will not be so compliant in the event of a similar incident.’ He looked pointedly at me. ‘But he is not our problem. Lee is.’ He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table, flicking his hair back behind his shoulders. ‘Lee cannot make a move yet. He has direct orders from the PM not to do anything to threaten national security – he is afraid that any attempt on our lives will result in retaliation and the consequent loss of innocent life.’
Cain, who had looked just as bored as I was, sat bolt up, a spark of alarm in his voice as he spoke. ‘It wouldn’t though, would it?’
Father shook his head.
Eaglen continued, pointing in Cain’s direction. ‘Ah, but we’re better off letting them think that, because as long as we do, Lee won’t do anything. To disobey that order would end his career.’
‘And no job, no power,’ I interjected, following his train of thought.
‘Exactly, young Prince!’ he exclaimed, turning his crooked left forefinger to me. ‘We must remember that Lee doesn’t just want his daughter back, he wants to bring about our downfall.’ That was no secret. Ever since the current government had come to power just over three years ago, Lee had made his intentions towards us quite clear. ‘But he is fully aware that bullets and guns won’t achieve that. So he needs the hunters and the rogues. But the hunters will not liaise with him unless he has power, influence and money.’
Or access to the taxpayer’s money, I thought.
‘The Prime Minister’s orders are to not intervene unless we make any threat or show of violence. If we do, Lee will be ready.’ A blanket of silence descended upon the room and wrapped itself around the table. ‘We need to avoid confrontation at all costs. We cannot kill the girl or force her to turn and we cannot threaten Lee or his government, and presumably the hunters, either.’
‘So what do we do then?’ was Lamair’s uneasy question. I was sure it was one almost every person sat in the room shared.
‘We do nothing and wait until the girl turns of her own free will,’ Father replied. There was a badly hidden gasp of shock. The idea of doing nothing was not one anybody in the room had entertained, clearly. But I gawped at my father for a different reason. If he thought Girly was going to turn anytime soon, he had another thing coming.
‘Quite agreed,’ Eaglen said. ‘We carry on as normal and give them no reason to suspect we know of their plans and no reason to attack. Meanwhile, I suggest we keep Miss Lee as sheltered as possible – there is no need for her to know of the other dimensions with all these prophecy rumours circulating among the Sage. A human knowing the strength of our seers and the Prophecy of the Heroines is the last thing we need. I’m sure the inter-dimensional council will agree to that.’ He waved his hand dismissively. ‘I also propose, Your Majesty, that to ensure her life and her blood are not threatened, you place the King and Crown’s Protection over her.’
Father nodded. ‘It will be implemented with immediate effect.’
‘I think it might be wise not to let her know of that, or about anything to do with her father,’ Sky added. ‘She strikes me as the sort who would act rashly if she knew. Neither do we want to give her any hope of leaving Varnley. She would never turn if that were the case.’
Finally, some sense!
My father cleared his throat. ‘Agreed. Nothing that we spoke of today leaves this room. But for now, this meeting is adjourned until we receive further news.’
I sighed again, exasperated. Chairs scraped and people began to leave the room, bowing and curtseying. Charity skipped off after them, exclaiming excitedly that she was going dress-shopping for the Autumnal Equinox.
‘Try and stay focused next time, Kaspar,’ my father scolded from the opposite side of the room, where he stood waiting for me to join him. Reluctantly, I walked towards him, waiting for the lecture I would undoubtedly receive.
‘Five hours, Father! Five hours and the only thing they could agree on was that Violet should choose to turn. You do know that is not going to happen, don’t you?’
‘That is where you come in, young Prince,’ Eaglen chuckled, limping around the table towards us. I frowned. Eaglen never usually had a limp. He might be old, but he wasn’t frail. Yet he had aged over the summer. His hair was whiter and the fine lines that appeared around the corners of his eyes didn’t disappear when he stopped laughing. ‘And you too, young Earl,’ he added, addressing Fabian who was hanging back, waiting for me. He came forward.
‘You two interact with her on a daily basis, correct?’ my father asked. We nodded.
‘Then you are what she sees of our kind. Give her a reason to believe we are not murderers, which is doubtless what she thinks. Convince her that this is a life she could lead,’ Eaglen instructed. Fabian nodded, almost eager, but I scowled, sceptic.
‘It will take more than that to persuade her to turn.’
Eaglen smiled. ‘When she has lost hope of returning home, it will take far less leverage.’
‘I won’t do it.’
I saw my father’s eyes become black. ‘You will do it. It’s time you took responsibility for your actions—’
‘And accept the consequences of my rash escapades. Yeah, I’ve heard it before. It’s getting old,’ I snapped, turning on my heel and leaving the room. The door slammed behind me with a satisfying bang. But it opened just as quickly again and Eaglen appeared, limping after me.
‘Give it a try,’ he said, patting me on the back. ‘You might have more in common than you think.’
I arched an eyebrow, but said nothing, walking away before I really did get angry. Yet I couldn’t resist one glance back at the aging, but by no means foolish, man, who watched me retreat with a knowing smirk.
What are you playing at, Eaglen? I thought. What do you know this time?
EIGHTEEN
Violet
August 28th brought my eighteenth birthday, and with it little reason for cheer. I had kept my mind well-guarded since I made the connection between the Queen’s death and my father, so nobody realized I was a year older.
I should have been out partying, enjoying my first legal drink of alcohol; instead I was stuck in a living room full of vampires, because sitting up seemed a better option than running the risk of experiencing yet another dream. They were endless, and I didn’t believe Fabian for a single second: they were real. The chill I felt every morning told me that.
Today was August 27th. Which meant tomorrow was the 28th and therefore my eighteenth birthday.
I propped myself up against a couple of pillows, staring blankly into space. I should be out partying, opening presents and having my first legal drink of alcohol, not lying on a bed in the middle of nowhere, afraid to go to sleep.
I glanced at the clock. It was going on 10 o’clock. I didn’t want to sleep. I was too afraid of the nightmares I knew would ensue as soon as I closed my eyes. But I had no choice. My body was screaming at me to close my eyes, disgusted at my self-neglect. I grabbed a tank top and a pair of shorts, changed, and climbed into bed. I tugged the sheets right up to my chin, hoping the warmth would somehow drive away the dreams. I reached over, switched the lamp off and closed my eyes.
But the dream never came. In fact, I fell into a peaceful, unbroken daze until far away I heard bells chiming, resonating in the stillness. Twelve times they rang.
I seemed to be rolling and rolling and I shivered. The air had got cooler. Far, far cooler. Then it went sub-zero.
I scarpered up, screaming at the top of my lungs. My sheets were plastered to my legs and I was soaked: someone or something had poured freezing cold water onto my bed. I heard several suppressed giggles and a low chuckle.