Who did that voice belong to? It was cold and comforting at the same time. And... familiar. Her eyes flicked to the silhouette at the entrance of the alcove. Amnis swirled around the voice, filling the small niche.

“Ziri.” Carwyn’s voice was cautious, but she recognized the hint of optimism.

“This is a surprise. I did not see her making a move for weeks. Lorenzo has not pleased her by appearing like this.”

“What are you—”

“We must get her out of here. Her rage will not be contained for long. Come, Mariposa.”

Her eyes darted to his when he spoke her childhood name. Ziri stepped toward her, and she could finally make out his eyes. The whites shone in his dark face. Despite her shock and anger, she blinked. The vampire’s irises were a pure, deep black.

“Who are you?”

He held out a hand, and she felt the whisper of air stroke across her cheek.

“I am Ziri, and if you allow it, I will call you my friend.”

Carwyn had darted out of the alcove to go look for Emil Conti. Ziri swept Beatrice down a dark hall that led outside. Once out of the suffocating walls of the castle, the wind vampire picked her up and flew her to the car. He tucked her into the backseat and waited outside for the priest.

Beatrice blinked, as if coming out of a dream. What was she doing? They had taken her husband! She was just about to shove her way out of the car when the door opened and Carwyn slipped in, grasping her wrists the minute they raised to shove him back.

“Ah-ah. Calm yourself, Beatrice De Novo. Now is the time to listen.”

She had found her voice. “They took him. Let me go!”

“No.” He let go of one arm to pound on the divider, and the car jerked forward. Beatrice reached over and punched him in the jaw.

“Let go of me, damn you!”

He grabbed her wrists again. “Beatrice, look at me.”

She was shaking with anger.

“Beatrice, you need to understand that Gio is in no mortal danger right now.”

Her fangs descended and she tasted blood in her mouth. “You say that when he was taken by that bitch? By that backstabbing bitch? With Lorenzo there? With—”

“With hundreds of witnesses watching her take him. He is, right now, a political prisoner. And no one knows anything. There are factions within factions that will all try to manipulate this situation to their own advantage. She has accused him, but everyone knows that she’ll lie if it suits her purposes.”

Her face fell. “But—”

“Whatever you’re about to tell me, don’t. Right now, your husband is a bargaining piece to Livia. He is safe.” Carwyn locked his eyes with hers. “Do you understand? He is safe. No harm will come to him as her prisoner. At least not right now. She won’t make any rash moves; she’s too smart for that.”

The reality of the situation began to take hold, and Beatrice felt the rage slipping away. In its place was a bone-deep pain. Carwyn must have caught the shift, because he let go of her wrists and pulled her into his arms. She shook with suppressed grief as the dark car made the twisted journey back to Rome.

When they pulled up to the house by the Pantheon, Ziri was already waiting by the gate. Carwyn paid the driver and the black car sped away. They stepped through the green door and the smell of cardamom hit Beatrice’s nose.

“Tenzin!” she cried into the courtyard and felt the rush of wind as Tenzin sped to her.

“What has happened?” Small arms encircled her, embracing and lifting her when she stumbled. “What has happened tonight? Where is Gio?”

Ziri stepped into the courtyard. “Livia arrested him. It was unexpected.”

Beatrice felt Carwyn on one side, holding her, when Tenzin dropped her arms. Her hiss was vicious. “What? That arrogant dog took my boy? I will kill her!”

“Lorenzo,” Beatrice muttered as they made their way into the silent house. “She’s the one helping Lorenzo.”

Tenzin said, “I know.”

“How?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past few weeks? It doesn’t actually take me that long to get across the ocean.”

Beatrice heard Ziri’s low chuckle as they made their way up the stairs, careful to keep silent as they walked to the library so they wouldn’t wake Ben.

“What am I going to tell Ben?” she whispered. As tough as Ben pretended to be, she knew he adored Giovanni. Depended on him. Giovanni was the constant. Nothing could harm him. She felt frozen by grief and confusion.

“Shh, my girl,” Tenzin whispered. “I will get him back. Do you hear me?”

“They took him. How could they take him?”

“With trickery and surprise. That is how.” Tenzin’s arm slipped around her waist. “But they have lost the surprise, and no one will hold him for long.”

Dawn was close when the four of them settled into the library. Beatrice collapsed on the couch. Carwyn sat next to her. Ziri and Tenzin both stood by the cold fireplace. Beatrice was reminded of the fireplace in the tower that Giovanni had lit. Other memories assaulted her. The warm grasp of his hands. His burning kiss. Would that be her last memory of him? The last time he touched her?

“Whatever dark, depressing thoughts you are entertaining, B, snap out of them.” Carwyn’s voice was brusque and, surprisingly, exactly what she needed to hear. “Taking political prisoners is commonplace in our world. She won’t hurt him. She might torture him, but it won’t be anything he hasn’t endured before.