page 4 of Power's Fall

Colum had added a chair and put out place cards. One was just a sticky note rather than a fancy placard. As Franco passed it, he glanced over.

Nikolett.

The library doors opened, and footsteps echoed softly the way they should in a place like this. Two groups appeared at the end of the aisle. The first contingent was theirs—members of the Trinity Masters.

Rose and Sebastian were in the lead. Rose was Juliette’s former betrothed and current counselor, and Sebastian was Juliette’s best friend and another of her counselors. Both of them knew where the bodies were buried. With Rose, that wasn’t metaphorical.

Behind them were Marek and Owen.

Marek was here because he’d grown up in the Masters’ Admiralty, though he’d never been a member. He could provide context for—and possibly pick up on subtleties hidden in—things said by the Masters’ Admiralty delegation. He was also Rose’s husband, and though no one had said it out loud, he was also here to hold her back if shit went sideways. The instant Rose reached for an earring, he’d grab her.

Owen wasn’t someone Franco knew well, but the FBI agent was co-leader of the Masters Protection Force, the inter-society task force formed years ago in response to a joint threat. In many ways, the creation of the MPF had been the precursor to this meeting.

Instead of taking their seats, the Trinity Masters delegation gathered behind Juliette, a silent show of force.

It was dramatic and looked cool as hell.

Had they planned that? Franco needed to compliment whoever’s idea that was.

Behind them came the Masters’ Admiralty delegation.

Sophia and her husband Arthur were in front. Franco knew Sophia well because she’d stepped in as interim fleet admiral when Eric went AWOL hunting Josephine’s killer.

Arthur was the admiral of England, and his prosthetic arm looked state of the art. Unlike the Trinity Masters, which was one large society, the Masters’ Admiralty was nine territories, with names and borders that only made sense if you looked at very old maps. Eric, as the fleet admiral, was in charge of all of them, but the territories operated essentially autonomously.

Behind him were two more admirals. Franco knew them, thanks to the pre-meeting intelligence briefing Marek had given everyone.

Antonio was the admiral of Rome, which encompassed modern-day Italy and everything that bordered the Adriatic and Ionian seas. He was also Sophia’s brother.

Hande was the Ottoman admiral, her territory mostly modern-day Turkey but also the coastline of the Black Sea, giving her small pieces of Bulgaria, Romania, Ukraine, and even Russia.

Behind them were the final two members of the meeting.

Percy was a knight in England’s territory, and Owen’s co-chair on the MPF. Franco couldn’t express how much he loved that the men and women who held the knight positions in England took on the names of the Knights of the Round Table. Arthur had been Tristan when he was a knight, before he became admiral.

The last person to enter was a woman who hadn’t been mentioned in Marek’s briefing.

Marek was whispering something in Juliette’s ear, so Franco leaned toward Colum.

“That’s Nikolett, admiral of Hungary?” Though she hadn’t been discussed since she wasn’t on the original list, Marek had gone over the leadership information for each territory, with pictures. The blonde woman was lovely, but memorable for the sharp intelligence in her gaze, not the placement of her features.

“Sure enough.”

“And she and Eric…”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to know that, and I know I wasn’t meant to tell you,” Colum said in a near-frantic whisper.

According to Colum, Eric and Nikolett had athing. Apparently, when Eric had been in a blind berserker rage after finding the person who’d killed Josephine, Nikolett’s touch had been the only thing that could bring him back from the edge. Colum also thought something had happened more recently because when they talked last month, Colum had said Eric was being a “fecking muppet.”

Given the way Eric watched Nikolett, while she ignored him, Franco agreed that there was something going on there.

The Masters’ Admiralty contingent gathered awkwardly around the table, not exactly presenting a united front. Score one for team Trinity Masters.

“I think you have to say something,” Franco whispered to Colum.

“Ah, feck.”

“You’re the host.”

---