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Images of my people’s terrified faces flickered through my mind. Surrounded and cut off from me by thralls. The same kind of monsters that had hunted me all my life. Driving me to flee town to town, trying to stay one step ahead of them.

Until my Blood found me.

The whispering died down, and in that silence, Guillaume drew his sword in an ominous glide of steel. Though he only casually held it before him, tip braced on the stone beneath our feet. His message was clear.

My Triskeles Executioner was ready to begin the slaughter.

“Last chance.” I cocked my head, waiting. When no one left, I gave a nod to my Blood standing guard. “Shut the doors. No one is allowed to enter or leave this space until I’m finished. I will cleanse Paris of the Dauphine’s influence once and for all.”

“Heard, Your Majesty,” Lew bellowed out in his alpha voice. “No one shall pass.”

“You may begin the introductions, Mr. Renardet.”

Harvey turned to face me and bowed low. “My pleasure, Your Majesty. There are fifty-five queens in attendance today. I have ranked them by the size of their household and will call them in order, if that’s acceptable to you.”

At my nod, he turned to face the crowd. He didn’t carry a clipboard like Rosalind’s consiliarius, or any paper or folder at all. “Her Majesty Kimora Damas.”

The gathered assembly parted down the middle, widening a path from the very back of the crowd. Dressed in a gown with a huge, wide skirt in sumptuous sapphire brocade, Kimora held a regal pose, head up, shoulders back, as she calmly and proudly surveyed the other queens. If she held the largest surviving house, then she probably saw herself as taking over House Valois’ property. Perhaps even holding Paris in my stead.

“House Damas is one of the oldest Parisian Aima houses still in existence,” Harvey continued, confirming what I suspected. “Queen Kimora has twenty Blood and five sibling queens. Shall I call them all forward, Your Majesty?”

“They may all approach,” I replied.

Kimora walked slowly down the aisle, her skirts swishing gently on the stone floor, followed by her Blood. As the other queens fell into step behind her, Harvey called out their names as well.

“Her Majesty Stasia Limoges, Her Majesty Morgana Montmorency, Her Majesty Romilda Dupont, Her Majesty Kassandra A L’Espée, Her Majesty Aura Lyons.”

Another twenty-five Blood followed them, filling the entire area in front of the dais.

Images flickered rapidly through Sekh’s bond as he scanned the five siblings. Though there was no doubt at all that Kimora had been involved with the master thrall. He’d entered her nest dozens of times over the centuries before the Dauphine’s death, as well as several times after. Her nest was also only a few blocks away from House Valois.

Then the most telling moment of all: these queens sitting around a table with Rosalind, the master thrall standing at her side.

Carys leaned down with a quiet rustle of Winnifred’s feathers as she shifted her weight on the queen’s shoulder. “Not quite one hundred percent but very close, my queen.”

Her voice carried enough for Kimora to overhear. One corner of her mouth quirked up in a smug smile. Clearly she had no idea Carys saw the percentage of her betrayal, not her presumed loyalty.

I met Kimora’s gaze. Waiting. Without saying a word.

One of her Blood, presumably her alpha, stepped up beside her. She wrapped her arm around his and he escorted her closer. She stepped up onto the dais without any hesitation. He helped her kneel despite the awkward full skirt, and then he dropped to one knee slightly behind her, his right hand curled around the pommel of his thin sword hanging from his waist. He cast a wary glance over at Guillaume, who hadn’t moved a muscle. Then my alpha. A bead of sweat tracked down his forehead and his knuckles whitened on the hilt.

They had greater numbers than my Blood. But it wouldn’t matter. If the sphinxes didn’t tear them apart in seconds, they’d have to deal with the Executioner, who could clear this entire room if needed.

Daire straightened from his draped curl over my knees, raising the knife. Kimora held out her hand, but he made no move to cut her.

“I only drink from throats,” I said.

Not exactly true, but giving throat meant something to these Old-World queens, and I intended this to be as grand a spectacle as they’d seen yesterday at House Valois.

A thin crack appeared in her calm and regal veneer, the first narrow flicker of her gaze to mine. “Very well.” A pause. Long enough to be a shout. “Your Majesty.”

Oh, goddess, I’m going to enjoy this.

She turned her head slightly, leaning out for Daire to make a neat cut on her throat. Her blood dripped onto the dais, stirring my hunger. Though I would much rather taste one of my Blood than her, I wanted her to feel the weight of her oath sinking into her with every drop.

Especially when she knowingly lied.

“From this day forward, House Damas swears fealty to House Isador.” She leaned closer, turning her head aside with a faint quiver of dread. When I made no move to seal the agreement, she looked at me again, though her gaze landed on my chest. Where the blood stains marked my white gown. “Your Majesty?”