Page 112 of The Star's Sword

“Well, I know how it’s going to go,” I said.

“Yes, but it’s my trial next,” Simon said. “She doesn’t get two in a row.” He grinned. “And if I’ve planned things right, we will only need the one.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “But the third?”

“Oh, and we’re only doing two today, and one tomorrow, so there’s time for a revelry tonight. Who do you want to invite?”

I looked over at the vampires passing out the voting ballots. “What a thing to ask right now, Simon.”

“No time like the present?” he asked. “Anyway, think on it. Also, you need to feed me. Oh look, I think they’re almost done collecting votes. I better go help for a moment.” He started over, then winced, holding his arm. “You know, I think I’ll just be sitting.”

“What on earth happened?” I asked.

“You know I’m nothing without my mystery, Cleo,” Simon said, refusing to answer my question. “Let me keep a few secrets.”

I stared at the bandage. “It’s not very subtle.”

“Well, the meat was torn from the bone, and I’m not a celestial, so healing does take some time.” He looked at it. “Maybe I’ll see Zadis after this for some healing serum. Or at the revelry.”

I laughed. “Incorrigible vampire,” I said. I glanced at his arm again. “You just stay safe.”

Cayne had made his way over to us, just as Mark and several other vampires came back, holding piles of marked paper. They moved over to a stone table to sort them out.

“Of course. A vote. The mob asks for a vote,” Cayne said, shaking his head. “Brainwashed idiots.” He sighed. “Popularity doesn’t win battles. Diplomats are rarely good fighters.”

“It doesn’t matter if she’s good,” Simon said. “It matters if she makes them look good and does what they want. That’s all they care about. Being right. Ego. Who cares if others are hurt?” He narrowed his eyes to red slits. “I don’t need vampires like that around.”

I slitted him a side look. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said innocently. “Anyway, I’m off to check the counts. And then I’ll be back to suggest my trial.” He strode off, and Cayne moved forward to talk to me.

“The next trial should involve combat, knowing Simon.”

I nodded, dreading the results of the popularity tally.

When Mark walked forward to announce it, it was worse than I’d even thought.

“Vasara, eight hundred and ninety-two,” Mark said. “And for Cleo, zero.”

Only common vampires had been allowed to vote in this trial. Elder vampires as high in the ranks as Mark and Simon had stayed out.

Hurt moved through me, for all the times I’d given blood and talked to the vampires below ground.

For how hard I’d tried. Only to save the lives of people who were now helping someone who wanted to prevent my rise and hurt those close to me.

I closed my eyes in pain, trying to just push through the frustration of it. The unfairness.

“I’m sorry, Cleo,” Mark said, as the crowd broke into cheers.

Vasara walked over to hold her hands up, basking in their admiration, her gold hair shining in the sun.

“Vasara! Miracles!”

She walked over to where I was standing, just a forcefield away from Cayne. She eyed him. “Barbarian, hm?” She moved forward. “First thing I’m going to do when I win is see you tied to a chair, at my mercy.”

Cayne just threw back his head, laughing at her. “I’d bite your tongue off, you disgusting bitch.” He laughed again. “Cleo, you should let her tie me. I’ll show you how to escape bonds while bloodily murdering your captor.”

“Vasara, why are you talking to him?” a vampire yelled, as the crowd began to murmur. “He killed our friends!”

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