Whatever the nightly arguments, the heated question-and-answer sessions, vampires clung to the Court. The Château could shelter some fifty or more guests in its crypts; another two hundred or more lodged safely and secretly in the nearby cities; and the young ones who had to hunt the millions in Paris came nightly to Armand’s house in Saint-Germain-des-Prés. And I went to be with the young ones there for at least an hour every night.

There were tears shed, loud accusations of betrayal, sharp challenges to my integrity or worth as the Prince of the Vampires, and long violent discussions as to what to fear and what to do, and how long we might have.

But we hung together, at Armand’s house, or here in this mighty fortress where the lights never went out and the music always played.

As for Amel, he listened to all of my speeches and exhortations in silence, only pouring forth his heart to me when we were alone. It seemed with every passing night, he knew more of his own story, but he knew it threaded through and through with confusion and pain. He wept and railed at the Bravennans, whom he called the authors of all evil, and blamed on them all the bloody religions that had ever become the scourge of humankind. He lapsed into the ancient tongue for hours as if he could not help himself, and other times he fell to weeping without words.

This was no longer the childish spirit baiting me and telling me he loved me one moment while calling me a fool the next. This was Amel who knew things that I would never know, no matter how long I walked the earth, knew possibilities and probabilities of which we blood drinkers simply never conceived—but Amel who could not think how to save us from destruction, and swore again and again that he would never allow such a thing to come about.

“Why don’t we go into Paris?” I suggested more than once. “Why don’t we just talk with Fareed and Seth and maybe you can figure how to sever the connection so that the others don’t have to die?”

Weeping. I heard him weeping. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

“I don’t know. I wonder. You built Atalantaya,” I said. I couldn’t get used to calling it Atlantis. “Surely you can bring your extraordinary mind to bear on this problem and come up with something, there has to be something.”

This was torture for him. I knew it. But I was desperate.

“I won’t let her do it!” Amel protested. “Don’t you understand? You think she can do this without my cooperation? You think I can’t use the power inside you to incinerate her? She knows I can and I will.”