But why?

“No, there is more,” Jester says. “Because the legacy is passed through the mother, the children of Elizabeth’s illegitimate daughter are more powerful than those of her legitimate son. But they are also far more rare. They were the highest-priority targets of the Scions for centuries, the most hunted of the hunted. Tibor believes that Nikola is searching for some missing remnant of Anastasia’s line.”

“More powerful how?”

“No one knows. The bloodline died out or went into hiding nearly a century ago.” Jester lifts her shoulders. “But Nikola’s been obsessed with it.”

Could that be what Nikola thinks I found? Some remnant of that line? Maybe it’s never been the diary after all!

“For what purpose?”

She shrugs. “Who knows? He’s a madman.”

“And Tibor isn’t as crazy as he lets on,” I murmur.

“No. On the contrary, he’s frighteningly intelligent, with a deep ability to understand the psychology of others.”

“Crazy or not, Nikola’s no idiot, either. How did he become Prince of Budapest, anyway? How does anyone?”

“A matter of connection and charisma.”

“All the Progeny have charisma,” I say.

“Yes, but the underground is the ultimate experiment in leadership. You know who the true leaders are—others talk about them in mythic terms. People follow them, if only out of curiosity. Why do you think I am here?”

“You said yourself: because of Katia.”

“For the excitement, no? We can’t all jump off high buildings,” she says wryly. “And everyone is talking about you for days now. We Utod have our own pop culture, being comprised mostly of young people. You are a celebrity.”

It’s true that Progeny culture—court itself—is practically a cult of youth. In that way, I suppose, the legends about Elizabeth Bathory have lived on—forever young, charismatic, beautiful . . . and just as walled up as ever.

“Nikola was nothing, once,” Jester continues. “But he was afraid of nothing. That will get you far at court. But it was becoming close to your mother that put him on the map.”

“How?”

“He became a zealot. Much as Amerie was rumored to have been. And zealots are idolized at court, because they are filled with passion. They are alive. They are out doing zealot things! Like having their memories erased.”

“If you’re here for fame by association, I strongly suggest you rethink your motives,” I mutter.

A blip sounds from Jester’s computer, and a large gold version of the logo she entered off my sketch balloons onto the screen.

“Aha,” she says. “Here it is.”

I had forgotten about the computer, searching in silence all this time. Now, at sight of the symbol, I think I might be ill.