Sweep of the Heart (Innkeeper Chronicles #5)(29)

The Holy Anocracy delegation on my left didn’t look any less menacing. The vampire society consisted of Houses, some large, some small, each with their own military force and territory. This delegation came from House Meer, an aggressive, formidable House with far-reaching ambitions.

House Meer and House Krahr, into which my sister was going to marry, were on the verge of becoming sworn enemies. Over the last few years House Krahr had grown in power, and House Meer was trying to keep them in check. During the Nexus peace summit, House Meer sent three knights to torpedo the peace talks, and Sean, in his role as Turan Adin, killed them in about two seconds, scaring the hell out of everyone. Very few people knew about Sean’s alter ego, so I didn’t worry about him being recognized, but the possibility did occur to me.

House Meer was not a fan of humans, inns, or me. The twenty of them loomed in their syn-armor like a solid block of darkness. Their candidate, a statuesque female knight with platinum blonde hair and the remarkably even skin tone particular to vampires, was sneering so much, her face was in danger of becoming stuck like that.

The fewer opportunities we gave House Meer and the otrokars, the better, which was why we put the Kai and oomboles in the second row as a barrier between them and everyone else.

The third row featured the two delegations from opposite ends of the Seven Star Dominion. They were the most likely to mind their manners, simply because they were representing the Dominion, but like all Dominion diplomats, they were also prone to murder, which was why we put the Temple of Desire and Donkamins in the fourth row to throw everyone off balance. Gaston referred to this strategy as eye candy and eye scary, and it seemed to be working.

The Temple of Desire was missing its candidate. According to their representative, Lady Wexyn Dion-Dian was indisposed after the transit and would join us shortly. I had glimpsed her only briefly. She rode in on an antigravity palanquin, hidden behind translucent curtains, a full fifteen minutes ahead of her scheduled time, and I passed her procession in the hallway as Sean led them to their quarters. Her attendants, both male and female, were also shrouded in shimmering diaphanous fabric that moved in the slightest breeze, delicately hinting that under all those gossamer-thin layers lay sexy bodies and amazing beauty. The Temple had elevated the skill of suggestion to a fine art.

The fifth row, behind the Temple and Donkamins, contained the feline Higgra and the elegant Gaheas, humanoid, with skin the color of amber and very long dark violet hair that reached to their knees. Of all the delegations, the Gaheas were the most striking. They looked breathtakingly beautiful, moved like flowing water, and spoke in melodious voices. They had also perfected psionic warfare and could melt a sapient mind with a focused thought. The bejeweled tiaras on their heads weren’t there for decoration.

The last row held more troublemakers. Murder Beaks were on the right, closest to Sean. Avian, flightless, and armed with huge beaks and powerful clawed feet, this species would’ve given Earth’s prehistoric Terror Birds a run for their money. They had a strong prey drive and killed for sport. Their name for themselves translated as Murder Beaks, and they insisted on the literal translation so the entire galaxy would know of their predatory awesomeness. Fortunately, they had tried to invade the Gaheas, who were their immediate neighbors in space. The Murder Beaks knew exactly what a focused mind wave could do to their brains. They minded their beaks and talons.

Finally, across from the Murder Beaks, the Dushegubs were a dark tangle of roots and limbs, shrouded in foliage, as if some nightmarish forest had magically sprouted in the corner of the room. They had large begonia-looking leaves, purple at the edges and brilliant blue in the middle, splattered with random patterns of the brightest Pepto-Bismol pink. Sean was standing across from them, and Tony had parked himself on the side, just in case they wanted to try anything. The gorgeous woman who was their candidate perched on a large Dushegub root like some dryad.

It was a lot. The variety was dazzling and confusing, but mostly very dangerous and anxiety-inducing.

The wall behind Sean parted, forming a tunnel. What was he doing?

Oh.

A huge lupine shape emerged from the tunnel and sat on his haunches by Sean. Sean lowered his hand. Gorvar sniffed his fingers and rubbed his shaggy cheek against Sean’s hand.

At my feet, Beast let out a quiet growl, just in case the oversized wolf decided to run across the ballroom and attack me.

A low trumpet sounded. Gaston cleared his throat, his voice amplified by a microphone and spilling from the hidden speakers. We needed a Master of Ceremonies, and he had enthusiastically volunteered.

“Her Grace, Caldenia ka ret Magren,” Gaston announced in a deep resonant voice. His High Galactic was excellent even without the translator. “Letere Olivione, Dystim Adrolo, She Who Controls Fate, the Light of the Midnight Sun.”

Caldenia walked into the room. She wore a magnificent formal gown, deep green accented with silver. An emerald tiara crowned her spectacular updo. Her makeup was flawless.

The ballroom went silent as a tomb.

Her Grace had taken three steps forward when her eyes finally registered the glowing symbols of the Dominion on the arched ceiling above the throne. For a fraction of a second, Caldenia froze. It lasted a mere heartbeat, and I committed it to memory, because it would likely be the first and last time I saw Her Grace lose it.

Our stares connected. I tried to warn you.

The miniscule moment of shock ended. She glided forward, a calm smile on her face.