She was Cezar’s greatest fear? How had she never known that?
What could that mean?
Sonia Woodmore had to be mistaken. Her Sight had to be wrong.
How could Cezar fear her when he’d had her under his control all of the time?
Narcise was just passing the door to some parlor or chamber when she heard Chas’s voice. “Of course we’re not going to tell Narcise. She might agree to it.” She froze.
“Do you think that’s wise?” replied a mellow voice that she was certain belonged to Voss. “Perhaps she—”
“You aren’t going to tell me what?” she demanded, flinging the door open. “Did you not learn anything?” she added, her voice cold as she stared at Chas.
Of the five people in the room, four faces had turned to her, and she realized with a horrid start that the fifth person was not staring at her at all because it was Giordan. He was looking down, even as the rest of the occupants of the room stared in chagrin.
And she dared not look at him, not when she knew where he’d been and what he’d been doing…not when his bloodscent lingered in the air. Not when her mouth watered at the aroma of it, and when she remembered the feel of his body against hers…only hours ago.
Instead she focused on Chas, whose countenance had gone tight with dismay. He rose from his seat. “Come in, Narcise. Apparently you are going to be told the news.”
Aside of Chas and Giordan, Dimitri was in the chamber, of course, as well as Voss. And, to Narcise’s mild surprise, Maia Woodmore was there as well, sitting next to Dimitri on a sofa. Much closer than was proper for a ward to be sitting next to her guardian.
Unlike her younger sister Angelica’s had been when they met in Dimitri’s study some months ago, Maia’s expression when she looked at Narcise was not one of accusation nor of distaste. It was only mildly curious and laced with concern.
“And so all of you are discussing me, and I’m not invited to the conversation?” Narcise said, looking for a safe place to sit. Chas gestured to the chair he’d just vacated, but she ignored him.
Giordan was in a different seat off to the right, and Voss was in a chair next to Dimitri. There was a space on the sofa next to Maia, and that was where Narcise went. She sat, her back rigid as she tried to keep her thoughts from colliding with each other and her mind clear.
“We’ve received a message from your brother,” said Dimitri. “I thought it best if we informed Chas immediately.”
“I said you should be told,” Maia said to Narcise. “I would want to know if my brother was doing something like this.” She slanted a sidewise glance at Chas and gave a little sniff.
“Maia,” Dimitri said, giving her a mildly exasperated look—mild for him, anyway—and said to Narcise, “The message arrived at Blackmont Hall earlier today via blood pigeon.”
Taking care not to glance at Giordan, who sat just beyond Dimitri, Narcise turned her full attention to the formidable earl. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw the blood staining Giordan’s white shirt, and the elegant shape of his wrist, settled casually on the arm of his chair. “Are you going to tell me what the message contained?”
“Napoleon Bonaparte is going to invade England in three days,” he replied with characteristic bluntness. “And your brother promises to send his own army of made vampires with the emperor’s mortal soldiers, to wreak havoc on this country.”
“He said they’d find the children,” Maia Woodmore added, her delicate face grave. “And take them.”
“Maia,” Dimitri snapped. “Blast it, I should have left you home.”
“Then I would have just found the way on my own, Gavril,” she replied. “At least we only needed one carriage this way.”
“You promised you wouldn’t interfere,” Dimitri said from between clenched teeth.
“I did nothing of the sort. You demanded I promise that, but I certainly didn’t. If I weren’t here, none of you would tell Narcise the whole of it,” the woman returned. “How can she make a decision without knowing all of it?”
“A decision?” said Narcise. “What sort of decision?” Her heart was pounding now and she felt an unpleasant twisting in her middle.
“About whether you’ll go back to him,” said Giordan, breaking his silence.
Quiet descended over the chamber.
“Narcise,” Chas said after a moment. “You can understand why we thought not to tell you.”
“No,” she replied through stiff lips. Giordan had shifted in his chair, and now he was looking at Chas. “No, I do not. What did you intend to do about it, since you didn’t plan to tell me?”
“That’s what we were discussing when you made that most dramatic entrance,” replied Voss with a lazy smile. “I know Cezar well enough, but since you know him best of all, perhaps you might have a suggestion. He promises to call off the emperor’s invasion if you return to him.”
Narcise shook her head, her thoughts whirling. Go back? Go back to Cezar? Never. But her heart was pounding and her stomach twisted nauseatingly. France’s invasion didn’t really matter to her—or to any Dracule—insofar as power was concerned.
But there were vampirs involved, and Cezar would ensure that there would be children as victims…as well as others. Children. If she agreed to go back, they’d be saved. She did believe Cezar would keep his word about that. He’d done so in the past, for he knew therein lay his power over her.
But to go back… She shuddered. No.
“I’ll go to Paris,” Chas said flatly. “I can get in to see him—”
“No, Chas,” Maia interrupted. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Be still, Maia,” her brother snapped, and received a warning glare from Dimitri.
“And you attempting to kill Moldavi wouldn’t necessarily stop Napoleon,” Voss added. “Although—”
“Attempting to kill him?” Chas echoed. His voice was sharp. “A poor choice of word—”
“Cezar could stop him if he wanted,” Narcise said slowly. “He’s got the new emperor under his thrall.”
“It does seem more than a bit convenient that Bonaparte has been sitting for months with his army ready to cross the Channel at any moment…and now Moldavi claims he will invade at last,” Dimitri mused. “I’m inclined to believe that your brother,” he said, looking at Narcise, “is indeed behind all of this.”
“And if he’s influencing Bonaparte to invade, then he can stop him as well,” Narcise said. And her Mark panged sharply…because she was thinking about what it would be like to return to Cezar. To put herself back under his control.
A little shiver caught her by surprise—a ripple of fear and trepidation—but then she remembered Sonia’s vision. I’m his greatest fear. How can that be? And how could I use that?
It made her stronger. She could go to Cezar knowing that. And if he feared her, then it gave her the chance to destroy him.
If it were on her terms…
Narcise’s heart began to pound harder. Could she actually go back there? She remembered the comforting feel of the saber…the way Cezar’s eyes lit on her, with both delight and hate.
Another shiver started in her belly. It could be true. She could be his greatest fear.
“You aren’t considering going,” Chas said, breaking the silence. “Narcise.” His voice was strung tightly and she saw the fear in his eyes.
But it was the weight of Giordan’s stare that she felt the most. Heavy, silent, dark…resting on her like a boulder.
“He fears me,” she said, thinking aloud. “He fears me more than anything in the world.”
The twinge that had begun to inflame her shoulder eased a bit more. She had power.
“But how will that help you?” Chas said, his voice low, as if he were fighting to keep it so. “Once you’re back there with him, you’re under his control. In that place. He’s got damned feathers everywhere, Narcise.”