Chapter 22
Cristian
Ezra was in the kitchen, humming to himself as if he hadn’t spent years assisting tyrants in tracking, binding, and disposing of anyone the court found inconvenient.
Mortals had an impressive talent for pretending their sins were clerical work.
Before I dealt with him, I poured a glass of water and set it by Nadia’s chair. She had been pale earlier. Pale did not suit her. Color did. Life did.
I turned to Ezra. “Ezra, we need to talk.”
He didn’t bother looking up from his laptop. “You mean you need to talk. I’m more of a listening guy.”
“Then listen well. This will not be repeated.”
He finally lifted his eyes, already wearing that insufferable smirk. “Do you always talk like that, or am I just special?”
I didn’t answer.
Footsteps sounded behind me. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Lena came down the stairs wrapped in a blanket, looking both tired and suspicious. She took a seat next to Nadia, whose arm brushed hers.
“What’s going on?” Lena asked.
Before I spoke, Ezra cut in. “If it’s happening in the house, it concerns her.”
I exhaled slowly through my nose. “Very well. It concerns all of us. Sit.”
Ezra didn’t move. I stepped forward—only once, only enough.
He sat immediately. “Fine, man. Ask whatever.”
“You have been careless with your tongue,” I said.
“Telling Nadia that killing my brother would be acceptable. Implying I am draining too much blood, that I am harming her? I will not stand for that. I will do everything I can to keep her safe. My actions will speak for themselves. I would never intentionally harm her. And as for my brother—leave that matter to me. I will decide what must be done, and you will not be privy to the details.”
Ezra leaned back in his stool. “Maybe I’m taking Nadia’s safety more seriously than you are.”
“Oh boy,” Lena whispered.
Ezra continued, entirely too confident. “If killing every member of the Sovereign Court—including your brother—is what it takes to keep Nadia and Lena alive, maybe you need to get over your family loyalty and get on board.”
My vision narrowed. My jaw tightened. The room seemed to hold its breath.
Nadia stepped beside me—close, but not touching—her presence a quiet plea for restraint.
I remembered what she said upstairs. In through the nose. Out through the century-long grudge.
I inhaled once. “If it comes to choosing between her safety and his life,” I said quietly, “you may be surprised which I choose.”
Ezra’s smugness faltered.
The truth settled heavily on my tongue. Cassian had betrayed me. He had played a part in putting me in stasis. He had stood by while they drained me of life-force. But I would not wish him dead.
Not yet. The finality of it… I wasn’t ready.
But for Nadia? For her, I would burn entire kingdoms to ash if that is what it took.
“Fine,” I continued. “You claim to care about her safety. Then prove it. You lived with the Sovereign Court for years. What do they want? Truly. It cannot only be my power.”
Ezra hesitated. “Well…”
He spun his laptop toward us. The screen showed a map of Boston littered with glowing points.
“This is every magical signature in the city. They’re tracking all supernatural activity with enchanted CCTV. Every spike, every spell, every anomaly.”
Lena cursed under her breath. “That’s insane.”
“And the bond I share with Nadia? Do you have any idea how to break it?”
Ezra went still. For the first time since meeting him, he looked nervous. “I thought those bonds were permanent,” he said. “Unbreakable. It’s just… rare, that’s all.”
His voice wavered. Sweat gathered at his temple.
“Why does that make you uneasy?” I asked.
He pushed his glasses up his nose too quickly. “It doesn’t. Anyway—there’s something else.”
He pulled up another file. A black and gold invitation gleamed across the screen.
The Masquerade of the Celestials
For beings of ancient lineage and supernatural refinement.
Before I could respond, a sharp beeping interrupted us.
Ezra looked at his computer. “Ward alert. Someone’s at the door.”
“Who?” Nadia asked.
Ezra tapped a key. “Human.”
I turned toward the foyer. “Stay here.”
The air outside was cold and damp. An empty bottle of wine sat on the doorstep, etched with my name. Inside lay a rolled paper.
I uncorked the bottle and slid it out. The script shimmered faintly, unmistakable.
Lord Cristian D’Archeval,
You are cordially invited to our Masquerade.
We do so love reunions.
I carried it back to the kitchen.
“This,” I said, holding up the bottle, “is from the Sovereign Court. They’re taunting me.”
Nadia’s eyes flicked to mine—equal parts fear, frustration, and trust. That last part undid me more than any threat from the court ever could.
Nadia frowned. “Why a wine bottle?”
I met her eyes. “Because the last time I drank with them, they poisoned me.”
Lena swallowed. “Wow. Subtle.”
Ezra gave a low whistle. “Guess the RSVP is mandatory.”
I turned the invitation over in my hand, already feeling the trap forming around us. “They want me to come,” I said. “And that means they’re afraid I won’t.”
The arrogance of the Sovereign Court never ceased to amaze me. They could not kill me. They would not bind me again.
The bottle sat on the counter, the gold seal glinting in the kitchen light. I could almost hear their laughter behind it. A masquerade. How fitting. A celebration of masks and lies.
“It’s obviously a trap,” I said.
Ezra snorted. “Yeah, no shit.”
I ignored him. “But it’s a trap I intend to walk into.”
Nadia’s head snapped toward me. “I’m sorry, you’re going to do what?”
I crossed my arms. “If they want to parade me as their victory, they will regret the invitation. It’s time they remember what I am.”
Her brow furrowed. “And what’s that, exactly?”
“One of the most feared beings this world has ever known.”
Ezra muttered, “You sound like you’re fun at parties.”
I continued, unbothered. “It will also allow me to observe the current magical landscape. There may be allies… or at the very least, individuals who know about breaking the bond.”
At that, Nadia’s eyes softened. “You really think someone there might know how?”
“I think it is possible,” I said. “It has to be. The Sovereign Court feeds on control. Secrets are like currency to them. If the knowledge exists, it will be in their orbit.”
She frowned. “So… you’re just going to show up? To their fancy death party?”
I almost smiled. “Not without a plan.”
Her lips pressed together in a thin line. “I’m scared to ask what that means.”
“I would go alone,” I said, “but the bond makes that impossible. The distance, the separation… It would drive us both to madness before the night was through.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “So, I have to go too.”
“Yes.” I met her gaze, unflinching. “And you will stay by my side. At all times. They will attempt to isolate you. They may even try to take you. But I will not allow that.”
Nadia swallowed hard. “Okay, see, when you say things like that, it freaks me the fuck out.”
“I am merely being honest,” I said. “You have my word—I can protect you. You only need to stay near me and not wander off. This has to be done in order to find a way to break the bond… otherwise I would not risk it.”
“That’s the whole plan?” she asked. “You babysit me while getting a feel for supernatural Boston?”
That earned a low laugh from me.
“We enter as if we belong there,” I said. “You let me speak. We gather information, observe, listen. And when the Sovereign Court approaches us—and they will—you remain calm. We will act as guests, not prey.”
She gaped at me. “That’s it? Act cool and don’t die?”
“That is the essence of survival,” I said.
Nadia exhaled, tension curling through her posture. Then she gave a small, crooked smile. “Well, if I’m going to risk my life, I guess a free masquerade ball is a decent setting. Will there be booze?”
“Of course,” I said.
She tried to grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Good. Because I’m going to need a drink. Or ten.” She turned, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m not feeling great. I didn’t sleep well last night, so I’m going to take a nap before we start planning our entrance into Vampire Hell.”
I inclined my head. “Rest, then. You’ll need your strength.”
She gave a small wave and disappeared down the hall. I stayed where I was, watching the spot she’d left behind.
The silence felt wrong. Too still.
Her energy—the light that filled every corner of this house—was dimming. She’d grown quieter. Slower. It unsettled me more than I cared to admit. My stomach churned with unease. Was this normal for mortals? To have fluctuations in their health? I couldn’t remember. But I did not like it.
The bond between us pulsed faintly in my chest, unsteady and tired, mirroring her.
Something was wrong.