A murmur rippled through the ranks.
“I said, enough!” Lorenzo shouted. “I am prince here, by birth and by power. Guards, seize Machiavelli and take off his head.”
At this Niccolò smiled. “You’re just like your ancestors—arrogant, small-minded, and ignorant. You wouldn’t recognize greatness if it ran you through with a sword.”
Lorenzo began to clap, exaggeratedly. “Pontificating even at the end. I’ve never met a man who loves the sound of his own voice more than you.”
“A voice you ignored.”
“You had every opportunity to seize the throne for yourself but were too cowardly to do so. What’s the old adage? Ah, yes. Fortune favors the brave. Today, I am favored and you are dead.”
Niccolò’s smile widened.
“Yes, fortune favors the brave. If you’d paid attention to the history of your family, you’d know that fortune abandoned them long ago. I witnessed the exile of your family in 1494. I saw them return to power only to lose it. I learned my lesson—never pin your political aspirations on a Medici.”
He made a low, slashing motion with his hand, and a long line of soldiers entered the chamber, marching down the aisle and assembling behind the chairs that were reserved for the Consilium members.
Lorenzo appeared confused. “Guards, seize him.”
One of the soldiers stepped out from behind the throne, sword raised. Lorenzo caught sight of the sword and moved to the side, but another soldier slashed at his head.
His corpse fell to the ground.
“Someone should have read The Art of War.” Niccolò stepped over the head with distaste, lifting his robes as he kicked the headless body.
Soldiers continued to file into the chamber until it was full. It appeared that the entire Florentine army had been assembled—all three hundred of them.
Machiavelli nodded at the commanding officer, who bowed to him.
“You there.” He gestured to the soldiers who were holding Raven. “Release her. Take three of your brethren and carry the Medici dog’s body outside the city. Burn everything and report back here.”
The soldiers bowed and obeyed.
Raven pressed herself close to William and Cara, eyes wide.
“I didn’t expect that,” Aoibhe muttered, cursing in Irish.
“I didn’t live this long to have my life ended by a Medici.” Niccolò favored her with his back as he ascended the throne.
He arranged his robes and looked down at Raven and William.
“Now, what’s to be done with the two of you?”
Chapter Fifty-four
“The letter from the Curia regarding the humans is at your feet.” William nodded toward the paper.
A soldier picked it up and handed it to Niccolò. He read it and returned it.
“If the Curia want the females so badly, it’s tempting to keep them in order to negotiate a more detailed, protracted peace.”
William cursed.
Niccolò lifted his hand. “But for a new prince, that would be unwise. The females have no value to me except as political pawns, and so it’s better to send them as a gift to our enemy and then negotiate the peace.”
“No,” Raven protested.
“It isn’t safe here,” William cautioned her in English, speaking under his breath.
“How long, Niccolò?” William lifted his voice, speaking now in Italian. “How long have you been waiting in the wings?”
“I’d like an answer to that question, as well,” Aoibhe interjected.
“Neither of you are in a position to make any demands.” Niccolò straightened on the throne. “But since I am in a mood to be magnanimous, I’ll reveal that I discovered Lorenzo’s activities some time ago. I kept my discovery to myself. Not even he knew I was aware of his duplicity. He took the risk, while I bided my time. But he was supposed to destroy you.”
“We could duel for the throne.” William barely restrained a smile.
“We both know I cannot best you face-to-face.”
“Face-to-back, then?” William taunted him.
“I doubt you’ll find it amusing when I set the army against you.”
“I may not be able to defeat them”—William’s tone grew menacing—“but I shall die trying. If you’re certain the army is loyal to you, then you won’t mind putting that to the test.”
“The odds are in my favor.”
William’s smile widened. “You can’t know what lies in their hearts, Niccolò. We’ve enjoyed centuries of prosperity and peace under my command. Even now I have negotiated a way to keep the Curia at bay.”
A murmur rippled across the assembly of soldiers.
William nodded appreciatively. “It would seem I still have friends in the ranks.”
“You assume much. Perhaps I shall force you to surrender by taking your pet and enjoying her for a while.”
William pressed his lips together, restraining his reaction. “Any harm that comes to her will be reported to the Curia by their spies.”
“Yes,” Machiavelli mused. “I am well aware of that. Your pet smells sweet, but she’s infirm. I don’t find her tempting.”
He gestured to the commanding officer of the army. “General, choose ten of your best and most trusted soldiers to accompany the humans to Vatican City. They are to deliver the females unharmed and unspoiled.”
“No,” Raven cried in English. “I don’t want to go. William, do something!”
“Cassita,” he whispered. His eyes held a warning.
“You promised,” she said accusingly. “You promised we’d stay together.”
“It’s the only way.”
Raven bowed to Niccolò and switched to Italian. “Please don’t send me to Rome.”
He ignored her and spoke to William. “Is your pet addressing me?”
“Yes,” she replied.
The new prince scowled. “Your pet is spoiled and needs to learn its place.”
“I’m not deaf. You’re discussing my fate in front of me. I should be allowed to say something,” Raven countered.
“Human beings don’t have status in this chamber except as food.”
“I didn’t think the great race of vampyres would be speciesist.” Raven’s hands clenched at her sides.
Machiavelli’s eyes flickered to hers. “I’ll indulge you for a moment, but only because you have an enviable vocabulary. Be brief.”
“Thank you.” Raven took a deep breath, trying to slow the rapid beating of her heart.
“In your book Il Principe, you wrote that when there is no tribunal to appeal to, we look to results.”
At this, Machiavelli leaned forward. “You read Il Principe?”
“I read it in English, but yes.”
His chest puffed out. “Interesting. Proceed.”
“I can provide you with the results that you want, without being delivered to the Curia.”
“How?”
“Father Kavanaugh is my friend.” Various whisperings filled the chamber, but Raven ignored them. “He thinks I’m in danger, which is why he wants me in Rome. If you would let me write to him, I can persuade him I’m safe and that the Curia should leave Florence in peace.”
“While I appreciate the gesture, the priest has demanded your presence. What makes you think you can change his mind?”