“Good to see you, Bhal. How is London?” Byron asked. London was another place she avoided like the plague. For any pressing business there she sent her cousin Angelo.

“Cold and rainy as usual, Principe,” Bhal said.

Byron sighed. “I miss it. There’s nothing quite like a British rain.”

Bhal smiled. “Too true. How can I help, Principe?”

Byron took a cigar from the oak box as her side and tapped it against the desk, trying to seem as nonchalant as she could be. “How is your assignment?”

“How is she, you mean?” Bhal said.

She lit her cigar and sucked the calming smoke into her lungs. “How is Amelia?”

Byron had not just dumped Amelia and run. She had assigned Bhal and a few of her warriors to watch over her and protect her if any Dreds turned up looking for her. Byron tried to call as little as possible, because any contact with Amelia, be it direct or indirect, caused her pain, but today she needed to be closer.

“Amelia is safe. I watch over her and I have someone make contact with her each day. It’s six months today since you sent me on this assignment, you know.”

“What do you mean by that?” Byron said.

“Simply that if the Dreds were going to target her, they probably would have by now. Maybe it’s time to bring this assignment to an end.”

“No!” Byron insisted. “If I ask you to watch her, then that’s what you will do.”

Bhal bowed her head. “Of course I will, Principe. You know that. I’m simply trying to make a point.”

“And what is that?”

“That you can’t let her go,” Bhal said.

Byron stubbed out her cigar and went over to pour a large glass of whiskey. That was exactly what she feared. As long as her people were watching over Amelia, Byron was connected to her, but if she pulled them out it really would be goodbye, and if she said goodbye, then Byron might lose herself completely.

She gulped back the fiery malt whiskey and immediately poured another, her hand shaking and clinking the glass. I need to feed, need to feed.

“Are you quite well, Principe?” Bhal sounded concerned.

“Of course. I just need to feed,” Byron said more harshly than she meant.

There was a heavy silence for a time. Byron was quite aware that Bhal knew her struggles with the darkness in her youth, but she did not want to worry her, or admit to that.

“She still has your mark on her neck.” Bhal filled the silence. “It never healed. You know what that means?”

Every sign was pointing to Amelia being her Principessa. Her inability to compel her, and her mark, her bite, not healing. She hadn’t even fully bitten Amelia, only tasted her blood, but still her mark stayed upon her neck. That meant their DNA was compatible. Unusual for a human and vampire.