Why do I have to be here? Why?!
We passed ushers waiting with tall golden staffs to which banners were attached—eleven: one for each dimension, one for the humans, and another for me. Violet’s was absent. The breeze from the open doors was making each banner sway, sending a draft billowing down the scaffold tunnel of gold through which we were walking. My hair stirred, the loose strands lifting from the back of my neck and those that were pinned threatening to shake themselves from their pins.
Edmund anticipated my stumble before I even knew I was going to momentarily halt. His hand cupped my elbow and firmly ensured my progress forward and not right back under the banners, where the hopeful part of my heart was running.
“I can’t do it,” I muttered. “I can’t.”
“You have no choice.”
He pulled me into the room and Jo dutifully dropped back behind me.
I stifled a gasp. I had never seen a room like it.
The passage in the middle was long and lined with benches, upholstered with the same shade of pale blue as the carpet outside. Every so often there were armrests, gilded with gold, and in front a thin table ran, just wide enough to place a book. The benches ascended in rows, and around the walls ran a gallery full of yet more seating. The ceiling far above us was painted to resemble the sky on a bright day and the whole place was flooded with light filtered through stained-glass windows.
Along the curved wall, raised above the pew-like seating, was a row of high-backed wooden chairs, made comfortable with cushions rather than leather. There were about thirty of them in total, and in them sat the heads of state for each dimension and being: monarchs, regal and isolated; presidents and their deputies, rearranging their notes and still finding their seats; even an entire small council from the third dimension. Royal families, remaining inner councilors, prime ministers, religious figures, and the scribes were assembled in the seating below them. The lower benches were packed with their contingent.
I paused at a stand containing a closed copy of the Terra and swore an oath while Jo kept hold of my hat. Then I ascended the steps to the high-backed chairs and took my place at the far end, so far along the curved wall that the king of Athenea sat sideways to me. Jo took her place on the bench below me, next to Alfie and Fallon, whose arm reached back so I could take his hand.
He gave me a reassuring squeeze. The instant our hands made contact, the cameras that whirled around of their own accord high above us descended uncomfortably close, and our tender moment was suddenly broadcast to millions.
Beside me Edmund growled loudly, and the cameras skittered away from us like startled animals.
The benches were almost entirely full, just the last few humans filling up those in the middle, and a microphone zipped down from its lofty position to come to a rest in front of the Athenean king.
His welcome and introduction were long and the preamble even more tedious, and I let my mind drift.
It was an incredible spot to people-watch from. I could see everyone I knew: from the Athenean family below me to Lisbeth in the Sagean benches, now one of my ladies-in-waiting and sitting with her parents, a small frown on her face as she listened to the king. Directly opposite were the vampires, the enemy; the assailants the chamber would soon attack. Because who else could possibly be to blame for Violet Lee’s depression? Where else could be the root of this withered tree? It was not me. No one would blame me, bearer of bad news. The awaker. The ilaea.
I wondered, wildly, what it would be like to not have the state of one’s mind disclosed to the world. How it would be if confidentiality meant something exclusive, not me, you, and all the council. What it would be like to lean forward and wrap my arms around Fallon’s shoulders and inhale his fresh scent without making the front page of the paper. It seemed ludicrous.
I thought those things as the king went through the list of Violet’s illnesses; it puzzled me how a public forum was going to remedy any of them.
Eventually, Eaglen wearily got to his feet and I dragged my mind back to the room. He shuffled a few papers on the table in front of him and looked up like he was announcing a death sentence.
“I have, as a humble servant of my king and a seer of fate, been tasked with the unenviable task of deciphering the powers of our young Heroines. I have but few conclusions and can only present the facts and hypotheses. Firstly, and I can confirm this after witnessing her seeing both the late Queen Carmen and her deceased brother, it should be known that Violet Lee is displaying all the signs of being a necromancer.”
The silent room exploded with noise and the cameras buzzed excitedly, capturing the shock.
A bolt of horror shot from my heart to my stomach. My gaze rose from where I had been staring at the floor to meet Eaglen’s, whose eyes were enlarged. He held my gaze, as though trying to transmit an apology.
“Secondly, it should be known that the two Heroines share a connection that defies the limitations of telepathy . . . that is, they share emotions, memories, and experiences without barriers and without consent.”
My cheeks were hot and flushed and I felt like a fire had been lit in my chest. Leaning forward, I stared at the kings of the first and second dimensions, searching for surprise or remorse. Both refused to meet my eyes, and watched their subjects with set resolution. How dare they? How could they?! It is dangerous for people to know about this!
“Lastly, it should be known that I have belief that the Lady Heroine Autumn Rose is developing the powers of a conventional seer alongside those used to awaken the Heroines. The reason for such an accumulation of gifts remains as yet unclear, and my recommendation is we leave them to develop naturally. I can do no more. This is known to be the truth.” He finished with the traditional closing of a speech, his voice fluttering away to a murmur. He slumped, defeated, into his seat.
It took a lot of clenching of fists and a rude word from Edmund to keep myself seated. I had heard about the backstabbing of the Inter, but this? Revealing our powers to the whole world! It was stupid.
I narrowed my eyes at the king of Athenea as he stood up. I thought you were my ally. “Thank you, Eaglen. Now we shall hear from the doctor in charge of Violet Lee’s care . . .”
It was excruciating. Just one long exposé of how she would not drink blood unless manhandled and forced. And then the blame game began.
“Surely it is the responsibility of Athenea, as the host and protector of this young Heroine, to ensure her recovery from this unfortunate bout of insanity?” The speaker was a Sage himself, a councilor I had never seen, let alone spoken to.
The vamperic king didn’t move a muscle but snapped a reply. “As talented as your court healers are, they don’t drink blood. This is problematic when trying to understand the nuances of the mind of a newly turned vampire.”
“Nuances you have clearly failed to cater to, Your Majesty,” snapped the new wife of the shifter king. “You bulldozed her into submission!”
The vampire contingent stirred, and the Athan and guards stationed around the room’s perimeter matched the uneasy shift in temperament, warily looking around and tensing.
Suddenly, a voice rang out from one of the benches directly below me.
“I have words to say on this matter, if it pleases Your Majesty.”
Princess Joanna, Fallon’s older sister and one of those who had gone to save Violet from the vampires when the Varns had found out about her father, had risen from her seat and patiently waited for Ll’iriad’s permission to continue. She looked calm and comfortable, even with such a formidable and volatile audience. He nodded his permission.
“As an ambassador for my kingdom, I spent two weeks in the second dimension, before and after the turning. What I saw pained me, but I refuse to be silenced. The Lady Heroine Violet Lee has been subject to severe emotional and physical abuse from which she is unlikely to recover, at the hands of those who claim to care for her, human and vampire. At the hands of a kingdom and people we now harbor! This,” the young pri
ncess said, half turning to her father, “is known to be the truth.”
Michael Lee threw himself to his feet. “You accuse me of abuse against my own daughter!” I had never seen the man up close—the Athan wouldn’t let him near me, and I was surprised that he had even been allowed to attend the council—but I thought his eyes looked black, and they bored into Joanna like he was trying to burn a hole right through her. She stared back, defiant.
“If you want an abuser, look no farther than that scum.” He pointed a finger at Kaspar Varn, who was already being visibly restrained by another vampire of a similar age who was much more tanned than any other fanged dark being present. “My daughter has Stockholm syndrome, from his torture! That’s what’s wrong with her!”
“Of course you’d believe that! You will never accept our relationship!” Kaspar yelled across the room, not bothering to wait for a microphone to be passed down to him.
The Athenean king wisely sprang up to his feet. “There are serious criminal accusations being made, and it is not the purpose of this council—”
“You cannot, in any case, accuse the man tied to a Heroine of being her abuser! It’s ludicrous!” The vamperic king was on his feet, too; the two monarchs briefly glanced at one another, too quickly for me to catch their expressions.
“Of course, the immunity of the prince; an immunity that means he has never been prosecuted for the murder of my son!” I didn’t recognize the man wrapped in red, who had so abruptly joined the debate, but his words told me he could only be one person: Ilta Crimson’s father.
“Your son was the shit below a hunter’s boot!” Kaspar threw back. “He abused his power as a seer and assaulted Violet, I didn’t! And what about others? My sister and Lord Fabian Ariani, they bullied her, or her ex, Joel; everything I did was done with consent—”
“And you should hear the names Violet’s sister calls her!” Kaspar’s younger brother Cain added.
“Violet Lee was kept willfully ignorant of the enormities of her situation! You cannot claim consent from someone who had no idea her sex life was the topic of argument within a political system she had never even heard of. Educate her, inform her, then claim she has some autonomy in all this!” Antae, the great seer and academic, had risen from his seat among the Damned to shout all others down. There was momentary silence, and then noise, deafening noise; a roar that bounced off the ceiling, people shouting and arguing. Shouts of “Order!” were ignored, and the guards moved swiftly into the center of the room and tensed.
I stood up.
Those immediately around me instantly fell silent. And then those next to them hushed. And those next to them . . .
Microphones and cameras pointed at me, waiting.
I waited, too, until all had noticed me.
And then I proceeded to walk out.
Edmund didn’t say a word. He just followed me down the steps, through the aisles, and into the main thoroughfare. The guards nervously parted for us, their movement the only sound apart from our footsteps, which were embarrassingly lonely.
Am I being immature, walking out? Do I look stupid? Is this the right thing? I just can’t tolerate it any longer!
But then a third pair of footsteps echoed in the chamber, and I knew they were Fallon’s, from his heavy, slightly irregular gait. But, to my astonishment, he wasn’t alone for long. Others were joining him, though I didn’t dare look back to check who.
Kaspar Varn drew almost level with me even as Lillian Lee scrambled out of her pew on the very same side as him . . .
More joined: Lisbeth; my childhood friends James Funnell, Codine, and Raine; Eaglen’s daughter, Arabella; Alya and Adalwin Mortheno, and Richard, flanking us . . .
“Autumn?” Edmund tentatively began in my head as we approached the door.
I held my head a little higher. “If they won’t debate like adults, I shan’t sit among them like one.”
The banner bearers startled at the door, so suddenly opened, and jostled to resume their positions as I marched back beneath the coats of arms, doing exactly what I had dreamed of a couple of hours before: leaving. Once I was out in the open entrance hall, I turned, finally giving in to the curiosity.
“Lords of Earth,” I breathed. Around thirty people had followed me out and were standing expectantly.
Aside from those I had seen leaving their pews, three other Varn children were there—Lyla, Cain, and Jag—and the group of vampires I shared a wing with: Fabian, Felix, Charlie, and Declan, and the American, too. Nervously placing herself between them and Edmund was Charity Faunder; next to her, Violet’s sister, almost in tears.
Alfie and Fallon; two of Fallon’s younger siblings and three of his elder: Joanna, united with the man she had just accused; Henry, the other ambassador; and most unbelievable of all, Sie, recluse and heir to the Athenean throne—I have never even said a single word to him in my life!
“The Inter won’t make Violet better,” I said. That’s what I had thought when I stood up, and I had no other words. People followed me out. They followed . . . me!
But I was not going to hang around.
“Make sure they don’t kill each other,” I told Fallon, whose grin faded before I had even turned on my heel.
“What? Where are you going?”
The doors flew open to reveal the waiting press, who must have been following every bit of the action via the cameras. I knew Fallon was pursuing me, from the way they shouted out his name for comment as well as my own.
“I have an idea, for Violet.”
“Do you need me to help?”
I shook my head as I fastened the ribbons of my hat under my chin; Infanta, my beautiful horse, fresh out of quarantine, waiting for me. “Hold the fort for me.”
As I swung my leg over the saddle, Kaspar flitted down the carpet. He ignored Fallon completely and looked up at me. “I never meant to abuse her, if that’s what you think,” he blurted, eyes wide and begging . . . acceptance?
I examined the vampire for only a fraction of a second longer before I tugged on the reins so Infanta turned and galloped away. I had no answer for him, because I didn’t know what I thought.
I had to save Violet from herself before any other.
That evening, the papers called us “the dissenters.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Fallon
Three hours, and Autumn hadn’t returned from Violet’s room. Outside it was dark, but I hadn’t drawn the curtains in the former’s living room. Instead, I paced the carpet.
What is she up to? What takes this long?! It was torture compared to her afternoon disappearance, when she had kept her mind constantly open so I knew she was safe . . . at the Athenean University, of all places.
“Autumn!” I demanded in my head, expecting silence. Instead, I was greeted with two hard taps on the door.
I turned to Richard, a silent statue in an armchair. His look echoed my thought: That isn’t Autumn’s knock.
“Who is it?” I growled, knowing this wasn’t going to be pleasant company—not at midnight.
There was a pause. “Casper the Ghost. Just let me in.”
My jaw dropped a fraction as my magic gurgled in preparation. Richard was on his feet, scowling.
“What do you want?”
“To talk. I’m not going to kill you, for Christ’s sake, Father would have my soul.”
Even through the door, his accent was grating, like fingernails on a chalkboard scratching out the words classist, arrogant idiot.
“Let him in,” I told Richard, ready and waiting to use the same curse Autumn had performed on Felix.
“Chill, chill,” Kaspar snapped as he came through the door, hands raised in the air beside his head. “No, stay outside,” he told his guards as they went to follow him. “I was rather hoping we would be alone,” he finished, loo
king pointedly at Richard.
I nodded my approval—I could handle a lone vampire, no problem—but knew Richard would be right outside the door, listening to every word.
Kaspar glanced around the room, taking it in, eyes widening a little when he spotted the baby grand piano that had recently been added in the corner near the window. He walked over to it and sat down at the stool, running his fingers across the polished, gleaming keys.
“I assume you haven’t come here simply to entertain yourself,” I prompted when no talk was forthcoming.
“Violet and Autumn kicked me out of the room,” he retorted, beginning to play scales up and down the length of the keyboard. “So I came to apologize,” he said simply, never missing a note.
“Apologize?”
“Yes, you know? To sincerely express regret at an action? You should try it.”
“Apologize for what?” I growled, earnestly wishing I could gag him with a silencing spell.
He very suddenly lifted his hands from the keys and the room fell quiet, apart from the last few notes, which hung as eerie drones in the air. “Autumn told me what Felix said. I didn’t realize he had been such a dick when I attacked you.”
I half raised a shoulder. “Yeah, well . . . it’s done now.”
“Yeah.”
He was studying my reflection in the gleaming wood of the piano. I shoved my hands into my pockets and waited, hoping he would just leave. Sitting there in the light from the moon shining through the window, deathly pale and stock-still, staring at my image . . . it was like a dead man watching me.
“I get angry . . . since Mother died. I get why Autumn is so introverted. You bottle stuff up,” he said slowly.
My arms were as stiff as wood. Is Kaspar Varn talking . . . feelings? “You should try counseling,” I offered, unable to say anything else. “They’ve been great with Autumn.”