Page 5 of Light Fae's Love
My gaze travels over their group now, and I see another close ally of mine next to them, the massively robust blond-haired German Master of Bavaria, Gunter Spielmann. Dressed in a classy tux with a dark maroon jacket and rounded lapels, Gunther is almost as fellow-well-met as I am. Comfortable wherever he goes because of his massive power and how few Masters challenge it, he exchanges smiles with the Spaniards, then glances to me as he feels me watching.
I give him a nod, and he raises his glass back.
Beside Gunther, however, is a tall Nordic Vampire with pale white-blue eyes. Chilly, far more even than other Vampires of his vastly advanced age, Master Vasily Ilyov of Siberia is lean and gaunt, almost willowy in his modern yet ancient ice-blue couture. With Curio’s Winter Fae look, Master Ilyov has straight white-silver eyebrows and long white-silver hair combed over one shoulder, typical of the ancient Winter Fae he was born among, long ago.
Vasily Ilyov is not an ally of mine, however; a distinct aura of disdain suffuses him as his gaze meets mine. As his chill ice-blue eyes peruse me, ancientness breathes through my very soul. Master Ilyov is dangerous, and old; he might even be one of the oldest Vampires I’ve ever met as he watches me with his blasé disdain, then re-enters conversation with the Romeros. I do not know why he’s come to the Meeting of the Havens this year, when he’s only come once before.
The very first year I started it.
I have no more time to ponder Ilyov and his motives, though, as I notice curls of power from all four of the Masters in the Romeros’ groups ease toward me and Ariana.
Seeking to figure us out—and why I keep my Dark Fae so much in my favor.
“They are curious about you, Quinn, and why you keep Ariana so close,” Eiseth says as she feels their seeking magics as well. Her gaze is darkly evaluating, yet sparkling with pleasure as she regards us and sips her wine. “I feel their mind-chatter like voices on the wind; they all want to know about you, Ariana, after you and Quinn saved us from that horde of Vampire Revenants that attacked us a week ago at the opening gala of the Meeting, by using the Music of the Spheres and returning them to their sanity and earthly bodies. They wish to know how strong you are, how new, how closely bonded to Quinn you are, or not. Questions pour through them, but Vampires are patient creatures. Until it is time to strike.”
“Strike?” Ariana lifts her eyebrows at Eiseth, and I feel shock cascade through her that one of our allies might harm us.
“Of course, darling. Vampires are all about the strike.” With an amused chuckle, Lady Eiseth hands her wineglass off to be refilled by one of my Vampire Hotel servers. Nodding in thanks, she receives it back before gesturing with it around the nighttime party, the blue-white nimbus of the sun still lingering upon the Twilight horizon all around.
“See them, Ariana. Memorize their faces and attributes with your growing power. For many in this atrium tonight will be friends, and many more will be enemies as your power opens. And some, you can never tell whether they are enemies or friends. Until the day someone strikes you in the back with a Devilswood stake and that’s that.”
Her lips curl into a little smile as Lady Eiseth gives me an amused, pointed look.
“It was in the chest, angled up between the fourth and fifth left ribs, as is one of the best places for a strike to the heart,” I respond with gallows humor now—though my Vampiric aura darkens as I recall the conversation Ariana had earlier with Curio and Arturos about my former Sire, Emiliana DiClario.
Which I overheard through our bond, though I didn’t mean to.
“Emiliana should have been armored.” Eiseth chuckles, her grey eyes shining with wit as she gestures to her breastplate.
“Is that why you wear armor?” Ariana asks the Mistress of Britain now, curious.
“But of course, Dark Fae!” Eiseth looks pleased and gives a laugh at our dangerously frank talk. “I have not gone without my armor in over a thousand years. Even when I was still human, it was a part of me, waking or sleeping. For a queen-heir has many enemies. And I have even more now, as a Vampire Master with a territory of my own.”
“Everyone here does.” I survey the outdoor hall as I watch Masters come and go. “Not one of us can say our lives are entirely safe, Ariana. Power is a game all Vampires play, and Masters play that game harder than most, because their lives and the lives of everyone in their Dark Havens depend on it.”
“What power games did Emiliana play among the Masters?” Ariana asks now, and I feel how she can’t help but pry into the past I never talk about, for very good reason.
Lady Eiseth’s gaze is like grey fire as it pins me again, piercing.
“You would not ask such questions, Dark Fae, if you knew the suffering Quinn and his kin endured under his previous Mistress.” An edge of Eiseth’s mist-grey power swirls around her now like a blade, though it’s not for either me or Ariana.
It’s for the late Emiliana DiClario—whom Eiseth hated nearly as much as I did, though for different reasons.
“Eiseth. It’s fine,” I say with quiet sobriety now as I set my wine aside on the bar.
“No, Quinn, it’s not.” Eiseth is fierce as she glances at me, astonished. “Have you told the young woman nothing yet about Emiliana?”
“Those aren’t stories anyone needs to hear.” I am quiet, but firm now as I stare the Mistress of Britain down. “Ariana is part of my Dark Haven, not Emiliana’s.”
“It is history. History that affects us all.” Lady Eiseth lifts an eyebrow at me before she looks at Ariana, gesturing around the party. “Listen well, Dark Fae. Those gathered here tonight have come to the Meeting of the Havens because we all wish to see Vampire society rise from the pit of decrepitude our legacy has left us in over the years. For generations, Vampires have been led by those who were most brutal, like Quinn’s old Sire, whom I had a very prolonged feud with, because of how she treated people. Though we Vampires love deeply, we still suffer a terrible reputation because of Masters like Emiliana. Emiliana and her ilk play games with us all. And take all power for themselves, only.”
“Goodness! How emotional. You really should learn to relax a little, Eiseth. It might be good for you.” A bubbling female voice interrupts us now as the Spanish Masters Eduardo and Calla Romero approach. Enjoying champagne instead of wine or blood, their dark, chocolate-brown eyes are cunning with laughter as they nod to me, joining the conversation.
“Yes, always wearing armor like you’re still in battle. It’s gauche, my dear,” Eduardo Romero says, and chuckles to Eiseth, sipping his champagne as he winks at me. Turning to Ariana, he gives a low, sweeping bow. “Lady Dark Fae. A pleasure. My sister and I have wished to talk with you this entire week, though the occasion unfortunately did not arise. You look lovely in pearls! Like a Siren, with your gorgeous long waves of hair. Though that impossibly red color and those piercing jade eyes are all Summer Fae. Unless you have Desert Dragon in your veins?”
“I think I have enough burn in my veins without being a dragon, thanks.” Ariana states smartly back.
I can’t help the pleased smirk that lifts my lips as I sip my wine to cover it.