Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
FIRE AND FURY
The building is old and crumbling, smelling of damp and the nearby river. The clocktower soaring above it is dark, the clock face tarnished and broken, its bell silent.
I don’t care.
I don’t care about much of anything, really. Apart from Michael.
I refused to go back to that underground room where my mother’s blood still stains the stones. I don’t care that it’s tradition, the place where Raven holds court in Old London. As far as I’m concerned, they can fill the whole place in like the grave it is.
My mother isn’t there, of course. Her body waits, shrouded in muslin, to be returned to the family estate for burial. My father hasn’t left her side. It would break my heart, if it wasn’t already shattered.
I asked if someone else could do this but apparently, as the crowned Raven, it’s up to me. I refused the sceptre when offered it, remembering it splashed with red, bright as the rubies adorning the Raven throne, brought here for today’s events.
I stand on a hastily assembled dais, the Raven crown heavy on my brow, Varin to my left, Bertrand behind me.
And in front a row of Raven guards, swords out, separating me from the assembled crowd.
Michael is to my right. If it wasn’t for him, I think I’d go down there and beg for someone to end this pain, to send me to join my mother.
A horrible way of thinking. I know it’s wrong, but I’m shattered and shredded, unable to pull myself back together.
Michael’s arms hold the broken bits into a semblance of Emelia, but the old me is gone, taken for ever in the sweep of a blade.
Tears threaten, and I shove them back. This Raven will not cry. Not here, anyway.
Bertrand’s hand comes to the small of my back, steadying me as I sway. There’s so little air in here. Michael glances over, his expression stern. I have to do this. For him, as much as anyone else.
I take a breath and blow it out. My fists clench. Then I step forward. The crowd, almost all of them dressed in black, sink to their knees in a rustle of fabric.
I resist the urge to smooth my palms down the front of my skirt. The black velvet feels heavy, almost stifling. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My mother was supposed to be with me. It’s like a wail in my mind, tears threatening again. I push them back.
‘We’re assembled here tonight to bear witness.’ My voice is clear and doesn’t tremble. ‘And judgement. Rise.’
The crowd obeys. I observe them as though from a distance, as though I’ve found a small safe space in which to hide while someone else does this for me.
‘All who are here witnessed the events of my coronation.’ A slight tremor.
Michael, Varin and Bertrand all move closer.
‘Raven is a family. One with close ties across the realm. There are names here tonight whose history goes back for more than a millennium. And others whose names, once spoken tonight, will never be heard again.’
Somebody sobs. I’m pretty sure I know who.
‘Ravenna.’ The sobs grow louder. I’ll ask Stella to leave if she doesn’t stop. ‘You stood with Mistral and, therefore, against your royal house of Raven. You are to be stripped of your name, confined to your estates in darkness, and—’
‘No!’ A roar of protest. Stella has a younger brother. Tough shit. I had a mother.
‘Be grateful you’re losing nothing more than that,’ I snap. ‘You’ll find no friends here to defend you, should I change my mind.’
The room is silent. Waiting.
‘Mistral.’ The word echoes through the space.
I try not to snarl, though several in the crowd respond that way.
‘Your line stands broken. No more will your name be held as part of Raven, no more will it be spoken. Your estates have been confiscated. And all who hold the name have been ended. Except one.’ Michael knows I’m doing this.
We spoke about it as he held me on the bed in the gatehouse, sunlight gilding his hair.
‘My lieutenant is the son of Mistral. Yet he holds no affiliation to that house, nor has he for many years. Silence!’ The word is a whip-crack, cutting through the murmuring in the room.
I turn my head. ‘Michael, approach.’
He comes to kneel before me. Varin moves, smooth and lethal, his blade hovering above Michael’s bowed head. The crowd’s silence changes, becoming heavy, like a held breath. I hate that I have to do this, so much. But it’s the only way I can keep him alive.
‘Do you disavow any association with the house of Mistral, darkened be their name?’ Gods, I just want to be done with all this. Just want to kiss him and tell him it’s all right.
‘I do.’ His voice is deep, strong. ‘I revoke their name, and everything to do with it.’
‘And do you give up your role as my lieutenant, and any future claim to it? Knowing that you stay alive only at my pleasure?’
‘I do.’
‘Then I give you one gift, Michael, in recognition of your flawless service. And in memory of my mother, who loved you like a son.’
His head comes up slightly. Varin’s stance remains rock solid, but his dark eyes are on me. Neither of them knew I was going to do this. I wasn’t even sure I was. But it feels so horrible, stripping everything from him in front of a crowd. I want him to have something back. He saved me, after all.
‘Henceforth, you’ll be known as Michael Raven. Do you accept?’
He lifts his head, and there’s so much love in his stormy eyes that I almost gasp.
‘I accept, your Grace. It’s an honour to bear your name.
’ He smiles, and my heart clenches in response.
He’s my light in the darkness, the one who risked it all for me, over and over.
The one who’ll help me change the world.
I don’t need him as my lieutenant to make that happen. I just need him.
I nod to Varin. He steps back, sheathing his sword. ‘Then let it be so.’
Michael gets to his feet, then bows, deeply. He takes a position to my right once more. I lift my chin, glaring at the gathered crowd.
‘I did not wish to start my reign with blood and darkness. But I will do what needs to be done, for the sake of this realm. Like it or not, I am now Raven.’ I let my lip curl. ‘If—’
The doors to the chamber fly open, crashing so hard against the walls that plaster rains down. Two figures stand in the doorway, holding a large chest between them. Both male, both armoured, both vampires. And both with the Scorpion crest on their layered breastplates.
Varin is already in front of me, sword out. Raven guards flash through the crowd, surrounding the two figures with a ring of silver and black. Everyone draws back, but no one leaves. I suppose they want to see whatever spectacle happens next, another disaster to gossip about. Fuck them all.
‘We wish to approach the throne.’
The entire room waits on my command. Do I kill them now, or wait to hear what they have to say? What kind of ruler do I want to be?
‘Let them come closer.’
The guards part to allow them passage, but stay close as the two warriors approach the throne with their bulky chest.
‘Stop,’ I say, when they reach halfway. I don’t really care what happens to me, but Michael is here, as well as Bertrand and Varin. ‘Check the chest.’
But before the guards can do so the two warriors tip it forward so that the hinged lid opens. A slurry of dark liquid pours out, along with a jumble of objects, hitting the ground with a wet splat.
‘Get out.’ Varin, his voice like death, starts forward, quick as a flash.
‘Varin, wait.’ He pauses, sword raised, at my command. I am so, so angry, dark rage rising as I walk down the steps, through the silent wondering crowd. ‘What the fuck is this?’ There’s a murmur at my expletive. I don’t care.
‘We bring a message,’ the warrior closest to me intones. ‘From the most high and brilliant Jang-mi. From the Scorpion to the Raven. She does not send greetings, nor does she offer wishes for a long and healthy reign. Instead, she wishes to remind you how easy it is.’
My skirts almost touch the spreading slurry of liquid and, now that I’m close, I can smell it. The smell of the charnel house. Of death. ‘Tell Jang-mi I do not accept her message,’ I say. ‘I’ve had enough of blood.’
I want to scream to the heavens at the insult.
I want to burn the whole fucking thing down and start again.
A small hand, severed at the wrist, lies in the pool of blood at my feet.
Along with a whole jumble of body parts.
Human. The message couldn’t be clearer. She wishes to remind you how easy it is.
‘Execute them,’ I say, turning away. ‘And send their heads back to Jang-mi.’ I don’t care what it means. I have to do something. To be humiliated like this, during my coronation week. It’s already a declaration of war.
There are screams, and light flares in the chamber. I turn.
The two Scorpion warriors are wearing bulky helmets, made of layered metal like their armour. Light, brilliant as sunshine, now leaks between the layers, smoke starting to rise. Every vampire in here is flattened against the walls, trying to avoid the dazzling streams of light. God and darkness.
The Scorpion warriors are burning themselves alive.
I stand there, ice in my heart, and watch them burn.