Rosalind turned to glare at Christopher, who had remained leaning against the wall. She poked him hard in the ribs and he looked at her innocently. "What?"

"You were kissing Anne Boleyn."

He rubbed his fingers against his lips and over his tight beard. "I suppose I was."

Rosalind stared at him, her hands on her hips. She realized she was shaking and thumped him on the chest again. "She's lucky I didn't have my sword with me. I would've enjoyed skewering you both."

He caught her flailing fist within his grasp. "What else was I to do? She had me pinned against the wall like a butterfly. I could hardly shove her out of the way, could I?"

His reasonable tone made Rosalind even angrier. "You could have made some polite excuse. You could've set her aside-"

"Not if I wished her to believe I am still hers to command." His smile was as bitter as she hoped the taste of Anne had been. "I hate this." He glared back at her. "And I hate the doubt I see on your face even more."

She stared at him and felt his tangled misery, his certainty that she was about to walk away from him and not look back. Instead, she squared up to him, stood on her toes, and kissed his mouth until she erased Anne's scent and all she could taste was him. He didn't stop her, accepted the kiss as the gift it was, and returned it in full measure.

His arms closed around her hips and drew her even closer. She grabbed for his shoulders as he pivoted and lifted her higher until her back was against the wall. With a soft groan he dropped his head and nuzzled her breasts, his hands delving beneath the voluminous velvet of her skirts, seeking her nakedness.

"I want you, Rosalind. I need-"

"But what about the Lady Anne?"

"I'll keep her out of my thoughts. I swear it."

She kissed the side of his neck, his ear-any part of him she could reach, as they fought to bare enough skin to come together. Need roared through her and she heard herself whimpering as he finally guided her down over him and she felt his thick length, his heat, his gasp of achievement as he slid home.

Too quick, too fast, too urgent, but it had to be enough. Caught between the wall and the hard thrust of Christopher's hips, Rosalind's pleasure grew until she could no longer contain it. She sent it out to him, felt him join her in a fiery climax that left her sagging and helpless against his strength.

Their harsh breathing sounded loud in the small space as he carefully lowered her to the ground and wrapped her in his arms. She pressed her face into his chest and felt the cold metal chain against her cheek.

"If I hadn't found you, would you be like this with her?" she whispered.

Beneath her hands, Christopher went still. "Rosalind, I knew you'd find me. By all the saints, I was counting on it."

Rosalind closed her eyes as her strength deserted her and an absurd desire to cry filled her thoughts. "I'm so tired, Christopher."

He put a finger under her chin so that he could see her face. His gaze was full of concern. "I've never heard you complain or admit to any weakness before."

"I'm not complaining now. I'm just telling you the truth." Her voice trembled and she struggled to correct it. "I fear I am not as strong as I thought. My body seems to be rebelling against me and I cannot see a way for us to defeat the Vampires."

He brushed her hair away from her face. "It's hardly surprising, love, when you've been caught in a fight for weeks on end. Anyone would feel the same. I'd feel it myself."

"But you'd never admit it."

"I thought I just did." His smile was sweet and full of love. "You can go home, Rosalind. Leave me and Rhys to finish this business."

"I cannot. I am a Llewellyn. We never give up. We'll die trying."

Christopher rested his brow against hers. "There has to be something . . . there just has to be."

They stayed like that for a long moment and then Christopher raised his head. "Why don't you go to bed, my lady? I'll make your excuses to Anne and the king. We have to keep you well."

"Rhys says I just need to eat more regularly, but my appetite seems to have disappeared."

"You should eat." Christopher took her hand and led her toward the lighted hallway. A male shadow blocked the exit and Christopher tensed.

"I beg your pardon," Elias Warner said. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all, Elias. How can we help you?" Christopher put his dagger away and tried to look benign.

"I . . ." Elias hesitated and glanced behind him. Christopher turned back toward the room they'd just vacated.

Elias followed them, his expression grim, his mouth set in a hard line. "I have spoken to the Council. They are confident the Boleyns intend to honor their alliance."

Christopher guided Rosalind to a stool and made certain she sat down. "Do you believe that?"

"No. I know Anne better than any other Vampire still living, and that includes George and the Council. I no longer believe she wishes to subjugate the king and the nation to the Vampire cause at all."

"I agree with you."

Elias raised his eyebrows. "You do?"

"I've only known her in this life, but she has always struck me as a woman of enormous ambition."

"Aye." Elias paused. "If she can get what she wants out of the king, without being beholden to the Council, I suspect she will do so."

"But what does she want?" Rosalind asked. "Is it not enough to be queen of the Vampires?"

"I'm not so certain," said Christopher. "I think Elias is right, and that she would be far happier to rule by herself than if the Vampire Council kept interfering and trying to govern for her. She must realize that, once they get her to turn the king, she is unnecessary. One tantrum from her and they'll get rid of her in a second."

Elias nodded. "But at the moment, Anne controls the king, and she'll be even more confident when she is his queen."

Christopher glanced at Rosalind, who looked as desperate as he felt. "Then what can we do? If you insist on betraying Anne to the Vampire Council, and they believe you, they'll force her to turn the king immediately and then kill her."

Elias grimaced. "I know."

"We can't let her turn the king," Rosalind said urgently. "We have been trying to dispose of the Boleyns for weeks. So far it has proved impossible to tempt them away from the court and out into the night without them being surrounded by a band of guards."

"They'll be hard to kill," Elias said absently. "Anne is almost as old as I am, and nearly as dangerous."

"More so, I fear."

Elias's half smile made Christopher shudder. "I can be dangerous when crossed, my lord."

"I'm sure of it," Christopher replied. "So what can we do?" With an apologetic glance at Rosalind he continued. "The Druids are not strong enough to destroy all the Vampires who have gathered at court to protect the Boleyns. There seems to be an endless supply of them. A simple execution is impossible."

Elias sighed. "I cannot fathom why she hasn't simply turned the king. Surely she has had the opportunity."

"She must want something more from him," Rosalind said. "What can it be?"

Elias sank down onto one of the stools. "Mayhap she thinks it safer to turn him when she is indeed the queen. As his legal wife, it would be far harder to get rid of her." Elias rubbed a hand over his face. "She can't just want to be queen. There must be something she believes he can give her that no one else can."

Christopher patted Elias on the shoulder. "Let's think on it. Perhaps together we can come up with a solution."

Elias stood, his expression grim. "The king is almost ready to set the kingdom on its head and divorce Queen Katherine. Our time is running out."

Chapter 16.

Christopher looked up from his frowning contemplation of Anne Boleyn and her brother to find his uncle standing in front of him. He stood up and said, "Good morning, sir. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Indeed, there is." Edward gestured awkwardly with his hand. "Will you walk with me?"

Christopher waited as his uncle slowly turned around, his long body bent over his cane, his shoulders hunched with the effort of keeping his balance. Despite the heat, he wore a heavy gray cloak lined with fur, which seemed to weigh him down even further. Christopher almost felt sorry for the man, but not sorry enough to offer his help, which he knew would be spurned. They paced side by side down the long stone hallway away from the chatter of the other courtiers.

"How can I be of assistance, Uncle Edward?"

His uncle's cane tapped out a hollow sound on the stone flagstones. "First let me say I am pleased with your care of the Boleyns." Satisfaction tinged his uncle's dry voice. "It's remarkable how a threat to a man's existence can make him review his more foolish decisions and repent."

Christopher swallowed down all the comments that rose to his lips and kept smiling.

"I've also heard you have severed your ties with the Llewellyn wench, which pleases me even more."

"Yet I'm still betrothed to her. I notice you've made no effort to get me out of that."

"When Anne and the Vampire Council take power, Rosalind Llewellyn will die-as will all her Druid kin. You can be sure of that. There is no point in upsetting the king unnecessarily by killing her now."

Christopher snorted. "You mean upsetting him more than turning him into a Vampire might?"

His uncle glanced up at him, his blue eyes frosty, his pursed lips the same color as his gaze. "I see you still haven't learned to respect your elders."

"That's not quite true. I respect your wiles for using the Vampire Council and the Boleyns to further your own ambition."

Edward halted. "What do you mean by that?"

"Lady Anne told me all about how you and she were plotting together." Christopher forced himself to meet his uncle's penetrating gaze. "Have a care, Uncle. Whatever she has promised you, she has probably promised the same to George, Elias Warner, and every other member of the Vampire Council."

"Give me leave to doubt that. Lady Anne certainly has a talent for taking what she wants. But you must admit that the bargain we have between us is unique. I can offer her as much as she can offer me."

Christopher tried desperately to think what that could mean. If he tried to pretend he knew, it was highly likely he would rouse his uncle's suspicions. It was no doubt more prudent to withdraw with the knowledge that his uncle was indeed in league with Anne and work on finding out exactly how on another occasion. But then he'd never been a prudent man.

"Of course you are important to her success, sir."

"Indeed. I can bring many advantages to her side."

Christopher stopped walking. "Such as the Mithras Cult."

"Exactly." Uncle Edward smiled. "Which brings me to what I wanted to say to you. You will present yourself at the crypt chapel of Saint Bethesda in Cheapside tomorrow night at nine to answer for your crimes against your fellow members."

Christopher masked his surprise. He hadn't expected to be invited to the meeting that would decide whether he should go to trial.

Edward patted Christopher's black sleeve with his gloved hand. "I will, of course, take into account your current change of heart, although I fear the other members of my council will not consider that penance enough for your crimes."

"Well, thank you for that reassurance, Uncle. I'll be there."

Christopher bowed and headed toward Anne's apartments, his mind in a whirl. His uncle was indeed in league with Anne Boleyn. It also explained why the Mithras Cult had been ordered to follow only the dictates of the Vampires. But exactly what had Anne offered Edward in return for his support?

Christopher turned to watch his uncle's stumbling gait, and remembered his ill health. Could it be that Anne had promised to turn Edward into a Vampire, thus giving him immortality and immunity from death?

Christopher let out a curse. It might well be that simple. It would be like his uncle to put his own skin ahead even of his devotion to the Mithras Cult. He and Anne Boleyn were very alike indeed.

"Rhys, I told you, Christopher said he would get away if he could. Lady Anne watches him closely, you know that."

Rhys's face took on a mulish expression that Rosalind knew all too well. "He needs to be here. How can we discuss how we mean to go forward if he fails to make an appearance?"

"You can't have it both ways, Rhys. We told him to keep away from us."

It was after midnight and, even though she was dressed in her boy's garb, Rosalind was cold sitting on the palace rooftop. She drew her cloak more firmly around herself and studied Rhys, who sat opposite her. His long legs were drawn up to his chin, his arms wrapped around them. His hazel gaze seemed far away.

"Is something wrong, Rhys?"

He jumped as if she had poked him. "No, my lady. I'm just thinking through what you've told me."

"And?"

"I have no idea what a Vampire wants," he said flatly. "Especially one like Anne Boleyn, who already has more than any other woman in the kingdom."

"Do you think she wants to rule in the king's stead?"

"How could she do that? She's a woman."

Rosalind frowned at him. "Maybe she intends to make history. Women are quite capable of ruling, Rhys."

"As if I didn't already know that." Rhys ran a hand through his thick pelt of red hair. "Let us suppose Anne wants to rule the kingdom; why not turn the king now, or simply kill him?"

"Because she has to be legally married to him to gain his powers in this mortal world?"

"Aye, that's a possibility, and might explain both the delay and the king's current good health." Rhys glanced over at the waning moonlight. "And how is your health, my lady? Are you still puking?"

"Yes." Rosalind made a face at him. "I am beginning to wonder if Anne Boleyn is having me poisoned."

"She's certainly capable of it, and poison is a woman's weapon."

"Not one that I would choose. I'd much rather use my dagger."