The Kingmakers(72)

“I don't know, ma'am,” he said without moving. “I didn't see him.”

“We have to search the house.” Adele started to rise.

“Stay down!” the soldier snapped. “There are vampires inside.”

“They're dead,” Greyfriar said. “Captain, alert your men to search for Lord Aden.”

Adele nodded to Shirazi, saying, “Find him. And Captain…shoot on sight.”



Rome would do for now.

Lord Aden had a vast estate just outside the Eternal City, and the Romans were notably contentious in their dealings with the Empire. They wouldn't be quick to give him up should the Equatorians locate him and demand his extradition. However, if he feared that the empress had designs on his life, he could move to more isolated locations until the situation was rectified.

He stared down at the moonlight rippling on the Mediterranean far beneath his airship. The lights of Alexandria were a mere glow astern. He envisioned this as some romantic exile from which he would soon return in triumph. Surely it wouldn't take long for the empress to be driven off or even killed, once the truth about the Greyfriar was revealed. Aden would be known as the man who freed the Empire from the rule of the insane Adele. But there was nothing romantic about this exile. He was losing money every minute he wasn't attending his business, and he didn't want to think about what havoc the imperials would cause to his operations in his absence.

Flay had given him several vampires to use as he saw fit, and they had come in handy after all. He had rigged his mansion with American shroud gas in case he needed protection against those things, and it had been a simple matter to trigger the gas in order to hamper Greyfriar's vaunted skills. Then he slipped out of his mansion via a tunnel right under the noses of the empress's toy soldiers.

Imagine the nerve of that little girl to call him a traitor for dealing with vampires. With one standing right beside her. Clearly all the rumors about her had been true. Adele wasn't just unfit to rule; she was irrational.

Lord Aden stepped from the stern gallery into his vast cabin. He closed the glass door behind him and slipped off his heavy overcoat. Options raced through his mind as he stirred a gin and tonic. Equatoria deserved to lose the war, as indeed it would, if he had anything to say about it. The government was incompetent if it couldn't even stand up to an unbalanced girl like Adele. A modern state needed a firm-minded businessman at the helm, not some ancient holdover from an era of divine right. Lord Aden would see to it that things changed in the coming regime. Perhaps it was time for the royal family to be deposed totally. Let men of sense and accomplishment rule the Empire.

Aden felt a blast of wind on his back. Damn latch never held properly. He turned, and in the blowing drapes he saw the figure of a man in the moonlight. Tall. Stern. Long black hair tousled in the gale. His eyes were vampire blue.

Lord Aden took a long drink to steady his nerve. He set the sweating glass on the sideboard. “You must be Gareth.”

“I am.”

“Have you come to kill me?”

“I have.”

“I'm very rich, and I can make you very rich. Would that appeal to you?”

“No.”

Aden held up a hand. “Hear me out. I have influence in many places, some you wouldn't suspect. What if I told you I could make you a king? Would that interest you?”

“No.”

“All right. Fair enough. Then tell me, what do you want?”

“To protect Adele.” Gareth was a blur in the dim light that Aden could barely see. And then Aden saw nothing else.





EMPRESS ADELE AND General Anhalt stood alone on the forefront of a reviewing stand as the men of the Twenty-fifth Suez marched past. The sergeant major shouted a command, and all heads turned toward them. The troopers flowed by, each man in lockstep with the drums, with rifles on their shoulders and bayonets shining in the early-morning sun. Their eyes were lost in the shadows of their khaki helmets. Anhalt held a salute, and Adele watched with a stern look.

Anhalt murmured to her with an offhand air, “Don't worry about Greyfriar. He will be fine.”

“I'm not worried.” Adele sighed.

“You seem worried,” the sirdar said.

“Not about him. He can handle himself.”

“Then what? If I may ask. Please speak freely. No one can hear us over this band.”

Adele glanced at the sharp profile of her most trusted advisor. There was an unwavering sturdiness to him that she valued, now more than ever.

“What,” she asked, “do you think of me as an empress?”

“You are excellent,” Anhalt said without hesitation. “You have become a symbol that is uniting the nation, not just toward the war effort, which you see before you, but as Equatorians. You rule with passion and wisdom. You are thoughtful and just. You are everything I knew you would become.”