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Skartovius found it appropriate to have a shadowgala in my honor. For the first time since joining the trio, I would be unveiled to the court of Manor Marquin and would step onto the ballroom floor as opposed to sneaking in through the back gate.

“My hope is, after this night, you will be welcomed and call this stronghold your home,” Skar told me early that evening as we watched from an upstairs balcony.

Below, carriages rolled into the courtyard. The ornate covered wagons had family crests carved into the wooden hulls denoting the particular family attending.

Vallan surveyed the scene silently on my other side, his stoicism heightened for the occasion. His arms were crossed disapprovingly and he grunted as elegant vampires began to step out of the parked carriages.

“Not all will welcome her, brother,” Vall said ominously. “Her blood will entice and excite them. Others will find wrongness in a human by your side, aiding noblebloods.”

Skar frowned across at his bulky, towering brethren. “Getting cold feet, Vall? This was your idea, remember.”

“My idea was to bring her out of the shadows and into society. Not to have a party celebrating such an occasion. This is ostentatious.”

I let them argue over the merits of having a shadowgala in my name. My eyes narrowed on the attendees as they stepped from their carriages and toward the front doors of the mansion, where Garroway waited for them.

My dhampir mate was dressed in a tight tunic that hugged his body well, and I found myself watching him greet the guests more than I watched the guests themselves. “Why does Garro have to humble himself to these pretentious bloodsuckers and act as your butler, Skar?”

“Optics, love. My graybird understands his place in the hierarchy. It is not a disgrace for him to act as my servant or champion in the fighting pit. He understands his role.”

I glanced over at him, quirking my brow. “And what is to be my role?”

Skar shot me a roguish smile. “As you’ve always been, little temptress. You will be my queen. The Lady of Manor Marquin. When we go downstairs to greet our guests, you will sit beside me on the dais.”

I worried my lip and turned to the bustling scene below. Easily two dozen vampires flocked toward the front of the manor, between the colonnade, looking ravishing and pale in the moonlight with their fine gowns and expensive tunics.

To match the occasion with my prior shadowgalas, all vampires attending wore gold masks of varying shapes and sizes. Some had gold horns sprouting from their masks or twisted visages and monstrous appearances to strike a certain note with the assembly.

This was to be a masquerade until Skartovius did the honor of unmasking the group to “reveal” me to his subordinates.

“Yes,” I muttered wryly, “as Vallan pointed out, I’m sure this has no chance of going sideways.”

Skar wrapped a slender hand around the nape of my neck, making goosebumps break out with his cool touch keeping me close, possessing me.

“Do not fear, love. Your anxiety is normal. These people will learn to fear you , and if they do not fall in line, then they will find themselves extricated from my court and their unholy hearts vacated from their chests.”

My head whipped over. “You’d murder members of your own court simply for not accepting me?”

“For you?” His smile took on a wicked bent, slashing across his face like a sword wound. “I’d murder anyone.”

I sat on an ornamented chair next to Skartovius on the raised stage, surveying the mingling court of bloodsuckers in front of me. It was all I could do to keep from fidgeting and bouncing my knee nervously.

The tables were aligned much how I remembered during my first two shadowgalas.

Noblebloods glided from table to table, their gowns and robes sweeping the floor as they gracefully moved and greeted each other.

White-robed slaves hurried through the wide space with trays of blood-filled goblets for the attendees.

Where the blood came from, I didn’t know. I didn’t ask.

Eyes swiveled in my direction every so often, scrutinizing and dangerous behind the gold masks. For the most part, I remained a novelty. The throng was distracted by introductions and busying themselves with other revelers, keeping the attention away from me. At least in the beginning.

Skar noticed my nervousness and put a hand on my knee. “Don’t worry. You look ravishing. Remember our plan.”

We had concocted the scheme in private over the prior nights—a means to keep attention wholly diverted from me during the gala, until I needed to make my grand inauguration. Entertainment was the name of the game, and a means to keep the blood flowing and the bloodsuckers satiated.

For the first time since bonding with Skar, Vall, and Garro, I felt like a fish out of water. Like I was staring at strangers, calling them bloodsuckers and Buvers and bloodies—everything I used to call them when I lived on the Floorboards of Nuhav.

Though I had learned to trust my trio, that courtesy did not extend to Lord Ashfen’s court.

To take my mind off the situation, Skar pointed out and discussed specific attendees as they came to greet and give fealty and devotion to their lord.

After a thin, gaunt vampire came to the dais and bowed, wandering off without a word to me, Skar nodded his chin toward the man.

“Indokkus Shirin. Not an important man in his own right, but he has a human brother in Nuhav we employ handily. Vanison Shirin is a silversmith—an illegal trade, of course—who we utilize for our cause.”

I blinked over at Skar. My mask was a porcelain V that hid the upper half of my face, accentuating my full lips. “This human, Vanison, he crafts weapons out of the silver I’ve been bringing into Nuhav over the past few months?”

“Yes. Quite good at it, too.”

“Sounds dangerous. If the silver mines are forbidden for human contact, how can you trust a human to craft silver weapons to fend against vampire incursions . . . and not use those same weapons against you?”

Skartovius hummed. He looked delectable in a tight-fitting suit of gold and red robes, with a mask that matched and hid his entire beautiful face.

He threw a leg over his knee and drummed his thigh with his spindly fingers.

“With the exception of Vallan, Garroway, and you,” he said quietly, “I trust no one. We get by with mutually assured destruction. The humans we work with know if they use the gifted silver against us, their families and sects will cease to exist.”

I took that in, mulled it over, and still wasn’t sure I agreed with the idea of arming humans with the very weakness the vampires feared. Then I scoffed. What am I thinking? Humans are supposed to be my people! Why would I care if they kill vampires when that had been my own goal for so many years?

These delectable bloodsuckers truly were corrupting me to their way of life.

Skar aimed his eyes on a plump masked woman making her way by the tables, with two male mates close on either side of her. “I’m sure you recognize that one.”

I gawked. “Helget.” My former friend and Grimdaughter who had been eager to get chosen as broodstock among Lord Ashfen’s court. She’d been neglected her first shadowgala.

Helget hadn’t noticed me yet. I preferred to keep it that way. I shrank in my seat as she waltzed past a white-robed acolyte, snagged a blood-goblet, and began drinking and conversing with other nobles.

Good for you, I suppose, Helg. You managed to reach your destiny. I hope it’s everything you wished for.

I noticed the stature of Demilord Tymon Aldion. The broad-shouldered duke was one of the wealthiest vamps in Skar’s coven, with a tall, lanky woman at his side.

Jinneth’s replacement, I figured.

Then I saw a younger woman I vaguely recognized. Her mask hid her face but her gait, stature, and long black hair made me tilt my head in confusion.

“Sister Zefyra of the Chained Sisters,” Skar pointed out. “Iron Sister Keffa’s ambassador for this event.”

I gasped. “Zefyra was turned?” Last I’d seen, her skin was hale and flush, not pale and dead.

“By Cordea of the North Mines.” Skar’s brow twitched. “I thought you knew that was happening?”

“I guess I did. Just didn’t know it would happen so soon.”

“Her recovery took months. This is her first public outing.”

I became lost in my thoughts. Directly in front of our dais, just below the lip of the platform, the closest members of Skar’s court took their seats.

Vallan was one of them, wearing battle-gear of black and red, looking incredibly intimidating as he towered over everyone.

Another was Lord Aldion with his mistress plopping down on his knee.

A third was a man I did not recognize, sitting directly to Skar’s left and glancing over his shoulder with an appreciative nod to Lord Ashfen.

Skar leaned into my ear and whispered, “You remember the four-fingered vampire, Baringsten?”

“The one you turned into a human torch for being a spy for Spymistress Mortis? How could I forget?”

“Glintov there is a friend of Baringsten’s. Another assumed spy. He won’t last long.”

My eyes widened. Even with our low voices, Glintov might have been able to hear us if there wasn’t a constant din of conversation flowing through the room.

“If you know he’s a spy, why do you keep him alive?” I hissed.

“To tail him and see what information we can procure from the coward.”

Skar is more diabolical than I even thought.

With some of the important and familiar members of Skar’s court identified, a man I knew better than most made his way into the room with an unsteady gait.

My body stiffened when he walked in, dressed in a fine tunic like the rest of the men but looking like a sickly jester in a court of kings by comparison.

“Antones,” I breathed.