A chime sounded, a slightly different chime than the one that had announced last meal.

“Ah,” Bonarata said. “First meal. Why don’t we discuss matters over food?”

“Agreed,” said Adam. “We have news for you as well.”

Bonarata led the way into the dining room. Marsilia and Elizaveta followed him. The two goblins, Harris slightly to the back of Larry—like a guard—fell in behind the women. Smith, taking up the tail end of the line, stopped by the dead werewolf. He went down on one knee beside her and touched her forehead.

He bowed his head and said, very softly, “What are you going to do with the body?”

Bonarata came to a halt and turned back. Adam would swear the sadness on his face was genuine. “She served me well for a long time. We will bury her in the garden where she liked to rest in the sun when she could. I think she would have liked that, don’t you?”

Smith vibrated, his hand still on the dead wolf’s forehead. Adam waited. Finally, the wolf said, “It sounds peaceful, I think. Thank you.”

“Did you know her, too?” Harris asked.

Smith got up, sighed, and walked to the others. “Everyone knew about Lenka,” he said.

“Then someone should have done something sooner,” muttered Larry.

“Lots of someones tried,” said Bonarata. “We did not bury them in the garden.” His voice sounded amused. His public mask was back on and firmly in place.

Adam didn’t think that Bonarata would have been so sanguine if he’d been looking at Smith at that moment. But maybe he was wrong. People discount submissive wolves.

—

ADAM HAD HOPED TO BE GONE BEFORE THE FIRST meal, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Mercy was still on the other end of their bond, so he could manage another hour of negotiations as long as he wasn’t the one doing the negotiating. Now that they were being honest in their dealings with Bonarata, he trusted Marsilia to reclaim her role as diplomat.

And there was still Guccio, who had marked Adam as his food. To get to Mercy an hour sooner, Adam would have forgone the pleasure of teaching Guccio why vampires didn’t go about thinking of Alpha werewolves as prey. So he wasn’t altogether disappointed with the delay.

They crossed into the dining room, and Bonarata stopped to speak softly to one of his vampires, who then walked quickly off without appearing to rush.

“Your witch wasn’t careful,” said Elizaveta as they started forward again. “That collar would not have . . .” She paused. “I think it was already no longer keeping her obedient.”

Behind them, Smith growled again. It was a quiet thing, so maybe the vampire and witch didn’t hear it.

Bonarata nodded. “It was becoming a concern,” he said. “But I have not had a witch capable of that kind of work since before the Second World War.” He smiled at Elizaveta. “Would you be interested in a job?”