“August…” Jude looks away, and he pops the knuckles of his left hand. “Something you should understand is that no one actually knows what will happen to your body during the Ascension. You might keep your blood … and you might not. Even when humans are Turned, their bone marrow remains the same, and when reactivated, it continues producing enough red cells to keep them bound to the oaths they swore in life.” Cocking his head, he adds, “But we don’t know what’s being introduced to your body, or what a change will look like. You might be transmuted into something else entirely.”

“Oh, okay.” I lick my lips, and my tongue is so dry I almost taste the sparks. “Thanks for making it sound so pants-shittingly cool.”

“I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is that a blood oath might not even work.” His eyes are on his hands. “And you might not want it to.”

“Um … what?”

“The only reason the Syndicate has ever cared about striking a balance is because, historically, we’ve risked annihilation every time we’ve grabbed for power. Vampires might be faster and stronger than humans, but we are drastically outnumbered, and our vulnerabilities—chiefly to fire and sunlight—make it hard for us to centralize our power.” Hunching his shoulders, Jude scratches the tabletop more vigorously. “The reason the Syndicate is headquartered in the Carpathians isn’t some silly homage to Vlad Dracula; it’s strategy. The castle was built at a time when isolation, inaccessibility, and clear vantage points meant the difference between surviving through daylight hours and waking up engulfed in flames while delighted villagers watched us burn.

“In the age of satellite technology, we’re more discoverable than ever. Targeted missiles, long-range bombs, aircraft … Militaries around the globe already have protocols in place for wiping us out when the opportunity presents itself.” He lays his hands flat and leans closer. “Today, the only difference between life and death for the Syndicate is our reputation for stringently policing our own kind, enforcing regulations, and keeping humans as safe as possible.”

It sounds an awful lot like a warning. “All the more reason for you to be in control of the Corrupter, right?”

“You don’t understand.” He speaks quietly, but with an edge sharp enough to cut my fingers on. “The kind of power the Corrupter promises … If the Syndics had that to share among their lineages, there would be no reason to maintain balance—no need to fear death at the hands of men, and no need to perform our cooperative submission.”

Ice spreads through me. “So it was all a lie? All that stuff about the Syndicate not believing in the Corrupter and true immortality being a curse—”