“That wasn’t really necessary, Kate. She didn’t mean any harm,” Edward muttered under his breath. Neither of us paid attention to him.

“No, I didn’t feel anything. Were you doing your electric current thing?”

“I was. Hmm. I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t feel it, immortal or otherwise.”

“You said you project it? On your skin?”

Kate nodded. “It used to be just in my palms. Kind of like Aro.”

“Or Renesmee,” Edward interjected.

“But after a lot of practice, I can radiate the current all over my body. It’s a good defense. Anyone who tries to touch me drops like a human that’s been Tasered. It only downs him for a second, but that’s long enough.”

I was only half-listening to Kate, my thoughts racing around the idea that I might be able to protect my little family if I could just learn fast enough. I wished fervently that I might be good at this projecting thing, too, like I was somehow mysteriously good at all the other aspects of being a vampire. My human life had not prepared me for things that came naturally, and I couldn’t make myself trust this aptitude to last.

It felt like I had never wanted anything so badly before this: to be able to protect what I loved.

Because I was so preoccupied, I didn’t notice the silent exchange going on between Edward and Eleazar until it became a spoken conversation.

“Can you think of even one exception, though?” Edward asked.

I looked over to make sense of his comment and realized that everyone else was already staring at the two men. They were leaning toward each other intently, Edward’s expression tight with suspicion, Eleazar’s unhappy and reluctant.

“I don’t want to think of them that way,” Eleazar said through his teeth. I was surprised at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

“If you’re right—,” Eleazar began again.

Edward cut him off. “The thought was yours, not mine.”

“If I’m right… I can’t even grasp what that would mean. It would change everything about the world we’ve created. It would change the meaning of my life. What I have been a part of.”

“Your intentions were always the best, Eleazar.”

“Would that even matter? What have I done? How many lives . . .”

Tanya put her hand on Eleazar’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “What did we miss, my friend? I want to know so that I can argue with these thoughts. You’ve never done anything worth castigating yourself this way.”

“Oh, haven’t I?” Eleazar muttered. Then he shrugged out from under her hand and began his pacing again, faster even than before.

Tanya watched him for half a second and then focused on Edward. “Explain.”

Edward nodded, his tense eyes following Eleazar as he spoke. “He was trying to understand why so many of the Volturi would come to punish us. It’s not the way they do things. Certainly, we are the biggest mature coven they’ve dealt with, but in the past other covens have joined to protect themselves, and they never presented much of a challenge despite their numbers. We are more closely bonded, and that’s a factor, but not a huge one.

“He was remembering other times that covens have been punished, for one thing or the other, and a pattern occurred to him. It was a pattern that the rest of the guard would never have noticed, since Eleazar was the one passing the pertinent intelligence privately to Aro. A pattern that only repeated every other century or so.”

“What was this pattern?” Carmen asked, watching Eleazar as Edward was.

“Aro does not often personally attend a punishing expedition,” Edward said. “But in the past, when Aro wanted something in particular, it was never long before evidence turned up proving that this coven or that coven had committed some unpardonable crime. The ancients would decide to go along to watch the guard administer justice. And then, once the coven was all but destroyed, Aro would grant a pardon to one member whose thoughts, he would claim, were particularly repentant. Always, it would turn out that this vampire had the gift Aro had admired. Always, this person was given a place with the guard. The gifted vampire was won over quickly, always so grateful for the honor. There were no exceptions.”

“It must be a heady thing to be chosen,” Kate suggested.

“Ha!” Eleazar snarled, still in motion.

“There is one among the guard,” Edward said, explaining Eleazar’s angry reaction. “Her name is Chelsea. She has influence over the emotional ties between people. She can both loosen and secure these ties. She could make someone feel bonded to the Volturi, to want to belong, to want to please them. . . .”

Eleazar came to an abrupt halt. “We all understood why Chelsea was important. In a fight, if we could separate allegiances between allied covens, we could defeat them that much more easily. If we could distance the innocent members of a coven emotionally from the guilty, justice could be done without unnecessary brutality—the guilty could be punished without interference, and the innocent could be spared. Otherwise, it was impossible to keep the coven from fighting as a whole. So Chelsea would break the ties that bound them together. It seemed a great kindness to me, evidence of Aro’s mercy. I did suspect that Chelsea kept our own band more tightly knit, but that, too, was a good thing. It made us more effective. It helped us coexist more easily.”

This clarified old memories for me. It had not made sense to me before how the guard obeyed their masters so gladly, with almost lover-like devotion.

“How strong is her gift?” Tanya asked with an edge to her voice. Her gaze quickly touched on each member of her family.

Eleazar shrugged. “I was able to leave with Carmen.” And then he shook his head. “But anything weaker than the bond between partners is in danger. In a normal coven, at least. Those are weaker bonds than those in our family, though. Abstaining from human blood makes us more civilized—lets us form true bonds of love. I doubt she could turn our allegiances, Tanya.”

Tanya nodded, seeming reassured, while Eleazar continued with his analysis.

“I could only think that the reason Aro had decided to come himself, to bring so many with him, is because his goal is not punishment but acquisition,” Eleazar said. “He needs to be there to control the situation. But he needs the entire guard for protection from such a large, gifted coven. On the other hand, that leaves the other ancients unprotected in Volterra. Too risky—someone might try to take advantage. So they all come together. How else could he be sure to preserve the gifts that he wants? He must want them very badly,” Eleazar mused.

Edward’s voice was low as a breath. “From what I saw of his thoughts last spring, Aro’s never wanted anything more than he wants Alice.”

I felt my mouth fall open, remembering the nightmarish pictures I had imagined long ago: Edward and Alice in black cloaks with bloodred eyes, their faces cold and remote as they stood close as shadows, Aro’s hands on theirs.… Had Alice seen this more recently? Had she seen Chelsea trying to strip away her love for us, to bind her to Aro and Caius and Marcus?

“Is that why Alice left?” I asked, my voice breaking on her name.

Edward put his hand against my cheek. “I think it must be. To keep Aro from gaining the thing he wants most of all. To keep her power out of his hands.”

I heard Tanya and Kate murmuring in disturbed voices and remembered that they hadn’t known about Alice.

“He wants you, too,” I whispered.

Edward shrugged, his face suddenly a little too composed. “Not nearly as much. I can’t really give him anything more than he already has. And of course that’s dependent on his finding a way to force me to do his will. He knows me, and he knows how unlikely that is.” He raised one eyebrow sardonically.

Eleazar frowned at Edward’s nonchalance. “He also knows your weaknesses,” Eleazar pointed out, and then he looked at me.