‘“Waiting for me.”
‘“At home?”
‘“Where else would they be?”
‘“If they’re at home, why are you here?”
‘“I know a king who needs killing.”
‘“… Voss?”
‘“Voss,” I hissed, the name like poison on my tongue. “Once Dior is in San Michon, I head east to take that whoreson’s head. To end this once and for all.”
‘Aaron stepped between me and the wheel so that I’d be forced to meet his eyes. “Gabe, Fabién Voss sits at the heart of a legion ten thousand strong. The greatest armies and generals in the empire have fallen back or simply fallen before him. No man of woman born can slay the Forever King. You know this. It’s madness. It’s suicide even to try.”
‘“And yet, here I am.”
‘“… Is that what you want? To die? What about your famille?” He reached for my arm, seizing tight. “Gabriel, look at me. Where are they? Why did you leave them?”
‘“Let it alone, brother,” I growled.
‘“Gabe—”
‘“Let it alone!” I bellowed, slapping his hand away. Grabbing his coat, I slammed him against the altar, my face inches from his. “You want to huddle here in your crumbling halls until the end comes, so be it! You want to waste your life praying to a God who doesn’t care, as you like it! But I’ll not hide in the dark for fear of sleep, nor sing the praise of a bastard who’d call himself Lord of an earth such as this! By my hand, Fabién Voss will die! By my blood, by my soul – not by your fucking God – I vow it!”
‘“I love you, Gabriel,” Aaron said low, deadly. “But take your hands off me.”
‘That predator’s gleam, that old gift of the Ilon stirring in his veins. Paleblood, through and through. And I let him go, ashamed at myself, at all I was and had become. I couldn’t bear to look at him, staring at my hands instead as I whispered.
‘“Forgive me.”
‘“Brother, there is nothing to forgive,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “I know you speak from hurt, and though I fear the cause, I’ll not add to it by asking for its name. I’ll not tell you what to believe, either. Each man’s heart is his own, and in the end, only he has the filling of it. But I tell you this, and if never you have listened to me before, by all the love you bear for me, I beg you listen now. Because I see a shadow on you, brother. And I am afraid.”
‘He took my hand, squeezing tight as he searched my eyes.
‘“It matters not what you hold faith in. But you must hold faith in something.”
‘I met his gaze, the truth fighting behind my teeth.
‘To speak it would make it real.
‘To speak it would be to live it again.
‘“The Worst Day,” I whispered.
‘A chill clanging split the air, brittle and sharp, metal on metal. The spell between us broke, Aaron’s pupils dilating as the song grew more fevered. And through the rushing in my ears, the echo of my brother’s words, I realized at last what I was hearing.
‘Aaron looked to me, jaw clenched. “Alarm bells.”
‘I glanced to the Redeemer hanging on his lopsided wheel, and then to the night awaiting us outside. Hissing through sharpening teeth.
‘“Danton.”’
XVI
LORD OF CARRION
‘THE GREAT HALL was emptying as Aaron and I rushed from the chapel. The merrymakers, the minstrels, young and old – all were making their way through the torchlit dark to the ch?teau gates. I saw Baptiste among the throng, and Aaron and I pushed our way to his side. Men and women were gathering arms, the bells still ringing on the outer walls, a great multitude now trekking down the winding road to the mont’s base. I looked for Dior among them, even calling her name, but I couldn’t see her anywhere.
‘We reached the outer walls of Aveléne, and I followed Aaron up onto the battlements. The bells ceased their ringing as he and Baptiste arrived. Watchmen saluted the pair briskly, nodding, “Capitaine.” I could see their loyalty to Aaron was fierce and true, that they loved him to a man, no matter who he loved in his turn. But I could also feel a sliver of fear among them. And squinting through the bitter-bleak snows to the edge of the torchlight off Aveléne’s walls, I could find no way to fault them.
‘The Beast of Vellene stood in the road. He was clothed all in black, his duellist’s cloak whipping about him in a wind that seemed to moan all the louder as it touched him. His eyes were darker than the night above, his skin so pale it gleamed like pearl. Any who looked on him, prince or pauper or poet, would know him for what he was: a lord of carrion, heavy with centuries, crowned with menace and malice. And the sight of him cleaved all but the boldest heart with despair.
‘Danton stepped forward, his flint-black gaze roaming the walls. Men quailed as he looked upon them, women trembled, the chill of him like a knife in their minds. His eyes fell on me, and a smile, cold and pale and sharp, curled his ruby lips.
‘“Where be the lord of this … hovel?” he asked. “I would treat with him.”
‘Aaron stepped forward, golden hair blowing in the wind. “I am he.”
‘Danton’s gaze fell on my friend, and I saw Aaron grit his teeth, fangs bared. I felt the air crackling between them; a battle of wills, ancien versus paleblood born. And at the last, I saw Danton’s smile grow sour.
‘“Who art thou, mortal?”
‘Aaron took off his glove, held up the sevenstar on his palm, now burning with a pale and fierce light. “A mortal, oui,” he answered. “But no mortal’s son. My name is Aaron de Coste, son of House Coste and the Blood Ilon, and my mind is not yours for the plundering. I have been slaying your kind since I was but a boy, and I am a boy no longer. Now speak your piece and be done, vampire. My dinner is getting cold.”
‘“De Coste?” Danton gave a small bow. “Well met, monsieur. ’Tis rare to find folk of breeding so far west these nights. Please accept my condolences upon the fall of thy home, thy famille, thy legacy entire.”
‘“This is my famille,” Aaron said, waving to folk on the walls. “And my home. You come to its gate with empty hands and liar’s tongue. What do you want, Voss?”
‘“Dior Lachance.”
‘“Then I fear you’ve come a long way for a longer wait.” Aaron placed one hand on the hilt of his sword. “Like all within these walls, the girl is under my protection.”
‘“Girl?” Realization dawned, and a flicker of dark delight glittered in Danton’s eyes as he glanced at me. “Oh, de León, thou art not destined to lose an—”
‘“Speak not to him,” Aaron spat. “You treat with me. If you call this display of beggary treating, that is.”
‘“Beggar thou wouldst name me?”
‘“Beggar?” Aaron shook his head. “No. Louse, I name you. Worm. Leech. A parasite, grown fat and foolish enough to stand alone before my walls and beg anything of me. I was there at the Twins the day your sister died, Voss. I heard the music of her screams. And I’ve a will now, to see if I can make you sing as sweet.”