William’s eyebrows lifted. “How?”
“As head of intelligence I searched your rooms and found it. I don’t doubt its authenticity. Lorenzo delivered it himself from Rome. But just because you have a connection with the Roman, doesn’t mean he’ll trouble me.”
“You are not Lorenzo,” William observed quietly.
Machiavelli’s eyes glinted. “Indeed, I am not.”
“If you are intelligent enough to avoid a war with the Curia, you should be intelligent enough to avoid one with Rome.”
“The Roman is never seen and communicates only through his lieutenant. I was stunned he’d bother with you.”
“A sign of his regard for me,” William rejoined. “You’ve read the history of Florence. I was young when I killed the old prince, yet who supported my ascension to the throne?”
Niccolò pressed his lips together and said nothing.
William continued. “Neither of us want a war—not with the Curia, not amongst ourselves, and certainly not with Rome.”
“If you expect me to hand over the throne and submit to execution, you’re mad.”
“I’ll decimate the army before I succumb, leaving you vulnerable to an attack. News of my death will spread, and in addition to the Roman, you’ll be dealing with Tarquin of Venice and potentially Simonetta of Umbria. They’ve long envied this territory. Allow me to leave the city.”
“What?” Machiavelli’s tone was sharp.
“I will join the Roman at his court, praise your leadership, and live out my days at his side.”
Niccolò’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll go to Rome, secure his army, and march it here.”
“If I leave Florence voluntarily, I will have abandoned my claim to the throne. You can send messengers to the Roman stating that fact.”
“What assurances have I that he won’t decide to gift you with the principality, since you are his favorite?”
“I would have no reason to return to a city I fled, especially when I can enjoy the luxuries Rome provides.”
Machiavelli stared at William for some time.
“You are an old one. The Roman is older still, but he cannot live forever. If I let you go, there’s a possibility you’ll overthrow him. That would only increase my peril.”
“The Roman has escaped the Curia’s curse. He’s the most powerful vampyre alive and absolutely unassailable.” William leveled cold eyes on his rival. “All the more reason not to anger him.”
Machiavelli drummed his fingers on the armrest, apparently deep in thought.
“All I ask, Niccolò, is that I be allowed safe passage from the city and that Aoibhe be allowed to accompany me.”
She looked over at William, her face an expression of shock.
“Aoibhe is slated for execution,” Machiavelli announced.
“I’d rather speak on my own behalf than have either of you decide my fate.” Aoibhe glared at each vampyre in turn. “Your list of allies grows short, Nick. You have no Consilium and no friends. Send William to the Roman to live out his days, of which there are few, and allow me the role of lieutenant.”
“Lieutenant?” Niccolò sputtered. “You must be mad.”
“Who will guard your back? Stefan?” Aoibhe laughed. “If you exile William, I’m the oldest citizen of this principality, next to you. You need me. Or else you’ll find yourself with a reign the length of Lorenzo’s.”
“On second thought, I’d rather send you to the Roman. You can be a thorn in his flesh, just as you’ve been in mine.”
Aoibhe pursed her lips and exchanged a look with William.
Machiavelli gestured to the sentries who were guarding the two vampyres.
“I had hoped Lorenzo would dispose of you both. Now that he’s failed I have no choice. Executing the former prince may earn me censure from the Roman, but I’m willing to take that risk.
“If the Curia has decided to exert more control over the kingdom of Italy, the Roman will have larger problems to deal with. I will argue that you lost the principality due to carelessness.”
At this, he stood and extended his hand. “I, Niccolò, Prince of Florence, hereby condemn William of Britannia and Aoibhe of Hibernia to death for acts of treason. Execution will take place summarily by the Florentine army.”
“Are we not to be afforded a moment to speak in our own defense?” William challenged him.
Machiavelli regained his seat. “There is no judge or jury here. I’ve already pronounced sentence.”
William turned away from the new prince to address the army, arms spread wide.
“Brothers and sisters, you know me. I am William and I’ve served the principality of Florence since the fourteenth century.
“For hundreds of years, I kept the city safe from the Curia, while other cities fell. I ensured food was plentiful and that ferals and hunters were kept out of the city. I protected us when the Venetians attempted to invade us.
“But years of peace and prosperity are insufficient for someone like Niccolò.” William gestured dismissively toward the throne. “He will only be satisfied with tyranny.
“Look to your swords, brothers and sisters. Look to those who serve with you. Will you give your sword and your life to this interloper? This tyrant who whispers sweet lies in the shadows while the true prince is fighting to keep danger at bay?”
A few echoes of support were heard.