Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
The council chamber Nadi vaguely remembered from her youth had been transformed into something between a banquet hall and an execution ground.
Nadi was dragged through the doors by two guards who seemed to take a particular pleasure in making the journey as uncomfortable as possible.
Her wrists ached from the cuffs, and her body still bore the bruises from their earlier treatment.
But none of that compared to the cold dread that settled in her stomach when she saw what awaited them.
Long tables had been arranged in a horseshoe pattern, draped in cloth that might once have been fine but now showed the wear of years underground. Candles flickered in mismatched holders—some elegant brass, others crude clay—casting dancing shadows across the faces of the assembled fae elders.
And there were many faces to cast shadows upon.
Nadi counted at least thirty true-blooded fae seated at the tables, representing clans she recognized and some she didn’t.
The Thessal were there, their amber eyes gleaming with barely concealed hostility.
The Morvani sat in a cluster near the far end, their pale features made paler still by the candlelight.
Even a handful of Lesti had made the journey from the far plains of the Wilds of Runne, one of the few fae clans who lived “topside,” their characteristic metallic silver hair marking them as clearly as banners.
Not a single human was present in the room. Not because they were banned—probably because of Raziel and his gift, she suspected.
At the head of the horseshoe, in a chair that looked like it had been salvaged from some long-dead human aristocrat’s estate, sat Grandmother Ebiti.
The bark-like texture of her skin seemed even more pronounced in the flickering light, and her green eyes tracked Nadi’s entrance with the cold calculation of a predator watching wounded prey.
Beside her stood Kalo, his silver eyes bright with something that might have been anticipation.
The guards shoved Nadi to her knees in the center of the open space, directly before Ebiti’s elevated seat. A moment later, more guards dragged Raziel in behind her.
He looked worse than before—if that was even possible.
The silver stake had been removed from his leg at some point, but the wound still gaped, blackened and weeping that corrupted blood she’d come to recognize as a sign of severe silver poisoning.
His jaw was still clearly broken, bruised a terrible color.
New wounds decorated his torso, visible through tears in what remained of his shirt.
They’d worked him over again in the short time since she’d last seen him.
He was forced to his knees beside her, chains rattling as the guards secured him to iron rings set into the floor. Whatever this chamber had previously been used for, it had clearly hosted prisoners before.
“Welcome, honored elders,” Ebiti’s scratchy voice cut through the murmur of conversation. “To this historic gathering.”
The assembled fae fell silent, turning their attention to the old woman.
“Tonight, we feast,” Ebiti continued, gesturing at the tables laden with food and drink. “Tonight, we decide the future of our people. And at last—” her pointed teeth gleamed in what might have been a smile “—we deal with the matter of these two criminals.”
A ripple of interest passed through the crowd. Nadi felt their eyes on her—curious, hostile, hungry. These were the leaders of what remained of the fae clans, and they had gathered to watch her die.
“But that business can wait until we’ve had our fill,” Ebiti waved a gnarled hand dismissively. “Let them kneel and contemplate their fate while we enjoy ourselves. Eat! Drink! This is a celebration, after all.”
Servants began moving between the tables, pouring wine and serving dishes that smelled far better than anything Nadi had eaten in weeks. The contrast was almost cruel—the abundance before them while she and Raziel knelt in chains, battered and broken.
Nadi’s knees ached against the cold stone floor. Beside her, Raziel was utterly still—conserving what little strength he had left, she assumed. His breathing was shallow, labored. Every few moments, a tremor would run through him that he couldn’t quite suppress.
The conversations around them grew louder as wine flowed and tongues loosened. Nadi listened, filing away every scrap of information she could gather. Old habits died hard, even when death itself was imminent.
“—heard Lilivra’s finally crawled out of whatever hole she’s been hiding in,” one of the Thessal elders was saying, his voice carrying clearly in the stone chamber. “They say she’s helping the remaining Nostrom brats consolidate their power.”
“The original vampire herself.” A Morvani woman shook her head, her pale features twisted in disgust. “After all these centuries. What could have drawn her out now?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The Thessal gestured vaguely toward Nadi and Raziel. “The Serpent’s little rebellion. His siblings needed all the help they could get to deal with the chaos he caused.”
“I heard she’s ruling the city through Mael and Lana now,” another voice chimed in. “Pulling their strings from behind her silk curtains.”
Nadi filed that information away, for what good it’d do her. Lilivra, active and involved. That was… troubling. The ancient vampire had been content to let her descendants fight among themselves for generations. If she was taking a direct hand now, something had changed. Something significant.
Kalo’s voice cut through the chatter, sharp and clear. “You’re all so focused on the vampires above that you’re missing the threat closer to home.”
Several heads turned in his direction. Ebiti’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing.
“The Rosovs,” Kalo continued, pacing along the edge of the tables. “They’re not just buying fae from the surface anymore. They’re infiltrating our clans. Turning us against each other. Playing us like pieces on a game board.”
“Rumors,” one of the Lesti dismissed with a wave. “Paranoid speculation.”
“Is it?” Kalo stopped, fixing the elder with his silver stare.
“The Thessal and the Morvani have been at each other’s throats for the past year.
The Vareshi clan was wiped out entirely—supposedly by wild creatures, but we all know that’s horseshit.
And now half the remaining clans won’t even sit at the same table without armed guards between them. ”
“Enough, Kalo.” Ebiti’s voice was sharp. “You speak of things you don’t understand.”
“Do I?” He turned to face her, and Nadi caught something in his expression—frustration, rage. “You’ve been dealing with the Rosovs for decades, Grandmother. How much of what’s happened to our people is because of that partnership?”
The chamber went very quiet.
Ebiti’s green eyes went cold. “You forget yourself, boy.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything.” But Kalo’s voice had lost some of its edge. He glanced around at the assembled elders, reading their expressions, and whatever he saw there made him step back. “My apologies, Grandmother. The stress of recent events has made me… hasty.”
Ebiti scoffed, waving her hand dismissively.
“We all know these rumors and speculations are true. I have been dealing with them, yes. The Rosovs are our allies. They’ve been our allies for generations.
Whatever conflicts exist between the clans are our own doing—our own petty grievances and ancient feuds.
Don’t blame our weakness on outsiders when the fault lies within. ”
Nadi watched the exchange with growing unease. There was something there—some tension between Kalo and Ebiti that went beyond their current disagreement. And Kalo’s words about the Rosovs… they aligned uncomfortably well with things she’d observed herself.
But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Ebiti was rising from her chair, clapping her gnarled hands together to command attention.
“Enough politics for now. We have more pressing entertainment.” Her pointed teeth flashed in a predatory grin. “The trial of the traitor and her vampire pet. And more importantly, the opportunity this affords us!”
The assembled elders turned their attention to Nadi and Raziel, and she felt the weight of their judgment like a physical force. These were her people—what remained of them. And they looked at her with nothing but contempt.
“Nadi Iltani,” Ebiti pronounced the name like a curse. “Last fae blood of her line. Traitor to her people. Murderer of her own family.” She gestured at Raziel. “And this—the Serpent himself. Raziel Nostrom. Butcher. Monster. The architect of more fae deaths than any vampire in living memory.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Nadi kept her eyes forward, her expression carefully blank. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her fear.
“The charges against them are clear,” Ebiti continued. “Treason. Murder. The penalty is death.” She paused, savoring the moment. “But in the spirit of the old laws, we will allow the accused to speak before sentence is carried out.”
Nadi opened her mouth, ready to defend herself, to plead her case, to do something—
“Not you,” Ebiti cut her off with a sharp gesture. “I’ve heard enough of your excuses. No—I want to hear from the vuampi first. Let the Serpent speak his final words.”
Every eye in the room turned to Raziel.
He hadn’t moved. Hadn’t reacted to any of Ebiti’s pronouncements. He knelt there in his chains, head bowed, looking for all the world like a broken thing waiting to be put out of its misery.
“Well?” Ebiti’s voice dripped with contempt. “Has the great Serpent nothing to say? No grand speeches? No clever manipulations? How disappointing.”
Slowly—so slowly—Raziel raised his head.
His crimson eyes swept across the chamber, taking in every face, every detail. And then, despite the broken jaw, despite the wounds, despite everything—
He smiled.
“Stop moving.”
Two words. Spoken clearly, calmly, with perfect diction despite the damage to his face.
And the world stopped.