Normally, placing the portal inside the inn wasn’t an option due to security concerns. No innkeeper worth their salt would allow random guests to teleport into the inn. But in this case, we had to make an exception. Having three hundred beings, some of them clearly inhuman, troop across our back yard was out of the question. It would take too long, draw too much attention, and neither Sean nor I wanted to add to our list of many problems. We would get everyone into the inn in a single massive procession and shut the portal off.

“It looks… basic,” Resven said.

Miralitt raised her eyes for a fraction of a second. “It looks strategically sound. No place to hide. One group at a time?”

Sean nodded. It was a simple plan – we would welcome each delegation and channel them down the appropriate hallway into their chambers, sealing it behind them.

“How long do you need between the groups?” she asked.

“Fifteen minutes would be ideal,” I told her.

“We can do better than that,” she said. “I can give you an hour between each party.”

“That would be greatly appreciated. Please follow me,” I told them.

We started across the chamber toward the main door.

“Why stone?” Resven asked. “Why this particular shade?”

“Because it’s radically different from anything found in the Dominion’s capital,” I explained. “It will immediately reassure the guests that the transition has occurred, while its perceived age will command a certain respect.”

“How old is it?” Resven asked.

“I made it yesterday,” Sean told him.

We entered a stone hallway. Tiny constellations of lights flared as we approached, illuminating the way.

“The Sovereign is very particular when it comes to his accommodations,” Resven said. “Sophistication. Refinement. Dignity. Those are the key concepts of the Capital design. Have you familiarized yourself with Lady Wexyn Dion-Dian?”

“Yes,” I said. Lady Wexyn was one of the spouse candidates.

Resven turned to me and paused, so I would understand the full gravity of what he was about to say. “The opposite of that!”

“Lady Wexyn is a free spirit,” Miralitt said.

“She is an agent of chaos and entropy,” Resven said. “The woman has no decorum, tact, or restraint.”

“It is my understanding that Lady Wexyn is sponsored by one of the White Rose Cluster Temples,” Sean said. “Which one?”

“Was that not in the summary?” Resven asked.

“No.”

“She’s sponsored by the Temple of Desire,” Miralitt said.

Nothing changed in Sean’s face, but I knew him better than they did. The name of temple was important, and it clearly meant something to him.

“The theme must be one of elegant opulence,” Resven said. “Graceful, restrained, tasteful, never ostentatious, yet also not cheap. Nothing vivid like the otrokar’s barbaric decorations. Nothing drab or blood-soaked like those favored by the Holy Anocracy…”

I chanced a quick glance at Miralitt. Her upper lip rose a fraction betraying a glimpse of a fang. Yep, vampire blood.