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Alice. The Dead Queen’s Blade. The one who had started all of it, everything that led to her mother’s death. The one who had stormed the palace that night with a pack of Shifters. Amalia had felt numb when she’d found out that was who the council chose to replace her, but now…
Now she felt angry. Disgusted.
Why did it have to be her, of all people? Why couldn’t the Priestesses have held her spot on the council? Until she was ready? Why hadn’t anyone even talked to her before they decided, even mentioned it to her?
They hadn’t even thought about her, had they? Hadn’t even considered how it might feel for her to be replaced on the council by the woman who had ruined her whole life...
“Amalia?” Vee prompted. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
She was hyperventilating, Amalia realized. She inhaled slowly, trying to calm her breathing to a normal level.
“The council is meeting right now,” she explained in a quiet voice. “We can’t go in there.”
She’d expected disappointment. Maybe even anger, since she couldn’t show Vee the Eastern Wing either. She hadn’t expected Vee to get even more excited.
“You’re serious?” she asked, releasing Amalia’s hand to clap her own together excitedly. “They’re meeting now? At night?”
Amalia nodded. “They always meet at night now,” she explained. “For the Demon and Vampire Factions. It’s easier for them…”
She trailed off. Vee wasn’t listening anymore, she was tiptoeing closer to the door and pushing it further ajar.
“Vee,” Amalia hissed. “Vee, stop, we can’t go in there!”
“Why not?” Vee asked, turning to look at her over her shoulder. “We can just watch, right? It’s not like they’re hiding anything, are they?”
Amalia blinked.
“I guess…” she answered, considering. Why couldn’t they just watch, after all? No one had ever said she wasn’t allowed to watch the meetings… no one had ever forbidden her from coming, either. Wasn’t she, of all people, allowed to see what they were doing?
Wasn’t she supposed to beonthe council?
Vee shot her a grin and turned back, nudging the door open a little more so they could peak inside.
“We don’t even need to go inside, see?” Vee whispered to her. “We can just watch from here. They’ll never even know we were here, trust me.”
Something felt off. Wrong. But Amalia shook the feeling off, moving closer to the door with Vee. Vee took her hand again, smiling at her, and despite everything, despite the feeling in her gut, despite being right outside the last room she ever wanted to see again, Amalia found herself smiling back at her.
Her hands were so different from Amalia’s. Calloused, where Amalia’s were soft. Scarred, where Amalia’s were flawless and perfectly groomed. Vee’s fingernails were rough and jagged, and a little dirty. She liked that. Liked the contrast. Liked the way their hands looked with their fingers laced together. She liked the darker tan of Vivian’s skin against her golden hues.
“Shhh,” Vee whispered to her, even though Amalia wasn’t talking. “I want to hear what they’re saying.”
“—send someone to request a meeting,” Alice was saying. “Request, Cassiel. Not demand. Repeat that back to me, so I know you understand.”
The Vampire’s reply was so full of venom, Amalia felt herself shrinking away from him, instinctively.
“I’m not in the habit of making requests,” the deSanguine said. His voice held so much menace, so much violence, Amalia wanted to turn and run. But Alice… Alice didn’t flinch. She didn’t cower away from him even a little. From their vantage point in the doorway, they had a perfect view of her as she turned to the deSanguine and raised a single eyebrow.
“Repeat it back to me, Cassiel,” she said, slowly, as though talking to a child. A child, and not a deadly blood sucker who could snap her in two in an instant.
And to Amalia’s shock, the Fallen King—one of the worst of the bogeymen from the stories told to her when she was a kid—laughed. He didn’t cackle, didn’t snicker villainously. He simply… laughed.
Holding his hand up as though swearing an oath, he spoke. “I, Cassiel Salvatore deSanguine, will request a meeting withl’enfant de sang. Not demand,” he said in a clear, amused tone.
“Excellent,” Alice said.
They weren’t scared of him, Amalia realized. None of them were scared of him… and he didn’t seem scared of Alice. He wasn’t terrified of the ex-assassin at the table. The Blades had been her mother’s greatest weapon, the strongest and most deadly Witches in the realm. They should be terrified of her.
They were all peers, Amalia thought suddenly. That’s why they weren’t scared of each other. And that’s why she hadn’t fit in among them. She wasn’t their peer, was she? Wasn’t strong like they were, wasn’t powerful… The realization left an uncomfortable lump in her throat.
