As he watched Lestat move through the inevitable crowds in the Château, Fareed began to wonder whether Lestat possessed extraordinary courage, or whether Lestat simply didn’t know what fear was. He appeared oblivious to the Sword of Damocles hanging over his head.

He danced with the young ones and the old ones, took long walks up and down the mountain with Louis, played chess or cards whenever he wanted, and spent hours watching films in the screening room of the castle just as he had done before.

Maybe Lestat knew something that they didn’t know.

But Fareed doubted that, and Seth said it wasn’t so. Marius said it wasn’t so. Lestat was simply living from moment to moment, with the same brashness and boldness that had always characterized him. Maybe he simply didn’t care.

The fourth night, Lestat had gone to see Rhoshamandes without warning a single soul as to what he planned to do. Thorne and Cyril followed him as faithfully as they had in the past.

“You’re our Prince,” Cyril had declared. “Nothing has changed that. You think we’re going to let anybody take you down? Grow up!”

The meeting with Rhoshamandes had taken place in the Outer Hebrides on his island of Saint Rayne in the formidable and famous castle that Rhoshamandes had built for himself a thousand years ago.

“I simply told him what had happened,” Lestat explained afterwards. “I gave him a little demonstration. Nothing as elaborate as setting my right hand on fire, but he took the point. I thought he should know it was true, because I knew he wouldn’t believe all the rumors and the extravagant claims. And I didn’t want him believing all the predictions of rapid-fire deterioration. After all, he is one of us.”

After all, he is one of us.

Cyril and Thorne attested to the fact that Rhoshamandes had received the Prince with cordiality, inviting him in and taking him on a little tour of the castle. They had gone out on the Benedicta together. Rhoshamandes had been candid about fearing the Replimoids. But Lestat had assured Rhosh that the Replimoids were occupied with far more important things than settling any old score. And the Replimoids had given their word.

Had the two discussed what the Replimoids would do next?

“No,” said Lestat. “That’s no one’s concern now but mine.”

Rhoshamandes had given Lestat a copy of Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations. And Lestat had been seen reading it more than once.

“I see a change in him,” said Marius. “It isn’t resignation. It isn’t courage. It’s practicality. He’s always been practical. He knows it’s about to come to a head.”

“We have no hope of safely detaching the spirit from him,” said Fareed. “But there has to be a way to do it. There has to be.”