Page 12 of Brimstone

The creature’s appearance was terrifying enough without wondering how it could just exist here like this, a constant,unsettling presence. As if he could sense my discomfort, Kingfisher moved on.The old woman is Algat, Keeper of Records. She was a witch once. Cast out by her own clan for meddling in dark magics. She might look like the oldest of the Lords, but she’s actually the youngest. I had cause to deal with her once or twice before she transitioned. Pure evil runs through her veins, Little Osha. Do not underestimate her.

Even as he said it, the old woman’s head canted at an unnatural angle, turning toward Kingfisher, as if she could hear the conversation passing between us. I couldn’t make out much of her face with all that thick gray hair hanging down, but I could see her hideous grin. Rotten, yellow teeth filled her mouth, long as a rat’s. Her canines were so elongated that they pierced her lower lip, streaking her chin red with blood.

Her cloudy eyes locked with mine, and—

I was back in the Third.

I was arguing with Hayden.

I was back in Madra’s palace, fighting to free my hands as Harron came to kill me.

I was in Kingfisher’s bed in Ballard, safe in his arms.

He was inside me, and my soul was full of fire, and—

“Do you think I can smoke in here?”

I jumped out of my skin at the sound of Carrion’s voice.

I’d been staring at the old woman. She had been staring at me. How long had I . . .

An ice-cold sensation flooded my head. It felt as if someone had been rifling through my pockets. I glanced at Fisher out of the corner of my eye, but he was staring at the ceiling, affecting boredom, unaware anything untoward had just happened. When I turned to Carrion, about to ask him to repeat himself, I saw that the idiot had a cigarillo in his mouth and was fishing around in his pocket for his flint box.

“What in all five hells are youdoing?” I hissed. “Donotlight that.”

Fisher growled, finally noticing what the true heir to the Winter Court was up to. He stepped back behind the throne and ripped the cigarillo out of Carrion’s mouth, tossing it to the ground.

“Are we keeping you from something, Your Highness?” The voice rent the air in two like a whip.

Ereth stood at the center of the five-pointed star, his cloak thrown back over one shoulder as if he had spun around in haste. Zovena was as still as a statue, as were the others, but I could tell that she was crowing inside.

Once upon a time, I hadn’t been the only apprentice at the Third’s most notorious forge. Elroy had caught me whispering to one of his other students and had been furious that I hadn’t been paying attention to him waxing poetic about different glass tempering styles. This moment felt alotlike that.

I was two seconds away from being scolded like a misbehaving child. That wouldnotbe good. The Lords needed to be brought to heel, not offered an invitation to chide me. I had to pull the situation back, to take the proceedings in hand. My first instinct was to apologize for the interruption, but a queen didnotapologize.

I raised my chin and stared Ereth down, filling my veins with ice. “Yes, Ereth. Since you’ve finally thought to ask, Idohave better things to do than listen to you all bickering like children. I was told this was supposed to be a coronation, so let’s proceed with the business of it, shall we?”

A tense quiet fell over the Hall of Tears. It was only now, with every vampire present stunned to silence, that I realized why this place was called the Hall of Tears: somewhere, out there in the dark, someone was crying. A mournful wail echoed off the columns and then ricocheted around the recessed alcoves—a sound devoid of hope. A shiver ran up my spine as I heard another sob join the first, and then another, and another. Out there, beyond the crowds and the strange white-green glow of the torches, people were suffering.

“My sincere apologies, Your Highness.” Ereth had dropped into a deep bow, pale hand pressed to the middle of his chest. He lifted his head, looking up at me from beneath dark brows, and I saw the mockery in his eyes. “You’reabsolutelyright. How foolish of me. The night is wasting, and there’s much to be done.”

“The girl needs to drink before she’s crowned.” It was Algat who made the declaration. Her cracked voice reminded me of the reckoning wind that used to howl across the dunes and batter the Silver City: dry and angry. “How can she hope to rule if she is not leashed to the blood?”

Taladaius had explained that he would hold his tongue as best he could during the evening’s proceedings. He had been Malcolm’s favorite—his Keeper of Secrets—which meant that he wasnota favorite among the five. He hadn’t wanted to do or say anything to color the actions of the others, but at Algat’s comment, he quickly stepped forward. “She isn’t required to drink,” he said. “No rule or law prescribes it.”

“No law and no rule, maybe, but what of common sense?” the old woman asked, in a sly croak. “Come now, Taladaius. The girl’s a virgin—”

Excuseme?” I couldn’t stop myself. My indignation erupted from me before I could reel it back. “I assure you, I amnot.”

Algat gave me a pitying look. “Not of the body, child.” Her head tipped toward Fisher again, the speed and angle of the motion making my stomach twist. “We smell the sex on both you and your mate perfectly well, I assure you. No, you are a virgin of the blood. You have not fed from the life source of the living—”

“She’s still a member of their number,” Zovena cut in with obvious disgust. “I said it before and no one cared to comment on the matter, but how can a member of the livingfeedon the living? Again, how can she hope to rule . . .” She trailed off, her eyes growing round in her head as she took me in.

I had risen to my feet.

And my heart had stopped beating.

It hadn’t taken long to master the trick. Taladaius had known that his counterparts would take offense over the issue, and so he had taught me how to paralyze the muscle in my chest. It had been simple enough. All I had to do was picture my heart resting, taking a break, and that was precisely what it did.