“I can’t promise you I won’t screw up.” I trembled at the flex of her elegant fingers on the sword’s hilt. “I will. I can’t promise I will be perfect. I won’t. But I will continue to work every day to deserve the faith and trust the citizens of Atlanta have given me as Hadley Whitaker.”
“You have an understanding with my son,” she surmised. “He would never allow this otherwise.”
To speak was to incriminate him, so I kept my mouth shut and my head down until she chuckled softly.
“He will kill you if you embrace your darker nature. No matter how it hurts him, or his wife, he will do his duty.” A line appeared across her brow, faint and then gone. “You understand that, don’t you?”
“I’m counting on it.”
The Grande Dame studied me then gave a curt nod as if she had found what she had expected to see.
“The damage to my son’s reputation, should this come to light, would be catastrophic. For his sake, I am willing to overlook this deceit and allow you to ascend. With conditions we will discuss, at length, at a later date.”
I would take it. It wasn’t the win I wanted, but goddess, I would take it.
“However,” she began, and my chest contracted until breathing hurt, “I will endorse you because of your actions. Today and every day since your arrival in Atlanta, you have put these people first. You have shown me that perhaps not all dybbuk are the demons we have feared them to be, and for that reason, I will offer you a pardon for your deceit as Hadley Whitaker.”
Neck bowed until it ached, I rasped, “Thank you.”
“Kneel.”
That snapped my head up, and I couldn’t help staring at the very sharp blade on her very long sword.
“Kneel.”
From the moment I claimed Hadley Whitaker as my name, I had been living on borrowed time. Had I chosen a quiet life, I could have lived it to its completion with no one ever being the wiser. But I had chosen to step into the spotlight, to welcome inspection, to offer myself up to the public eye and tell them to look their fill as I led by example. Or died trying.
With an embarrassing amount of effort, I knelt before her and lowered my head once more, hoping the gorgeous pantsuit Neely had designed for tonight wouldn’t end up being what I wore to my own funeral.
“Show me your palms.”
The Grande Dame drew her blade across each hand before my sluggish brain processed the sting.
“Place your wounds flush with the pavement,” she instructed. “This will hurt, but it will be a brief pain.”
Following her instructions, I let my blood seep into the concrete in a crimson stain.
“Repeat after me.” She loomed over me, her shadow eclipsing mine. “I, Hadley Whitaker, claim this city and its people. I place them under my protection until such time that I am no longer called upon to defend them, either by choice or by disgrace or by death.”
The last line freaked me out a little, as it should, but I got it out all in one go.
“Atlanta is mine to protect, mine to tend, and mine to caretake. Its people are mine to defend, mine to nurture, and mine to rule by the laws set down by the Society in the best interests of the people.”
She let me stumble through that bit then smiled in the faint way her son had inherited from her.
A slight pressure filled my head, and a faint presence whispered through my mind, soothing and familiar.
Atlanta.
The bond was fragile, barely rooted, but it was there, and I would help it grow.
“Hold steady,” she ordered, lifting the blade. “You won’t feel a thing.”
The tip of the blade brushed my left shoulder, and I tasted bile.
“Amelie Madison is dead.”
The sword lifted, leaving my head attached, then tapped on my right.
“Long live Hadley Whitaker, the Potentate of Atlanta.”
A hand appeared in my line of sight, and I pressed a kiss to her knuckles like they do in the movies.
“That was…unnecessary.” She wiped her hand on her pants. “I was merely going to help you stand.”
“Oh,” I said meekly. “I was just grateful to still have my head.”
The Grande Dame laughed, a short bark that raised the hairs down the back of my neck.
“Rise,” she ordered me. “Begin your reign as you mean to go on, Hadley Whitaker.”
One at a time, I wedged my feet under me. Slowly, painfully, I stood. Then, still eyeing that sword, inched back just in case. “What about the vote?”
“As it happens, there is no written law stating the vote must occur after the trial. Only that the trial must be completed for the results to be validated.” She extended her hand. “Your mate explained the situation. We voted while you were off saving the day. It was a masterful stroke, you know. Had anyone been on the fence, they would have sided with you based on your actions tonight alone.”
After I wiped my palm clean, I took her hand. “I did what I thought was right.”
“That is why my son chose you, why these people have chosen you.”
The magic burst around us, fizzling until the gauntlet was released back into the rest of the city.
Thrusting my arm in the air, she called out, “I give you Hadley Whitaker, the Potentate of Atlanta.”
Cheers and screams erupted, their volume deafening. A chant began, picking up speed, and I wept.
Long may she reign. Long may she reign. Long may she reign.
“Thank you,” I murmured to the Grande Dame. “For your mercy.”
“Tell my son, when you see him, that he and I have much to discuss.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
The Grande Dame inclined her head to me then made her way to a waiting crimson sedan.
Strong arms enclosed me from behind and lifted me off my feet. “Congratulations.”
Midas’s warmth at my back allowed me to relax for the first time in what felt like forever. “Thanks.”
The Remys swarmed
