Page 74 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)

FLICK

Though the night was cool, Flick was anything but.

She had stepped free of the bunker, but still saw the trembling shoulders of the kidnapped girls and boys.

She saw Arthie covered in blood. The very smell of the bunker—a little damp, a little earthy—made her limbs throb as if she were trapped inside that room again.

She took a fortifying breath and turned to the guests loitering in the gardens. Flick knew some of them from debutant balls, others from meetings with Lady Linden. None of them paid Flick any attention, and she was intent on keeping it that way.

She wished she had been able to forge those invites for Arthie, but she was surprised to find two of the lords she had wanted to invite stepping through the gates. Strange . Why would the Ram invite people she disliked to a vicennial? Then again, the Ram didn’t know Arthie planned to unmask her.

The palace loomed, stunning even beneath the moonlight.

It was nowhere near the dark opulence of the Athereum.

Where the vampire society was sultry and sensuous in comparison, the palace stood sinister.

As if evil was what held the bricks together.

The suffering of others, from the vampires of White Roaring to the colonies across the sea.

Flick had never seen the inside of the palace, despite her mother wearing the mask of Ettenia. Family rarely had a place in the monarchy when the identity of their rulers was a secret.

With Laith and Jin, Flick had escorted the captives to one of the Athereum carriages, thankful for the darkness that shielded them from view. Flick didn’t want to let them go on their own, but Sidharth assured them the driver would escort them himself to the Horned Guard headquarters.

There was always the concern that the guards wouldn’t believe the voice of the victims, but once the crew unmasked the Ram and bared her sins to the capital’s elite and the Council alike, the Horned Guard would understand. Flick and Jin would go there themselves and ensure it after, if they had to.

When the Old Roaring Tower rang in the hour, Flick was alone. Jin had rushed back to help Matteo and Arthie. Laith was with Sidharth, discussing their plan of attack. The palace doors swung open, groaning with a sense of finality. A buzz rose from the guests, and they began migrating inside.

Though this was a tribute and supposedly a more somber affair, the air was no different than a lavish ball. Flick didn’t blame the attendees as much as the Ram who had decided a celebration was in order when throngs of the press had died—mutilated and butchered in their pursuit of the truth.

Calling it a tribute was a cruel joke. It was a vicennial through and through.

The walls oozed opulence, and the more Flick looked, the more she noticed her mother’s touch—the Ram’s touch—throughout. It felt like she was in the Linden Estate again.

Some of the guests had gathered in groups, some drifted on their own, others in pairs.

The Athereum vampires dispersed into the crowd, exchanging nods and pleasantries.

They were stunning as ever, well-dressed and elegant.

Flick thought it strange that the very people who turned their noses up at vampires greeted them by all but slobbering.

Then again, that was what people across White Roaring did to Matteo too.

A stage was erected up ahead, and several chairs fanned out behind a podium. For the Council . Dread coiled tight in Flick’s belly, knotting itself over and over with each passing breath.

A string quartet began to play, and several of the ladies near her commented on the Ram’s choice in music.

There were lords dabbing at their lips after sampling the night’s nibbles, and couples already gossiping about other couples.

A familiar bronze glint caught her eye, and Flick peered through the mingling crowd and saw one of the members of the Council.

They’d arrived.

“Hello, Felicity,” a voice said.

She turned in a panic and slammed into a warm, solid chest. “Jin!”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, pulling away.

“I—no! I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Ah, yes, my voice does sound different when I’m among the rich. The disgust is harder to keep at bay.”

“I’m being quite serious. Where’s Arthie?”

“Arthie is fine. She’ll be here, worry not. The Ram’s men might come looking any minute now, but it’ll be a decent while before they find me,” he said, and then he tilted his head.

“What?” she asked, suddenly shy.

“This feistiness is a good look on you,” he whispered, and a lord and lady nearby began to point at their closeness.

Flick seized up, her spine going rigid. She struggled to calm herself down. She didn’t need to worry about rumors spreading or her mother getting angry.

Jin ran his hands up and down her gloved skin until her breathing slowed and then quickened for another reason entirely. It was a welcome distraction from the nosy guests and the evening to come, for the last time she was dressed just as lovely, the floor ended up covered in blood.

Voices dropped to hushed tones, silence weaving like smoke through the White Roaring clouds as the Ram appeared. She walked to the podium, her footsteps ringing sharply on the lacquered stage. Her mask gleamed in the light of the many chandeliers, figure obscured by her cloak.

She rang a small, tinkling bell, as if every eye wasn’t already upon her.

“Welcome, my friends,” the Ram said. “Thank you for taking time to attend this tribute on the night of my vicennial. I understand that this is a most daunting time for us, and yet you braved the deadly streets.”

Deadly because she made it so, Flick wanted to tell them. Beside her, Jin scoffed too.

“Two weeks ago, charlatans attempted to disrupt our peace,” the Ram said. As she spoke, one by one, the Council members began to take their seats behind the Ram, including the mask with the beautiful eyes.

“Is that…,” Flick began.

“Yes,” Jin murmured. He felt a spike of pride as he watched Arthie join the six others with her borrowed mask, a black cloak shrouding her attire and figure at once.

Nearby, tucked away from the rest of the Council’s view between guests, Jin spotted Rayan, the man whose mask Arthie now wore. He gave Jin a slight nod.

“They gathered our finest reporters,” the Ram continued, “men and women dedicated to the truth of our flourishing, growing empire. Perhaps they were jealous. Perhaps they feared our success. Whatever the reason, they sought to cause chaos, and so they did. They marched into our meeting hall and slaughtered them. I’m lucky to have escaped with my life. ”

Flick held back her scoff.

“Who did it?” someone asked in a nasally voice.

“Vampires, of course, with their human underlings. The sort threatened by our stature, for they do not realize that the victory of one class is a victory for each and every one of us. But the sacrifice of our brave pensmiths was not in vain,” the Ram continued.

“We will usher in a new time for Ettenia, a new age.”

A hum echoed through the crowd, rife with excitement.

That was when Arthie stood.