“Are you wearing a crown?” she blurted out.

Viola glanced at her. “I’m queen, haven’t you heard?”

“You’re mental,” Lucy said. “Solange! Seriously?”

Viola felt a flare of fury at being called names. She hated it even more that Lucy didn’t cower. She didn’t realize that Lucy never cowered, ever, and especially not to me, her best friend.

Her best friend. God, Viola could do anything to her. She could get right under Lucy’s defenses.

I wondered briefly if I could stake myself on the sword lying across the arms of an empty chair.

I’ll kill her before you reach the chair, Viola warned me.

I retreated, terrified at what might happen to Lucy. Lucy noticed Marigold and Spencer. She frowned at Spencer. “I know you.”

“I don’t think so,” Spencer said.

“No, I know I recognize you from somewhere. A photo, maybe?”

While they talked, I tried to find a way around the door, tried to pick the metaphorical lock or use myself as a psychic battering ram.

Viola looked between the two of them, frowning. She arched an eyebrow at Marigold and Spencer. “Leave us.”

“Well, listen to herself,” Marigold muttered.

“Wait!” Lucy turned toward them but the guard knocked her back down before she could get up. “My friend Jenna from school is in the woods south of here, wounded.”

Spencer paused, paled. And then he was out of the tent before Viola could even remark.

Lucy!

Lucy looked up, peering at me closely, as if something didn’t make sense, as if she saw more than the others. Viola didn’t like it. Rage bubbled inside her, but she smiled prettily at the guard. “Could you get rid of her?”

“Certainly.”

Lucy pulled a long silver chain and medallion out of her pocket. “Solange, damn it, at least hear me out. Someone’s trying to frame you for murder.”

“On second thought.” Viola rose with all the deadly grace of a predator. “Let me.”

Chapter 29

Lucy

Saturday night, 10:30 p.m.

I didn’t believe Solange attacked Libby, even when I found her medallion, but I also couldn’t have imagined that she’d break from her family and set herself up as some kind of rebel queen. She hadn’t been human for a few months, but I’d never thought of her as inhuman until now.

She looked weird.

She hauled me to my feet. I tried to fight her, but she was stronger. She dragged me through the camp. I’d wanted to see the Blood Moon up close, but certainly not like this.

“Solange, what the hell?” I snapped, trying to make myself as heavy as possible. My parents taught me to go limp if I was ever arrested in a protest. “Ow!”

“Walk or get thrown.”

We passed rows of ornate tents, vampires talking, arguing, some even packing up to go home. Everyone’s gaze was drawn to her, like a magnet. She preened.

“Where’s your mom? The others?”

“Banned.” I halted in shock, and she hauled me along roughly, impatiently. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You kicked them out?”

“I had to.”

“You really are crazy.”

“This way I can find Nicholas,” she said smoothly. “Isn’t that what you want?”

I stumbled along beside her, trying to find my best friend in the lithe, hard girl with the sickly sweet smile. She may as well have been a different person. No one stopped us as she took me past guards and rows of motorcycles, past more guards and over a stream. I couldn’t keep up. I was panting, sweat burning into my eyes. When she stopped I felt a trickle of fear. She just smiled again, like a little girl.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, looking around frantically for a makeshift weapon.

“Get rid of yet another problem.”

She was reaching for me when the voice speared between us.

“Get the hell away from her.”

“Nicholas!” I was so happy to hear his rough, angry voice, I could have cried. “You’re alive!” I wanted to throw myself at him, but Solange had me by the throat. I struggled even though I knew it was useless. Nicholas’s eyes looked like a winter storm, all fog and black ice. He stalked toward us.

“Ah, the prodigal son returns.”

“I mean it, Solange,” he said, his jaw clenching. “Get off her. Now.” He moved so fast I just saw a blur of pale skin and furious eyes, and then he was right in front of us. He was covered in blood and gashes, his shirt torn, ugly burns on the side of his neck. He reached for me.

Solange tightened her grip.

I would have squeaked but I had no breath left to make even the smallest sound.

Nicholas froze. It would be easy for her to snap my neck. I knew it, Solange knew it, Nicholas knew it.

Instead, she lowered her head and licked the blood trickling from the cut on my hairline.

“Solange, gross!” I flinched and tried to kick her since my legs were about the only thing I could move.

“She’ll die if I so much as get a splinter,” Solange warned him calmly, almost sadly. “I don’t want to, Nicholas, so don’t force my hand.”

“Let her go,” Nicholas ground out. “Solange, she’s your best friend. More than that, she’s like your sister.”

She shifted so I was held up against a tree by the pale spear of her arm. “A lot’s changed since you’ve been gone,” she said. “I just need you to listen for a moment.”