They’d been running for ten minutes when Ibarra slowed. He turned in a circle, his body tense, as if he were combing the silent tunnels for sound.
“They aren’t following us.” His body relaxed somewhat. “Whoever they are.”
“Do you think it’s the Curia?”
Ibarra’s body jerked. “You know about them?”
“I’m the Prince’s pet, remember? I hear things.”
Ibarra swore in Basque. “If the Curia are here, the devil take us all.”
Raven ruminated on that for a moment.
Then, without warning, she found herself flying through the air.
Something reached out to catch her.
Still surrounded by darkness, she was confused. Cursing and scuffling could be heard close by.
Raven was placed on her feet, and the person who’d caught her withdrew.
“You should have stayed in Rome.” An Irish-accented voice spoke. “You’re the most unlucky human I’ve ever met.”
“Aoibhe.” Raven’s voice was shaky.
The vampyre sniffed in response.
“William?” Raven groped for him in the darkness.
A familiar hand stroked her face. “Are you injured?”
She grabbed his hand. “There are Curia soldiers in the tunnel. A group of vampyres ran past us, saying they’d been attacked.”
“Is that true?” The Prince seemed to turn away from her.
“True.” Ibarra groaned, his voice coming from the ground.
“How many?”
“I didn’t stay to count them,” Ibarra retorted.
“Captain Borek, take your men and continue into the tunnel. If you encounter Curia soldiers, engage them. Send one of your men back to report your position,” the Prince commanded.
“Yes, sir,” Borek replied.
Raven heard footsteps pass, echoing in the tunnel.
“Aoibhe, escort the traitor to the council chamber. If either of you tries to escape, I’ll rip your heads off.” The Prince’s calm tone belied the threat in his words.
He pulled Raven against his chest and flew with her through the tunnel.
Chapter Forty-Nine
“YOU TOUCHED WHAT IS MINE.” The Prince was quiet, but loud enough to be heard in the great council chamber.
Ibarra stood before the throne, flanked by ten soldiers.
At the Prince’s behest, Raven sat in a chair to his right, watching the politics of reality unfold.
The Basque spat on the ground. “You executed me.”
“It seems you found your head.” The Prince’s gaze flickered to Aoibhe. “Or rather, someone found it for you.
“Ibarra of the Euskaldunak, did you kill a policeman and suspend his body in the Loggia dei Lanzi?”
“Yes.”
“Did Aoibhe assist you?”
Ibarra grimaced. “I acted alone.”
“You lie. You have committed treason against the principality of Florence, and you have violated our treaty with the Curia. For your punishment, you are to be held until you can be delivered to them. Unlike mine, their execution will no doubt be successful.”
Ibarra took a step forward, but was restrained by a soldier. “Execute me now. Death at your hand would at least be honorable.”
The Prince looked incredulous. “After betraying the principality that protected you for so many years, you beg for an honorable death?”
“I beg for nothing. I was loyal.” Ibarra pushed the soldier aside. “It was Lorenzo and Niccolò who betrayed you and made me a scapegoat.”
“You failed in your duties as head of security and were executed accordingly. Now, because Aoibhe returned your head, I must have you executed again.” The Prince laid heavy emphasis on the last word. “You brought the Curia here with your anarchic act. You will endure their wrath. And Aoibhe of Hibernia, who betrayed the principality in assisting you, will join you.”
The Prince nodded at the soldiers amidst Aoibhe’s loud and vocal protests. “We had an agreement! You gave me your word!”
The Prince’s voice was thunderous. “You betrayed me by allying yourself with a traitor.”
A solider took hold of Ibarra’s arm, and Ibarra pushed him aside. “You know what they will do to us. You’d deliver us to our enemies to be tortured?”
“Killing a policeman and hanging him in a public square attracted the attention of the Curia. You live by the sword, you must be prepared to die by the sword.” The Prince’s gray eyes glittered.
“I captured the Venetian who tried to end your life. I served Florence with honor!”
“Save your curriculum vitae for the Curia inquisition.”
Ibarra snarled and ran toward Raven, teeth bared.
In a movement so swift it was a blur, the Prince blocked Ibarra’s path. He swung his right arm and struck Ibarra in the chest.
Ibarra went flying backward, several feet in the air, until he came crashing to the stone floor near the entrance to the chamber. He lay on the floor, unmoving.
“The next one who attempts to touch my pet will be destroyed.” The Prince turned his threatening gaze on Aoibhe, who appeared ready to strike. “I am an old one, son of the Roman himself. I have strength and abilities you can only imagine. Oppose me at your peril.”
Silence filled the council chamber at the Prince’s revelation; the soldiers gazed at him in shock.
He adjusted his robe and regained his throne. “Take the traitors to the holding cells and await further instructions.”