Page 107 of The Guardian's Curse

“Enjoy,” Elliott said. He raised his glass. “To the might of the Casteron!”

There was a halfhearted cheer from the crowd, then the music resumed. Huge sprays of dark red roses upon gold pedestals were arranged around the dais, covering the broken tile where her incomplete sigils lay. People approached, offering introductions and congratulations to Elliott upon his ascension. Some sounded sincere, but a few clearly spoke with obligatory politeness.

Shoshanna kept herself occupied by taking tiny sips of her champagne. Though it was tempting to gulp down the bubbly wine and make it through tonight in a drunken haze, she wanted her wits sharp. She glanced up at Elliott. “They’re going to know you’re enthralling us.”

His hand slid down to grip hers, but his fingers dug painfully into the fleshy pad between her thumb and forefinger. “There are ears everywhere, Shoshanna,” he said. “Sit here and be a silent beauty until you’re told otherwise.”

She drew a breath to argue, but the words dried up on her tongue. Surely people would figure out eventually that he had two unwilling slaves, not two eager companions.

The night passed in a blur of simpering vampires greeting Elliott. Eventually, a human woman presented herself, and Elliott drank deep from her as she moaned lasciviously.

He had just sent the woozy woman on her way when a shout of protest rippled through the crowd. “You are not welcome!” a woman’s voice shouted.

She heard a chorus of inhuman snarls, then a male voice shouting, “Stop!”

A broad male stepped onto the dais with her, though he positioned himself in front of Elliott. “Sir, we will remove you.”

“What is this?” Elliott demanded.

“Interlopers from Auberon,” the man said.

Her heart soared. Was this it?

“Who let them in?” Elliott said.

“I don’t know,” he said. “They didn’t come in the front door. One of them says he’s here to issue a challenge to you.”

Her jaw dropped, and she squinted to see Elliott’s face. His voice took on a whiny edge of indignation. “They can’t do that. They’re not Casteron.”

“Where is Elliott McAvoy?” a familiar voice boomed, clipped with a faint accent. Her body warmed, and she felt the familiar tug on her hand as their bond resonated. She knew that voice, and the stubborn ferocity behind it.

“What are you doing here?” Elliott snapped. “This is a private party. Leave while you still can.”

“I am here to challenge you,” Alistair announced, his voice carrying in the quiet room. “Prove that you are worthy to hold the title of Baron.”

“Only the Casteron can challenge me,” Elliott replied.

Alistair chuckled, a smug sound that made her smile. “I’m afraid not. Your laws allow for any vampire to make a challenge.”

“And who are you?”

A gasp rippled through the crowd, and she knew he had uncovered his face. She heard a few what the fuck? from the gathered vampires. “Alistair Thorne,” he replied. “Soon to be Baron Alistair Thorne.”

“Jesus, what are you?”

“Your executioner,” Alistair replied. “Unless you’d like to concede before I kill you.”

“I don’t think so,” Elliott said. He shed his coat and tossed it into Shoshanna’s lap. He glanced at Ruby. “Be ready to aim her.”

“Ah, Mr. McAvoy,” Alistair said. “As the challenger, I will choose the weapon. We will fight with our hands, and only our hands. Further treachery with the witch will be an act of dishonor.”

Elliott was silent for a moment. “Can he do that?” he asked quietly.

“He can,” Nordan said. His amusement was barely concealed. “You can refuse, but if he will not renegotiate, you forfeit the throne.”

“I accept,” Elliott said loudly. He stepped down from the dais. “And when I kill you, would you prefer your head to be thrown in the garbage or returned to your Elder?”

Alistair laughed. “You can do whatever you like with it. I’m here for one thing only.” Again, she heard the scraping of furniture as the vampires made way for a bloody fight. For the first time, she was grateful for her poor vision. Though she was thankful Alistair was here, she didn’t want to see him hurt.

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