The King's War

32. The Ultimatum

NATHANIEL

As I walked into the Sinclair manor, I was hit with the memory of my previous time in the South. Sheridan had thrown a party in my honor, inviting anyone and everyone of importance. It had been a lively event, with music and laughter and dancing that would've lasted past the dawn if it weren't for vampires' aversion to sunlight. It was also a thinly veiled attempt for Sheridan to posture about his own prosperity. He'd joked about me not having a date, his own Queen draped longingly over his arm.

This time, the house was quiet as a tomb — an eerie shrine to Sheridan's life and reign.

"Why did you bring me here?" I asked Balthazar through gritted teeth. Was he so dramatic that he'd take me to the house of a dead king just to emphasize whatever convoluted point he was trying to make?

Balthazar wouldn't answer me. He simply made his way past the Greek columns and French doors, and down a long white hallway that led to Sheridan's office. The room was less of an official workspace like mine and more of a private study where Sheridan could conduct his shady business deals and drink his gin unperturbed. His actual seat of power had been in New Orleans's historic City Hall.

Balthazar made himself comfortable in the brown leather chair behind Sheridan's ornate mahogany desk. A layer of dust coated the surface of the wood. The place hadn't been touched in a long while. With the vampires expelled from the city, the manor's staff had no reason to keep it in order. I was surprised it hadn't been looted.

Balthazar looked so at home in Sheridan's chair that if I didn't know better, I'd have thought he was angling to fill Sheridan's vacant seat in a less literal way.

"You're undoubtedly wondering what will happen to you now," Balthazar began. "That is up to you to decide. But first, listen to what I have to say."

"I know what this is," I sneered. "You're too soft to kill me, so you've spirited me away to a place where I won't cause you trouble. The witch is helping you do that, isn't she?"

"I am."

I spun around to see Daphne Sinclair standing by the door, arms folded behind her back. I hadn't heard the door open and was willing to bet she hadn't arrived by conventional means.

"This isn't what you think, Nathaniel," Balthazar said. "I'm here to give you a choice, one that many vampires, yourself included, were never given. It is a chance for you to start anew."

"We've found the cure," Daphne drawled.

I spun around to stare at her, then back at Balthazar. "You're insane if you think I believe you." But a strange, traitorous part of me wondered if it was really possible.

"It is true," Balthazar replied. "And it is the best way to avoid another war. You and Abel and Sheridan and every vampire involved in the first one should've known humanity would not be content with being conquered."

Fury burned hot within me. "Well, I will not allow myself to be ruled by you."

Balthazar sighed and opened a drawer in Sheridan's desk to pull out a small glass bottle with dark amber liquid swirling inside. "This is your salvation, Nathaniel. Take it." He rose and held the bottle out to me.

I took it, if only to examine it myself. The liquid inside was the consistency of syrup and left a dark coating on the bottle as it swirled around. Could it really be a cure? If anyone could've found or created it, a witch with Daphne's power certainly seemed like a good candidate. Or more likely, that's what Balthazar wanted me to believe.

"This is a trick," I scoffed. "The cure has never been possible."

"In that case, I'll allow for some testimony as to its effectiveness," Balthazar replied smoothly. He turned to Daphne. "Let Miss Crawford in."