"It's Regalado. He's fighting to win the leadership of the vampires. I cannot leave my grandfather to face him alone. You are safe; you see the sun has risen, and you must go."
Before she could protest further, he pushed her up against the wall, his fingers clamping her shoulders through the thin fabric of her runic. His mouth descended to hers, hungry and warm, apology and desire and farewell all mixed in with sensual lips and a strong, slick tongue.
She kissed him back for a moment, her breath rushing between them; then she tugged her mouth away. "But you don't kill vampires."
"I know. But even I have some honor." He kissed her again, fitting his mouth back to hers, then closed his eyes and tipped his forehead to hers. Drew in a deep breath. "Be safe. Now go."
He shoved her out the door, slamming it closed behind her.
The sky was pink and orange, just the way she'd hoped it would have been hours before. She blinked in the bright light and turned to look back.
She wanted to go in. God, she wanted to go back in there.
But she'd done the right thing.
For all she knew… Max was dead by now.
And she hoped Sebastian would not soon follow.
Yet, she could not leave. She couldn't just walk away, find a hack, and go back to the villa.
She stood on the dew-damp grass, frozen like stone.
Chapter 27
In Which Maximilian Takes on an Unwelcome Debt
Max was ready.
He was bloody damn tired, could hardly see straight.
He'd watched Victoria leave with Vioget, and knew that for all his shortcomings, he wasn't about to let anything happen to her. He'd get her out safely.
And she'd carry on. She'd be as formidable a leader as Eustacia.
The vampire reared over him, where Max had finally collapsed on the floor, the broken chair leg he'd been using as a stake spinning out of his grip. The undead's fingers were curled with menace, tipped with lethal claws, and his gleaming fangs curved like yellow sabers.
Lilith would have no one to torment, now that Max would be gone. The thought made his mouth twitch with wry humor, and he closed his eyes, ready.
But the pain never came.
He opened his eyes to find Vioget standing over him, stake in hand. He reached down to pull him to his feet as the vampires battled onstage behind him. Max shook off his grip. "Victoria?"
"She's safe. Outside."
A warning shout drew their attention as two vampires, fighting tooth and nail, rolled toward them. "Go," Sebastian said; but Max was already moving toward the wings, toward escape. He turned back.
"I bear you no gratitude for this, Vioget."
"Which is precisely why I did it. I told Victoria it mattered not to me whether you live or die."
Max stopped, looking at him from around the edge of a scorched curtain. "Then why not let me out of my misery? Why play the hero? It so goes against your grain."
"I didn't do it for you. I did it for her." And Sebastian turned back to the battle behind him.
When the door to the theater opened and Max came out, squinting in the bright light, Victoria could only stare.
He stopped when he saw her. "You're still here."
Victoria took one step toward him. They stood there in the long shadows cast by the trees and sun just rising above the horizon.
She didn't know what to say. He'd killed her aunt, yet they'd fought side by side. He'd destroyed Akvan's Obelisk, and helped her to escape. She'd walked away, leaving him to die.
"How—"
"It's not important." He stood with his hands on his hips, battered and clearly exhausted. "I told you your vengeance would be moot—I never expected to walk away from the stage once I'd swung that sword."
"But you did. I saved you."
"And so I have yet another reason to be grateful to you, is that it? You could not be more wrong."
"Surely there was another way."
He lifted his eyes. "In order to be there to destroy the obelisk at the precise moment it could be destroyed, I had to prove I was trustworthy, down to doing the most abhorrent thing imaginable. There was no other way, Victoria."
Silence stretched, long and ugly. The gentle lift of a breeze brushed her cheek, and Victoria saw that the shadows had already begun to shorten.
"You said Lilith would release you from her thrall if you joined the Tutela."
His laugh was short, his words bitter. "You don't think I believed that, did you? She said it, certainly, but I didn't really believe her. I suppose there is a hope…" He laughed again. "No, of course not. And it was moot, as I didn't expect to live whether I succeeded in destroying the obelisk or not."
They stared at each other, and Max came toward her, reaching out to grip her shoulders. Her messy braid caught under his fingers, pulling tight as she looked up at him. "You will never forgive me for what I did to your aunt, and I will never forgive you for forcing me to live. Do you think I can ever forget what I did?"
She pulled away, and he stepped back as though he'd been burned. Then he reached under his shredded shirt for a moment. When his hands came back out, he offered her something. His vis bulla.
"No, Max."
"Yes. It's done. I'm done."
"You can't."
He was angry now. "Do you think I can ever face the Consilium again after this? I cannot even think of living with myself. I killed my mentor, my teacher, my friend. Your aunt." His eyes glistened and he looked away.
"Max."
"You'll have Wayren, Kritanu, and the others. Perhaps even Sebastian, if he makes it out of there alive. You don't need someone whose loyalty will be forever questioned. For God's sake, think of the Consilium and its future, not your emotions. Good-bye, Victoria. Andare con Dio."
For the second time she let him go. Watched him walk away, into the dawn, tall, dark, and alone.
Chapter 28
A Bittersweet Gift
The next morning, a day after she'd emerged from the opera theater and watched Max walk away, a small package arrived for Victoria. Inside was a folded piece of silk and a note.
I found this after the battle was over and thought you would want to have it. Perhaps it will replace the one taken from you, for though I searched, I couldn't find it. Have a care, for I do not know when we will meet again. S.
Inside the silk was her aunt's vis bulla.
Epilogue
In Which Wayren Mollifies Illa Gardella
"From the moment she stepped foot in Rome, your aunt knew she would not leave it again."
Victoria and Wayren were sitting in the tiny parlor at her villa. Victoria had moved beyond her initial shock in the day since she'd emerged from the opera theater.
So many things had happened, and she'd managed to control the grief and anger and the overwhelming sense of being lost. Adrift and aimless.
She'd accepted the challenge of the vast, ominous responsibility ahead and was ready for it. Yes, she grieved. It seemed like only yesterday that she'd had that same hollow feeling as with the death of Phillip… but she'd managed it, just as she would manage this.
She had to. She was a Venator.
She was Ilia Gardella.
"It was a prophecy from long ago, from Lady Rosamund. Eustacia knew it well, but she did not know exactly what it meant until it happened. 'The golden age of the Venator will find rest at the foot of Rome' is the accurate translation. It makes sense now, for your aunt was truly the golden Venator, Victoria, and you will follow in her footsteps."