THE BLOODMOON MATE

The night Serena died, the sky split open.

Vlad stood over her body, blood still warm on his hands, and watched the stars twist into shapes he didn't recognize. The council's assassins had fled. His own guards had scattered. Only he remained, surrounded by silence and the copper smell of death.

He didn't feel guilt. He didn't feel regret. He felt annoyed. She'd hidden the chip somewhere in his own chambers, and now he'd never find it.

He nudged her shoulder with the toe of his boot. Nothing. Dead, dead, dead. "Stupid woman," he murmured. "You couldn't have hidden it somewhere convenient?"

A light bloomed above him. Silver. Cold. Unnatural.

Vlad looked up. The Moon Goddess descended from the rift in the sky. She was tall, her skin the color of moonlight, her eyes empty of pupils, her hair flowing like liquid shadow. She wore no crown, but she didn't need one. Power radiated from her like heat from a forge.

"Vladimir," she said. Her voice was not loud, but it filled the world.

"Your Grace." He didn't bow. He never bowed. Instead, he smiled - a gentle, almost pleasant smile. The kind of smile he wore when he was about to do something terrible. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She looked at Serena's body. Then at him. "You killed her."

"People die. It happens." He tilted his head, smiling unwavering. "I'm sorry, was she important to you? You should have mentioned it. I'd have left her alive. Maybe."

The Moon Goddess's eyes narrowed. "She was under my protection."

Vlad raised an eyebrow, his smile widening just a fraction. "Was she? No one told me. You know how my court is - gossip travels slower than a dying slug." He gestured vaguely at the corpse. "You want me to write an apology letter? I have very nice parchment."

"You are insolent."

"I'm honest. There's a difference." He wiped his hands on his coat, still smiling. "If you've come to scold me, save your breath. I have a chip to find. Somewhere in my bedroom, apparently. Isn't that ironic?