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“I know nothing of the sort–”

“She’s barely a woman, for Christ’s sake!” A mentally distressed one at that. “She should be with her peers. She should get an education. Further her interests. As Baroness she will be able to achieve that, while also being under strict supervision and protection.”

“That was not our deal.”

“No. The deal was that when your niece came of age she would have a black wedding with a male blood relative to the throne. As I am heirless,” or at least Clive Kayes is, after I killed his son, Benji, “I am the only option and I will fulfill the obligation. But the girl I picked up at the hospital is ill-prepared for the duties of a King’s wife. She’s barely capable of taking care of herself.”

“Are you implying that my niece is defective in some way?”

“She’s young and vulnerable,” I reply with sympathy. “You should be thankful I’ve taken her off your hands, not making demands.”

“She was fine before she was taken,” he begins. “It’s not my fault those monsters traumatized her.” His eyes meet mine. “At least they left her intact. The doctor at the hospital confirmed it.”

I scowl beneath my mask. Hexley doesn’t know it, but I’m well familiar with the signs of mental disorder. The inability to focus, mood swings, heightened emotions, the vacant, faraway looks, the fear that vibrates off their body. Both my wife and son are afflicted, and their illness has destroyed our family. This girl… well, I’m not one to armchair diagnose, but her distress goes deeper than her kidnapping. It permeates her very being. No, she’s been afflicted for some time.

But a deal is a deal, and I’m not walking away from this empty-handed. “How I manage my recruits, my Barons, and the Baroness in my house, will be my decision.” I feel my temper rising and I take a deep breath. “There is only room for one woman in the House of Night, and that woman will fulfill both the roles of Baroness and my wife.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, but I see the wheels turning in his head. “As long as she is your responsibility and is treated as a royal.”

Because that is what this is all about. He wants access. A link to royalty. To our power.

But a lingering vision of Arianette keeps surfacing in my mind. Those wild, scared brown eyes watching her men as they painted her in sacred Baron blood. The way she took our symbol being marked between her breasts, swallowing the pain. I watched her body tremble as DK stroked her sensitive flesh, drawing her to the edge and then retreating.

I may not experience the Hunt and Claiming directly, but these men are an extension of myself. Their hands do my work and the work they did on Arianette was enlightening.

I’ve experienced many BRN ceremonies over the years, but even with my annoyance over this arrangement, I felt a difference with this girl. My reply is low and firm, “She becamemyresponsibility during the initiation last night.”

“You say that,” he glances down to inspect his nails, “but I’ll need proof of consummation.”

“Are you asking for a front row seat? Or for me to hang a bloody sheet off the Kayes Crypt for all of Forsyth to see?” I sneer, disgusted by his presence. By the fact I’m lowered to this position with a man of no royal standing. No power to make such a demand. But that’s the thing. Hexley has something I want, and this arrangement is what gives it to me.

“I’m aware that it’s a Baron’s way to be dramatic, but cut the theatrics. A medical exam will do.”

“And when you get that, I’ll get what I want?” I tap my ring on the wooden arm of my chair, my impatience growing. “As promised?”

“You’ll receive the keys once the ceremony is performed and I receive my proof.”

I nod curtly, ready for this man to leave my sanctuary. I figure the best way for that to happen is to give him exactly what he wants. “The Black Wedding will take place in two weeks.”

He perks up. “So soon?”

“On Halloween,” I affirm, ignoring the way his lips turn down with his distaste for our rituals. “You’ll receive an invitation shortly.”

“Then I consider the matter settled,” he stands, as ready as I am for him to leave. “Give my niece my regards and let her know I’ll see her at the ceremony, where it’ll be my honor to unite our families.”

There’s something about this man I don’t trust, and it’s not the false pretension that oozes out of his every pore. Not once has he asked to see Arianette. Not when she was found on the riverbank, not when she was recovering in the hospital, and not while she’s been in my possession.

He may not have royal blood, but he sure fucking acts like it.

10

Hunter

“...beforeI go, I want to discuss something that has been on my mind. Rebirth. I know that’s usually a spring theme; hatching eggs, baby bunnies, and hungry little caterpillars eating their ways through everything they run across.” I lean back, one hand scratching Ares’ ears and the other holding a tightly wrapped cigarette, a curl of smoke rising from the tip. “In Forsyth, fall is the catalyst. It’s not just the start of a new year, with new roommates and classes starting all over campus with the opportunity for each of us to fill our still evolving brains with knowledge. There’s a fresh round of Greek recruitment, new tribes of Royals have been selected, their House Girls chosen for whatever the year plans to throw at them, which,” I move my mouth close to the microphone and add quietly, “for the lucky won’t be getting snatched off the street in broad daylight…” I take another drag, this one slower than before. I only allow myself one for every hour of the show and my shift is winding down. “I digress…rebirthis in the air. Quite literally for the Princess who just dropped a new princeling, and certainly forthe BRN who just initiated their new Barons and claimed a new Baroness under the full moon.”

I suck the very last of the tobacco out of the cigarette, then let the paper burn to the end before stubbing it out. “It’s a new year, new opportunities, new loyalties, new lies.” I set up the next song, the first strains of music hitting the air. “As always, I leave you on this fine fall morning with the most sincere of blessings from WXFU: Wake up, Forsyth. Wake up, and smell that sweet decay…”

I turn the music all the way up and slide the chair away from the desk. The next DJ, a girl named Everly, waits outside. She’s a journalism major and treats her morning shift like she’s an investigative reporter at fucking CNN.