Page 134 of A Steeping of Blood
And he lowered his lips to the hollow of her shoulder without warning.
Arthie drew in an unsteady breath. Matteo’s mouth curved against her skin, and she felt the tip of his tongue, just barely, as if he wanted to taste her but wasn’t sure he’d like it.
But he did. He straightened with a lazy grin and hooded eyes. She knew he did.
Arthie locked her hands at the nape of his neck and tugged him toward her. He offered no resistance, his nose brushing hers, the soft strands of his hair teasing her brow, his lips soft and insistent on hers.
He pulled back. “Not yet. I see the light at the end of the tunnel, darling.”
“And then?” she asked, her lips abuzz.
“And then it’ll be an eternity of you and me,” he said, and pursed his lips. “Jin and Flick too, I suppose. We’ll open a new Spindrift, halfbloodhouse, half tearoom, both at once. Because you really ought to give your employees the nights off.”
Arthie laughed at that.
Matteo handed her a mask and the folded cloak tucked in its recess.
“Flick did it,” Arthie said. “And very well at that.”
Matteo shook his head, the light disappearing from his eyes. “The Ram ruined her hands. She can’t forge.”
Flick couldn’t forge. The Ram had gone out of her way to hurt each of them in any way she could. Arthie’s anger spiked in her blood once again.
“Indeed,” Matteo said, noticing. “Jin attempted to sweet talk his way into the Council members’ hearts, but he wasn’t in the greatest of spirits himself, and they weren’t very receptive. One of them was fond of his parents, however. That’s his mask.”
Arthie flipped the mask over in her hands.
“Am I right to assume Flick didn’t forge the invites, then? I never had the chance to ask.”
“She did not.”
Arthie would have been irritated once, annoyed at a failed task, but she couldn’t summon those emotions now. Those emotions feltwrongnow. She nodded. They would manage. They had to. The Ram had ruined far too much for them not to win.
She pulled the cloak over her shoulders and tossed her hat with the pile of her ragged clothes before twisting her hair into a bun. If she had Calibore, she would turn it into her bladed hairpin and hold the errant swoops in place.
“I still can’t believe she was trying to send an army of half vampires out on the streets,” Matteo said.
“On the streets?” Arthie asked.
“So I assumed,” Matteo said. “Where else? Monarchs have longcelebrated vicennials to rekindle support and commendations. Why wait until the tribute when the upper echelon is safe in her palace if not to unleash onto the streets half vampires who will cause the chaos she needs to gain the favor of those people of importance?”
Where else indeed.
53FLICK
Though the night was cool, Flick was anything but. She had stepped free of the bunker, but still saw the trembling shoulders of the kidnapped girls and boys. She saw Arthie covered in blood. The very smell of the bunker—a little damp, a little earthy—made her limbs throb as if she were trapped inside that room again.
She took a fortifying breath and turned to the guests loitering in the gardens. Flick knew some of them from debutant balls, others from meetings with Lady Linden. None of them paid Flick any attention, and she was intent on keeping it that way.
She wished she had been able to forge those invites for Arthie, but she was surprised to find two of the lords she had wanted to invite stepping through the gates.Strange. Why would the Ram invite people she disliked to a vicennial? Then again, the Ram didn’t know Arthie planned to unmask her.
The palace loomed, stunning even beneath the moonlight. It was nowhere near the dark opulence of the Athereum. Where the vampire society was sultry and sensuous in comparison, the palace stood sinister. As if evil was what held the bricks together. The suffering of others, from the vampires of White Roaring to the colonies across the sea.
Flick had never seen the inside of the palace, despite her mother wearing the mask of Ettenia. Family rarely had a place in the monarchy when the identity of their rulers was a secret.
With Laith and Jin, Flick had escorted the captives to one of the Athereum carriages, thankful for the darkness that shielded them from view. Flick didn’t want to let them go on their own, but Sidharth assured them the driver would escort them himself to the Horned Guard headquarters.
There was always the concern that the guards wouldn’t believe the voice of the victims, but once the crew unmasked the Ram and bared her sins to the capital’s elite and the Council alike, the Horned Guard would understand. Flick and Jin would go there themselves and ensure it after, if they had to.
