She hated how her breath caught when he said her name, with a rare need for her to listen to him.
The dark leaves near their feet mirrored the shade of his eyes. “The last time the dean called a House Council meeting, it was the night your parents were killed. I attended with Silia. This isn’t anything good. Be on guard.”
Her shoulders straightened, her palms growing slick.
Killed.
Kidan didn’t ask for more. She shuddered to think how details of their deaths would break her. Not knowing was safe. Better. Aunt Silia’s morbid journal entered her mind after many weeks—Uxlay has turned on House Adane. Kidan’s clues hadonly led her to the 13th as the obvious threat. Could it have been one of them that killed her parents?
Don’t think about it, she told herself firmly, and turned from Susenyos.
At the entrance to Faris House, they were checked by two Sicions—soldiers from Uxlay’s elite army—for any traces of silver. Susenyos stretched out his arms, letting them pat him down. A hidden smile played on his lips. No one checked the roof of his mouth. His hidden silver nail.
Once cleared, they traveled the carpeted hallway, grand mirrors and portraits leading them into a high-ceilinged foyer. Past a door the color of reflective cedar, at a giant oval table carved in the shape of the African continent, eleven people occupied a seat each. Behind them, solemn as night towers, stood their vampire companions.
Behind Dean Faris and her companion, graying men and women sat on a raised platform, their finger bone chains were long and polished white, forming a belt around their figureless robes.
Kidan recognized the Mot Zebeya on the far left from Sara Makary’s vampire transformation ceremony. He’d once approached GK and Kidan, offering a reading, a premonition of when she’d die.
GK’s words came to her, making her eyes sting.
She doesn’t want one, but I’m looking after her.
And even though she didn’t know where he was, Kidan sensed GK was still looking after her. Every time she heard a wisp of his voice, and the jingle of finger bones, she knew he was watching, waiting for her to bring him home and make him human.
Kidan approached the empty carved chair and sat down. It was uncomfortable and instantly swallowed her whole. She scooted to the edge and made her spine straight, as house masters from Delarus and Makary sneered at her. Yusef and Slen were here too. Relief coursed through her at their familiar faces.
Slen sat in the House Qaros seat while Yusef stood by his great-aunt’s side as next in line. The tension in Kidan’s shoulders eased a little. Slen gave her a small nod while Yusef smiled broadly.
On the table before Kidan, the map of Ethiopia was carved into the rich wood. All around, countries the original twelve houses had descended from glistened… red. Susenyos moved forward and slit his wrist, letting his blood pour into the hollowed-out wood. Once it was filled, he retreated.
“Fellow house masters,” the dean began firmly. She wore the sigil of Faris House, a black bird with a silver eye. “Thank you all for coming. I also extend my greetings to the Mot Zebeyas, Guards of Death, keepers of our laws, for ensuring the fair and honest procedure of this meeting.”
One by one, a chorus of bones sang as the elderly Mot Zebeyas bowed their heads in acknowledgment. Taken into the monastery as children, the Mot Zebeyas were free from the politics of the houses, untainted by family loyalty. It served Uxlay well but it was still a terrible, lonely fate. GK didn’t just survive the absence of his blood relatives, he had emerged from it kind and unbroken. It made Kidan wonder if the reason for all her pain and anger was knowing the love of a family. Yet without it, she didn’t know how to exist.
“Our House Council meetings are run with pure honesty,” the dean continued. “If any of you protest to bearing the truth, please stand.”
Kidan sent a quizzical look to Susenyos, who only tightened his jaw. Though the members appeared uncomfortable, none rose from their chair.
“Very well,” the dean announced, and motioned with her hand.
Professor Andreyas, timeless with his mahogany skin and cornrowed hair, took long strides around the table, depositing a small wooden box before each member. From the grimaces on the members’ faces, there had to be poison inside.
“Pour the mixture into your dranaic’s blood,” he said.
Kidan grabbed the rich wood and popped it open. A swirl of herbs hit her nostrils and she recoiled. It smelled like June’s weird collection of herbs that she swore healed migraines. Every now and then, June would rub it into Kidan’s temples and within an hour, Kidan could open her eyes without pain. Kidan exhaled, letting the memory pass through her without wincing. Then, when she was ready, Kidan shook the powder and poured it into Susenyos’s blood.
The dean waited until everyone had done so. “If any soul in this room tells a lie, their house mixture will turn black. That is the law set within my house at the moment.”
Kidan whipped her head to Susenyos but he only stared ahead, face hard. She turned to look at the mixture, her stomach twisting.
Being on guard was an understatement. There was no room for lies in this place.
Yusef’s great-aunt was the oldest at the table, coarse gray hair reaching theshawl draped over her shoulders. The Art House sigil of the blue-flamed woman sparkled on the dark scarf.
Yusra Umil spoke slowly, an accent to her tone. “Who died this time? You only call these meetings then.”
“That is not the only issue. We have children at the table.” A well-dressed man from Delarus House glared at Slen, then Kidan and Yusef. “Why are they here?”