Page 110
The other guards placed their hands on the remaining bowls. Their blood joined the first memory instead of showing the attack again.
A red seal formed on the wall.
“The charge is held,” the room said. “Regent Adrian Rook must answer when the formal court opens.”
Stellan’s blood cuffs flashed. He bent one wrist and looked at the fading line.
“Did it weaken them?” I asked.
“It blocked Adrian from using the restraints until he answers the charge. The Crown’s original sentence remains.”
I stepped off the raven. “So he can’t order you to bring me to him again.”
“Not without entering this room and defending what he did.”
“He won’t come willingly,” Lenora said. “He has the formal court, the main gate and enough frightened vampires to slow us down. The witness call went out, but the outer houses will want to see the proof for themselves.”
“They will,” I said. “The room can keep it safe until they arrive.”
Lenora looked behind me. “It’s doing more than that.”
The silver raven had opened along its wings. A lit staircase descended under the room, and cold air carried the scent of old blood.
Stellan stared into the opening. “The Crown vault. It was sealed after Cecily died. Harrowmere accepted that Adrian’s attack was an attempt to take the Crown.”
Lenora moved towards the line and stopped short of it. “I’ll hold this room and keep the witnesses alive. If Adrian comes through the outer door, the seal will warn you.”
“Don’t fight him alone,” I said.
“I have four guards who are very angry about being forced to attack you.” The woman beside her bared her fangs. Lenora rested her hand on her sword. “We’ll manage the door.”
Stellan went down first. I followed close enough to see each step around his body. The entrance sealed over us after we reached the bottom, leaving the lamps to guide us along a short passage.
The vault door stood open.
Broken pieces of black stone filled shelves along one wall. Silver tools lay inside glass cases, most bent or burned. A row of narrow bottles held dark blood labelled with dates going back centuries. The air tasted metallic against my tongue.
“Failed coronations?” I asked.
“Failed attempts to control the Crown,” Stellan said. “Every queen added records of what didn’t work so the next heir wouldn’t repeat it. Cecily showed me this room once. Adrian was never allowed inside.”
A blood image moved across the far wall.
Adrian stood at a stone table with a bottle in one hand. I recognised the dark red blood inside it before Stellan spoke.
“Mine,” he said.
The recorded Adrian poured a small amount over a broken point from the Crown. Red light touched the metal and died. He swore, wiped the point clean and tried again with blood from a second bottle.
Nothing changed.
A blurred figure outside the memory asked a question. Adrian answered clearly.
“A common vampire can’t alter royal bloodwork. I need the heir wearing the Crown and the recognised Blood King alive long enough to surrender his heart.”
Bryony’s recorded name followed, although the rest of the sentence had been damaged. Adrian picked up a long silver dagger and pressed its point against a drawing of a vampire’s chest.
The image vanished.
