Page 105 of Entombed By Blood

Evelyn

The crowdon the balcony is significantly thinner than the floor below. These people are the elite, chuckling and toasting one another as they ignore the simpering masses below them. I remember the same divide from before I was shoved in the coffin, but it’s more defined here.

This level of society is one where everyone knows everyone else, by reputation, if nothing else. Frost and I will stand out like a sore thumb. That’s why I keep us moving, trying to keep one eye on the room below at the same time as searching for Morwen.

We pass a group of six thrones—the single large one in the centre making the other five look dowdy by comparison—but I still can’t see her. I let out a huff of impatience with my sister’s games, and settle over the balustrade to give the search for Immy my full attention.

Eventually, she finds me, just like I knew she would.

“Long time no see, sister.” The breath of cold air on my neck is all the warning I’m given before Morwen is standing in front of me.

One side of her head is shaved, just like the last time I saw her, but she’s accessorised the other side with tiny silver beads that match the colour of her dress. The effect makes it look like she’s a living spill of liquid metal.

“How did it feel, finally disappointing our sire after all of those centuries of being his perfect protégé?” she asks, cocking her head to one side.

“It’s not an experience I’d recommend,” I reply, keeping my voice bland.

Negative emotions are a big trigger for Morwen. If I let her provoke me, there’s a good chance my blood will be soaking into the carpet before I can blink.

“Yet clearly one you want to repeat,” she replies, “Given that you’ve returned without the heads of his enemies.”

I quirk a single brow behind my mask. “Who says I don’t have them?”

Morwen doesn’t look impressed. “If you did, this party would be a lot more interesting.”

Frost squeezes my arm, but I ignore him.

“You’d know a thing or two about not bringing back a target, wouldn’t you?” I say. “Tell me, how did you fool him into thinking Samuel was really dead? I might need some pointers.”

My sister’s skin turns an ashen kind of grey, and her hand moves into her bag, like she’s clutching it for support. My own hand drops lightly to the pommel of my sword in answer. I’ve thrown her, and that makes her dangerous.

“Evie, back off,”Gideon orders.“She’s got a gun trained on you inside her bag.”

“Who told you that?” Morwen demands.

“Someone whoclearlywasn’t lying,” I retort, just as stunned as she is.

Whatever Morwen might say in answer is cut off by a sudden silence from the orchestra, and a deafening round of applause. All three of us look over the balcony, just in time to catch the crowd parting as a familiar face strides into the ballroom.

Our sire has arrived.

My eyes scan the space around him, desperately searching for any sign of Immy. But there’s no splash of auburn hair. Nothing to indicate she’s here at all.

“We will discuss this later,” Morwen growls, shoving past us. “I have a gift to present.”

She disappears into the crowd like smoke. Completely untraceable.

“I have eyes on Vane,”Finn confirms, seconds later.“South entrance, held by eight vampires. He’s in rough shape.”

“Moving to intercept.”Silas mutters.

“Don’t engage,”Gideon orders.“Remember, let him scent you, so he knows to be ready, but keep out of sight of his guards.”

“Let her present him,” I mumble. “Cain likes captives. He won’t order him executed straight away. It’s why he’ll love the idea of having Frost alive.”

“If he gets taken out of here, we lose our chance,”Gideon argues.

“He won’t,” I insist. “He’s a trophy, and they’re only worth something if they’re on display.”