Chapter 4 #2
Volencia Nostrom sat at the head of the table, resplendent in a gown of midnight-blue velvet that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
Her silver-streaked black hair was piled atop her head in an elaborate arrangement secured with jeweled pins that glinted when she moved.
Everything about her exuded power and control.
To her right sat Mael, uncharacteristically solemn, his massive frame somehow seeming smaller, hunched, as though he were trying to hide from the seriousness of the situation.
To her left was Lana, who couldn’t quite hide the smugness in her expression.
Farther down the table, Azazel lounged with practiced indifference that didn’t quite mask his interest in the proceedings.
And beside Nadi, unnervingly still, sat Raziel.
The silence stretched for what had seemed like an agonizing two minutes since they’d all been seated. No one touched the first course laid out before them. No one spoke. Nadi could feel the weight of Volencia’s gaze like a physical thing, assessing, calculating.
“I suppose,” Volencia finally said, her voice cool and precise, “we should discuss the hideous elephant in the room.”
Nadi fought the urge to laugh. Hideous. Nice. She kept her posture demure, her shoulders slightly hunched—precisely how Monica would behave in such intimidating company.
“You’ve made quite a mess of things as usual, haven’t you, Raziel?” Volencia continued, sipping from a crystal goblet filled with blood and wine. “The Valan arrangement was explicit. The girl was to be sacrificed according to tradition. Yet here she sits—not only alive but turned. You abject fool.”
Raziel’s face remained impassive. “Things change, Mother.”
“Things change when I decide they change,” Volencia snapped, setting down her glass with enough force that the bloodwine sloshed dangerously close to the rim.
“Your disobedience has cost us dearly in political capital. The Rosovs are already making advances on our territory in the lower districts, citing our ‘inability to honor traditional contracts’ as justification. Even the Toths are acting out of line. The Toths! You have no honor. I sometimes wonder if you aren’t somehow a bastard, after all. ”
Nadi caught the subtle way Raziel’s jaw tightened, the only indication that his mother’s words had landed. She found herself fighting the unexpected urge to reach for his hand under the table.
“However,” Volencia continued, her gaze shifting to Nadi, “I understand your… wife… has manifested an unusual ability.”
Nadi lowered her eyes, playing the role of the intimidated newborn vampire. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Look at me when I address you, girl.”
Nadi raised her eyes, meeting Volencia’s cold stare. The matriarch studied her as one might study an insect under glass.
“Show me.”
Taking a steadying breath, Nadi allowed her form to shimmer and change, adopting Volencia’s appearance as precisely as possible—from the particular arch of her eyebrow to the way she held her shoulders. The transformation was perfect, in every detail.
“Fascinating,” Volencia—the real one—murmured, leaning forward slightly. “This is not mere illusion. You’ve replicated my form exactly.”
Nadi shifted back to Monica, allowing exhaustion to show on her face. “It… takes effort, ma’am.”
“I imagine it does.” Volencia sat back, tapping one long fingernail against the stem of her glass. “Well, this does change things. A shapeshifter in the family could prove useful. Particularly with the current political climate.”
“Mother, surely you’re not suggesting—” Lana began, but Volencia silenced her with a look.
“I’m suggesting nothing. I’m stating facts. Monica will be spared, not because she is Raziel’s bride, but because her abilities now represent an asset to this family.”
Mael cleared his throat. “The question remains of how we address the broken contract with the Valans.”
“Yes,” Volencia nodded. “Which is why I’ve called a full council meeting for tomorrow night.
All branches of the Nostrom clan will be present, and we will determine the best course of action.
” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Raziel.
“You and your wife will attend and accept whatever assignment the council deems appropriate to restore our standing.”
“Generous of you,” Raziel said, his voice carefully neutral.
“Generous indeed,” Volencia replied coolly. She gestured to the staff waiting by the walls. “You may serve the main course now.”
The staff moved silently around them, replacing the untouched first course with platters of rare meat and goblets of fresh blood. Nadi’s stomach turned at the sight, but she maintained her composure. Monica would be new to this diet, after all—some distaste would be expected.
“Before we begin,” Volencia said once the staff had retreated, “there is the matter of discipline.”
The tension in the room thickened.
“Mother,” Mael began, his gaze flicking to who he believed to be Monica, “perhaps this could wait until—”
“It will not wait,” Volencia cut him off. “Raziel’s actions have undermined our authority and endangered our position. There must be consequences.” She looked directly at Raziel. “Remove your clothing.”
Nadi’s head snapped up, certain she’d misheard.
“Mother—” Raziel started.
“Now.” The word cracked like a whip.
For a moment, Nadi thought he would refuse. There was a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes—a glimpse of the Serpent beneath the controlled exterior. But then, slowly, methodically, he stood and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Nadi watched in disbelief as Raziel stripped, piece by piece, his movements deliberate and unhurried. His face remained a mask of indifference, though she could see a muscle twitching in his jaw. When he was completely naked, he stood still, making no attempt to cover himself.
“On the floor,” Volencia commanded. “You’ll take your meal like the animal you’ve proven yourself to be. Nothing more than a disloyal mutt.”
Raziel’s eyes flickered briefly to Nadi before he lowered himself to the floor beside his chair. One of the servants approached with his plate, setting it on the ground before him.
“No hands,” Volencia added. “After all, dogs don’t have hands, do they?”
A small, triumphant smile played at Lana’s lips. Azazel watched with undisguised fascination. Mael’s expression had grown stormy, his eyes fixed on his own plate.
And Nadi? Nadi felt something dark and vicious unfurl in her chest as she watched Raziel bend to eat from the plate like a dog. She should have been delighted by his humiliation.
She should be rejoicing.
This was the man who had murdered her family, who had haunted her nightmares for eighty years. His degradation should have been sweet as honey.
Instead… she found herself gripping her knife with white knuckles, imagining how it would feel to drive it through Volencia’s eye socket. To wipe that smug smile off Lana’s face.
The vampiress she was impersonating wouldn’t dare show such rage.
She forced herself to relax her grip. Forced herself to breathe. Forced herself to relax. Nadi channeled it inward, letting the rage burn in her stomach as she swallowed down tiny bites of food that she couldn’t taste.
“Monica,” Volencia said suddenly. “You’re barely eating. Is something wrong with your meal?”
Nadi swallowed hard. “No, ma’am. The taste is different, is all. Everything is just—just new to me still.”
“Ah, yes. The transition can be difficult.” Volencia’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “But you’ll adjust.”
The rest of the meal passed in excruciating slowness. Nadi observed the family dynamics with careful attention. Volencia clearly ruled with an iron fist. Lana delighted in Raziel’s degradation, occasionally making little comments that dripped with disdain.
Mael, interestingly, seemed increasingly uncomfortable, his gaze frequently straying to Nadi as if measuring her reactions.
Throughout it all, Raziel remained silent and composed, even as he was forced to lap at his plate like an animal. The dignity he maintained in such circumstances was remarkable—and somehow made the spectacle all the more grotesque.
When the meal finally concluded, Volencia dismissed them without ceremony. “Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. Do not be late.”
As they rose to leave, Nadi automatically reached for Raziel’s clothes to hand them to him, but Volencia stopped her with a sharp “Leave them.”
Nadi froze, conflicted.
“It’s fine,” Raziel said quietly. “Go.”
She hesitated only a moment before following him out of the dining room, painfully aware of his naked form walking ahead of her. The staff they passed kept their eyes averted, clearly accustomed to the Nostrom family’s particular brand of cruelty.
They had nearly reached the foyer when Mael’s voice called after them.
“Monica? A moment.”
Raziel stopped, his back stiffening. Nadi turned to see Mael approaching, his expression unreadable.
“Before the meeting tomorrow night.” Mael had his gaze fixed on Nadi, ignoring Raziel almost pointedly. “I’d like to speak with you privately. There are matters concerning your new… position in the family that we should discuss.”
Nadi felt Raziel bristle beside her. “Whatever you have to say to my wife, you can say to me,” he said, his voice dangerously soft.
Mael’s golden eyes flicked briefly to his brother before returning to Nadi. “May I… may I schedule a private meeting with Monica? She has been tugged in different directions enough of late. I wish to speak to her about what it’s like to be a Nostrom. From perhaps a different perspective.”
“Of course,” Raziel echoed, the words dripping with venom. “Why would I ever not trust you, brother?”
Nadi placed a gentle hand on Raziel’s arm—a gesture that would seem comforting to observers but was actually intended to restrain. “It’s all right,” she said softly.
Something passed between the brothers—a silent battle of wills that Nadi couldn’t fully interpret.
“As you wish,” Raziel finally said. “May I at least be allowed to know where and when?”
“The Blue Terrace. Noon tomorrow,” Mael replied. “I’ll send a car.”
Nadi nodded, feeling under her hand tension vibrating in Raziel’s body. “I’ll be ready.”
Mael inclined his head, then glanced at his naked brother with something that might have been regret before turning and walking back toward the dining room.
As they stepped out into the night air, a servant appeared with a long peacoat for Raziel, which he donned in silence. Their car waited at the end of the drive, Ivan at the wheel.
Neither of them spoke during the ride back to Raziel’s estate.
Nadi stared out the window, mind racing through the implications of everything she’d witnessed.
She had expected to feel triumph at seeing Raziel brought low.
Instead, she felt only a deepening of the complicated emotions that had been tangling inside her since the night at the estate.
It wasn’t until they were alone in his bedroom, doors locked behind them, that Raziel finally broke the silence.
“Enjoy the show?” His voice was strained as he shrugged off the coat and headed for the bathroom.
Nadi hesitated, then followed him. “No,” she admitted. “I didn’t.”
He paused, hand on the shower door, surprise flickering across his features before he masked it. “I would have thought my humiliation would be the highlight of your evening.”
“I would have thought the same.”
Their eyes met in the mirror, and for a moment, neither spoke.
“Why did you agree to meet with Mael?” he asked finally.
“Information.” She shrugged. “The more I know about the dynamics between all of you, the better positioned we’ll be to take them down. Besides. Don’t you want to know what he’s up to?”
Raziel studied her reflection, as if searching for deception. “And if he offers you a better deal than I have?”
Nadi considered her answer carefully. “Then, I’ll weigh my options, just as you would in my position.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Fair enough, little murderer. Fair enough.” He opened the shower door. “Get some rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow’s performance.”
As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her one last time.
“Nadi.”
She looked back, meeting those unsettling red eyes.
“Remember who you’re dealing with. He’s not on your side. And remember whose side you’re on.”
That was the problem.
She was supposed to be on nobody’s side but her own.
And now?
She didn’t know if that was still the case.