A dog barked from the caves set back into the mountains. The Hounds slept there, and the rest of us had canvas tents like the kind I imagined littered medieval jousting tournaments. There were few humans allowed, mostly personal guards and bloodslaves who traveled with specific tribes. I couldn’t stand the word “bloodslave,” but Constantine only laughed and called me colonial when I mentioned it. He hadn’t met Lucy yet. She’d punch him right in the nose if he called her a bloodslave.

Still, for all its flaws, there was a sharp, delicate beauty to the encampment, like a honed sword. It was silver and filigrees and handcrafted art. And it was blood and death and teeth. No amount of silks and velvets could hide the undercurrents. There were secrets here, and hunger and passionate affairs and bitter feuds. It was like living in a boiling iron cauldron set over a raging fire.

Sometimes the steam had to escape or the whole pot would explode.

Like right now.

I don’t know who started it. I only saw a vampire, his blond-white hair straight and pale as moonlight, on the path where it branches into a crossroad. He was from the Joiik family, one of the oldest vampire lineages on the Raktapa Council. Coming from the other direction was a vampire I didn’t recognize, dressed in a prim tweed skirt and a white blouse. She spat out a curse and launched at his head, fangs flashing.

She never made contact.

A crossbow bolt split the air and cleaved her heart, turning her to ash. A second bolt caught the Joiik, because he’d reached for his weapon. If he’d stayed still and trusted the Blood Moon secret guard to protect him, he wouldn’t have been hit. Now he was dust.

It happened so fast, I barely had time to squeak. Constantine gripped my elbow, fingers digging painfully into my skin. He was holding me back, protecting me. And I was suddenly remembering that hundreds of years ago, Blood Moons were places of trials by combat and executions.

“Don’t move,” he murmured.

There were vampire tribes here from all over the world, each with its own customs and traditions and histories. Not to mention feuds. It took a special kind of guard to keep order in a place like this; a guard no one had ever seen and couldn’t accurately describe. Even Madame Veronique, who was nearly a thousand years old, couldn’t tell us who they were or even what they looked like. We only knew some of them must be human since the crossbow bolts apparently came during the day as well. They kept to the trees and the shadows, constantly circling, constantly watching. No one was exempt from their justice. Not princess, not council; only the queen.

The back of my neck prickled. “Are they gone?”

Constantine’s violet eyes flickered back and forth. “Never, but the danger’s past I think.”

A Joiik woman with long blond braids rushed to the ashes under the leather tunic, marked with a Thor’s hammer design. She keened loudly, brokenly. The sounds made the back of my throat hurt.

Constantine’s hand nudged me and we moved backward, out of the way. “Best get you home,” he said.

We weren’t far when Bruno stepped in front of me. “The Chandramaa guard?”

I nodded mutely.

“Are you all right?”

I nodded again. “Yes.”

He gave Constantine a long, hard look. Bruno looked just like the old biker he was: bald, covered in tattoos, and burly as an oak tree. Nothing intimidated him. He scowled at me. “Lass, do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

They knew about Kieran. And if they knew about him, then he must be in serious condition. I hadn’t meant to drink so near his jugular. He was dying. The guy who’d saved my life was dying. My boyfriend was dying. “I—”

“Your parents are worried sick,” Bruno continued, oblivious to my inner nervous breakdown. “This isn’t the time to be breaking curfew.” He spoke softly into his walkie-talkie, then pointed to the blue tent painted with the Drake silver dragon and the Latin motto underneath: “Nox noctis, nostra domina,” which translated roughly to “Night, our mistress.”

“On with ye,” Bruno directed.

I turned to Constantine, slightly embarrassed that I was being treated like a naughty child. I was a vampire princess, as everyone insisted on reminding me. So shouldn’t I have a little power over my own life? I bristled. Constantine winked as if he knew what I was thinking, as if it was our own private joke.

Dawn hadn’t arrived yet but the darkness was going gray, glinting on silver paint on the tents and on the gold banners. I felt like water, uncontainable, soft, and everywhere at once, as if even my skin couldn’t hold me in. My eyelids fluttered, closed. Constantine took a step closer, and Bruno elbowed him back.

“I’ve got her,” he said, his Scottish brogue thicker than usual. He picked me up and carried me into the family tent muttering, “Bloody English.”

Chapter 3

NICHOLAS

We were cutting it close.

We would have gone back to the farmhouse but dawn was unfolding and we were already in the mountains, running from the smoke and rubble of a collapsed ghost town and a breed of vampire we’d had no idea even existed. Quinn and Connor were slowing down, each holding up Lucy’s cousin Christabel, who was dragging her feet so heavily she left a trail in the dirt. She’d been a vampire for barely a week, and she was already embroiled in politics and assassinations. I’d been a vampire for a year and a half now, and I wasn’t much better equipped. My boots felt as if they were weighed down with rocks. I nearly tripped on a tree root.