“I agree, and even though Diego and I didn’t see eye-to-eye, the man preferred making love over making war, so I can’t imagine Napoleon would have gone to that extreme to end his life. It makes no sense.”

“Since when does Napoleon make sense? If you ask me, we should just lop off his bloody head and be done with him for once and for all.”

Max grimaced and folded his arms across his chest. “As I already said, Napoleon will not be killed. Isn’t it enough the council finally sided with you? Can’t you curb your hatred of that imbecile just a little?”

“You weren’t there. If memory serves, you were sleeping while he and Simeon were tearing me apart.”

Max drooped in his chair, and he took a slow breath. “I know. I shan’t ever forget when Yannick woke me up that night,” he said, shaking his head. “And no apology I could ever utter would truly express the depth of my shame or undo what they did. It was abhorrent.”

Bennett got up to refill her glass. “You’re right. Your apologies won’t erase it, and I know it wasn’t your fault, Max. You trusted Simeon. You had no idea what he had planned with Napoleon after you began your rest. I would, however, have appreciated it if you’d given them a slightly more severe punishment than a decade of sleep. I’d have to say the other two daywalkers they tortured would have most likely agreed, too. That is, if they had lived.”

“And we’ve put an end to that.”

“Only because the council offered me a seat at the table, not that it does me much good.”

“It does a tremendous amount of good. By taking that chair, daywalkers are now recognized as a coven of sorts. As such, they have the same right to live peacefully as the other covens.”

Bennett huffed out a breath. “My bloody chair may as well have a tray table attached to it for all the good it does me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Max barked. “You had every opportunity to announce you were their matriarch, yet you refused.”

“Because I don’t want the job.”

“Which is why they limited your duties only to votes involving issues with daywalkers or the mundane squabbles that occur occasionally. When it involves the originals or their offspring, you gave up the right to cast a vote centuries ago. Now, if you’ve changed your mind, I’ll be more than happy to inform the—”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Bennett groused. “I don’t want to be the matriarch of a clan, Max. I just want to live my bloody life without Napoleon constantly cocking it up.”

“Well, I think after the recent ruling, that shouldn’t be a problem any longer.”