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City. She had no idea why. She was sure she hadn’t broken his heart. Everyone knew his marriage—just like hers and every other noble marriage—would be arranged for the best political union for the family. It didn’t matter what anyone wanted.
    He set the corpse on the table and took up a position beside Lyla and Allette. The corpse’s hand fell over the edge, dangling, blood dripping from its index finger and landing in sticky plops on the floor.
    Ward and she needed to get out of there. If she’d needed proof before to determine who was the most dangerous—Macerio or the bounty hunters—she had more than enough evidence now. She’d take the bounty hunters any day.

Chapter Four
    Ward couldn’t stop staring at the corpse and the blood pooling around its head. Macerio had killed him—killed both of the bounty hunters—with a touch. As simple as breathing. A little blood, a few words of power, and a painful death. What had he and Celia gotten themselves into? There wasn’t any good way to get out of the room, not until Macerio was done. Ward could only pray they wouldn’t draw the Innecroestri’s attention. If he stood still enough, maybe Macerio would forget they were there.
    “Now that all the family has gathered,” Macerio said.
    Ward glanced to the group at the back of the room. They all looked to be around Macerio’s age, save for a few, but there was no family resemblance in any of them. They were mixed in hair and eye color, and only half had the distinctive noble features.
    “I think we should have a test. Quirin has already proven his strength of magical ability with a pet.” Macerio caressed Lyla’s cheek, then rested his hand on the shoulder of the stunning blond man who’d entered with the corpse. “Creating a vesperitti is the first true test of the Innecroestri. It takes power and skill and strength of will.”
    All the blood drained from Ward’s face. Macerio’s family were his vesperitti, and Goddess above, he didn’t just have six, he had up to fifteen. Fifteen possible monsters staring at him. If the myths were true, they all hungered for what little magic was in his blood.
    He was so dead. Tortured first and then dead.
    “Quirin?” Macerio asked.
    Ward shivered.
    “Which of my hopefuls should join you in the ranks of the Innecroestri?”
    “I ah…” He clenched his jaw to still his rattling teeth. He had to pull it together. If he didn’t look like prey, they wouldn’t attack. “You know your hopefuls better than I do. Both should be up for the challenge.”
    “I guess we’ll find out. Pick one.”
    Both Rodas and Enota glared at Ward, their jealousy clear. He was the new favorite, and he didn’t doubt either of them would do anything to replace him. Which did he turn into a black necromancer, into everything his family, the de’Aths, had spent generations thwarting?
    “I’m waiting,” Macerio said in a singsong.
    Just pick one. “Enota.”
    Rodas’s eyes narrowed. Another enemy to add to the list.
    Macerio eased to the table. “Interesting choice.” He snapped his fingers. Allette scurried to his side and handed him a narrow leather-bound book.
    “Within these pages are the darkest secrets of the Innecroestri.” He cradled the book, caressing the closed goddess-eye seared onto the cover. Below the goddess-eye, in Vys—an ancient language of magical power—was the symbol of death.
    The rest of Ward’s blood drained away, freezing in his veins, and the world twisted. He hadn’t seen that right. Ward blinked, but the book’s cover didn’t change. The only grimoire in all the Union of Principalities that had that sigil was Habil’s Book of Death, one third of the first Innecroestri’s spell book. A book enspelled with death magic that imbued the owner with even more dark power. It was impossible for this to be the real Book of Death.
    “Prove you belong among us.” Macerio opened the book to a page near the middle and placed it on the table by the