“What do we get out of this?” I demanded, unable to keep the skepticism out of my voice. I folded my arms over my chest and stared hard at the Elder, but he ignored my dark looks.

“Besides the chance to destroy their queen and cripple their race?”

“Yes. We’re the ones risking everything.”

Macaire smiled and strolled into the center of the campo, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. Reluctantly, Danaus and I followed him into the center of the square. The area was mostly empty. At the far end of the campo a stage was being decorated by several people. They appeared to be preparing for a festival, though I wasn’t sure which one. On the stage sat a row of five chairs with high backs, reminding me vaguely of the Great Hall dais. Obviously, Macaire had planned on walking to this part of the neighborhood. He had something else on his mind.

“What do you know of the Great Awakening?” he asked, his tone sounding as if he had just asked what the weather would be like tomorrow.

“A general outline of the plan. Why? It’s not supposed to be for another fifty years and even that’s still up for debate.”

“It’s the debate that has the Elders concerned,” he said. His hands swung from his back and hung limp at his sides. He looked around, taking in the string of little lights overhead and the other tables that lined the edge of the square. Tomorrow they would most likely be overflowing with food while the square buzzed with conversation and laughter. “It seems Our Liege wishes to change the date of the Awakening.”

“To what?”

“Next year.”

“Is he mad?” Danaus blurted out, causing me to wince at his volume and tone. It was not the type of thing anyone dared to voice about Our Liege. You never knew who was listening. I had always been outspoken, but there were a few lines even I was hesitant to cross.

“That’s not the word I would use,” Macaire said, his grim voice a proper reprimand for my companion’s unseemly outburst.

“It’s too soon,” I said to the Elder, resisting the urge to place my hand on Danaus’s arm to steady myself. My world was spinning out of control and I desperately wanted to run away from them all. “The humans may be able to adapt, but there are still a few stages that are supposed to be implemented. It would make the transition easier. The timetable was developed to protect our kind. You can’t throw it aside.”

“You’re not telling me anything the Coven has not already discussed.” Macaire waved one hand absently at me. A frown dug deeper lines into his grim face.

I walked over to stand directly in front of him, lowering my voice. Our agitated conversation was drawing the confused gaze of those on the stage at the far aside of the square. “What about the other races? What have they said?”

“They wish to stick to the timetable.”

I closed my eyes, not wanting to hear any more, but there was one other question that had to be asked. “Will Our Liege proceed without the rest of the races?”

“It is his intention.”

“Then it will be war,” I said wearily. The other races would attack nightwalkers around the globe to keep us from pulling aside the veil that protected our common secret. If I survived Aurora’s planned assassination, I would be headed into a war against creatures I had been at peace with for centuries. And in the end, the humans would still discover us ahead of schedule. We wouldn’t be able to hide the war from them forever, and they would discover us in the worst possible way.

“So now you understand our dilemma.” The Elder sounded tired, as if the weight of centuries had trickled into his voice.

“What is the Coven’s plan?”

Again Macaire smiled at me, sending a shiver skittering across my skin. Nightwalkers may not have been reborn evil, but there were moments when I thought something truly evil resided in Macaire’s chest. “The naturi can move about during the day. They would be able to get past bodyguards.”

“You plan to—”

“Do not even breathe the words!” he sharply said. Even the powerful Macaire had his fears. I knew what they planned to do. The Coven planned to have the naturi assassinate Our Liege while he slept during the day.

“And all of the Coven has agreed on this course of action?”

“Of course.”

“Even Tabor?”

The Elder’s gaze darted to Danaus before he could stop himself and then he stared silently at me for a long time. I could almost see the thoughts bouncing around in his head as he weighed my question. His lips twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was something. Maybe a word that he had stopped at the last second.

“That is an interesting question,” he said at last. “I think he would have if he had survived longer.”

“But he didn’t initially,” I prodded. Something still didn’t feel right about this. It might have just been my survival instincts telling me not to trust a word Macaire told me. I believed there was some kernel of truth to this tale, but I also knew there were a few other important tidbits he was leaving out. I had never met Our Liege and didn’t feel any particular allegiance to the nightwalker. As far as I knew, he had done nothing for me and was generally indifferent to my existence. In truth, Our Liege and the Coven had little effect on the night-to-night life of a vampire.

“He had his doubts,” Macaire said. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” I replied with a shrug.

I strolled through the campo then, heading toward the stage, when I abruptly stopped, my eyes locked on the five chairs. The people who were hanging the last of the deep purple cloth to hide the wooden beams supporting the stage had finished and left the plaza. Danaus and I were alone with the Elder.

“Another question if you please?” I called into the air, trying to lighten my voice of the fear coursing through my entire body.

“What is on your mind, my dear?” Macaire said, coming to stand beside me. His voice was sweet and pleasant. He already knew what thoughts were dancing through my head.

“Supposing Our Liege meets an untimely demise at the hand of the naturi. Then our kind will find itself without a clear leader for the first time in several millennia. That cannot be in the best interest of our people.”

“No, that would not be,” he said with a solemn shake of his head. “But our race wouldn’t be without guidance. The Coven would remain.”

“So the rule of one and four would be replaced by the rule of three,” I said. That did not feel like an improvement.

“Until someone rose to power to reclaim the throne, and a fourth filled the empty seat on the Coven.”

I was frowning again. The Coven was not an improvement over Our Liege if one used the court as any kind of example of what the future would hold for my race. The Elders did as they wanted, but Our Liege held their collective leash. I might not have been too keen on his plan to throw away the timetable and start a war, but I wasn’t thrilled with my other option either.

Thick, heavy shadows had moved into the large plaza, and the voices of the people had dulled. Night was fully born. To my surprise, Macaire hopped up on the stage. The nightwalker sat down in the chair in the center, balancing his left ankle on his right knee.

“There is a belief among our kind that you will take the open seat on the Coven,” he casually began, motioning toward the seat that would have been Tabor’s.

It was a fight not to clench my teeth. I was doomed to hear this question repeated until it drove me mad. “I’m not an Ancient,” I said carefully.

“That is more a tradition than a law,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. I remained silent, waiting for him to finally say what was on his mind, but I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. “The rumor has begun to pick up steam now following your return to Venice and your little display the other night with Gwen. You were never one to adopt pets. I also heard what you told Valerio the other night about choosing sides. One might think that you are starting to build a following.” All this was said with a great amount of indifference and a frosting of boredom, but I wasn’t fooled. There was something he wanted to hear from me, and he was hanging on my every word.