Page 47 of Eternal Surrender

Marcus looked away, unsure how to placate me.

This was one of Belshazzar’s largest subterranean chambers, reserved only for the elite, all mortals forbidden unless expressly authorized by the elders for occasions such as this, tonight’s ruling in our vampire court.

But right now my mind was far from this place.

Marcus admired my fresh clothes that Zachary had bought for me. “They fit you well,” he said.

I tugged on the pinstripe shirt. “You do realize Jadeon dressed like this.”

Marcus looked stunned. “I don’t pretend to understand any of this, but I know it’s you, Orpheus, and this is your home.”

“My sanctuary.”

He seemed to take comfort in that.

My gaze found the room again. “Not really in the mood.”

“What goes on in here is never about us,” he said. “You always insisted on presiding.”

“Not today.”

Penthea, the tall, slender nightwalker who managed the bar, took the seat on Marcus’s left. Zachary stood nearby, waiting on his master’s next order.

“You know why you’re here?” Marcus addressed Anaïs, gesturing for her to speak.

Anaïs looked to Penthea for guidance, though Penthea ignored her, hinting the girl was to look at Marcus.

“It’s five years to the day,” Anaïs began, “that I swore allegiance to Belshazzar’s.”

Marcus leaned forward. “And what were you promised?”

“If I served loyally, I’d be rewarded.”

“And in your opinion, have you fulfilled your part?” he asked.

Anaïs froze.

“Answer the question,” Penthea commanded.

“I believe so. Yes, mistress,” said Anaïs.

Marcus leaned over to Penthea. “Covent Garden?”

“We found Anaïs begging,” said Penthea.

“She was only eighteen,” Marcus said, remembering. “So, today we decide.”

Anaïs’s seemed fascinated with me, and her attention was making me uncomfortable.

“She’s your Gothica?” Marcus asked Penthea. “Anything you’d like to add?”

Penthea gave a bored sigh. “Anaïs has served me well.”

Anaïs reacted to her name being spoken as though only now understanding what today was, realizing the door was closing on her once unremarkable life where days, weeks and years had passed ordinarily. As much as it can for a Gothica.

Marcus reached into Anaïs’s thoughts. “Come here.”

She stepped forward, warily.