"The treatises described exactly this effect." I stepped back from Nathaniel's bed, needing distance to think clearly. "Pregnant women as beacons, the double heartbeat drawing vampires from impossible distances. But they never explained the larger pattern. Why Alistair? Why target a minor lord when greater prizes exist?"
Nathaniel shifted against the headboard, bandages pulling tight across his chest. "Because Alistair isn't the only target. He's one piece in a spreading infection."
"Explain."
"The Order's been tracking this for months." His voice dropped to battlefield urgency. "An elder vampire—ancient, methodical—has been turning nobility across three counties. Not randomly. Strategically."
My hands clenched in my skirts. "Who?"
"Lord Pemberton's eldest son in Whitmore. The magistrate's heir in Ashford. Two merchant princes in the northern ports." He counted them off on scarred fingers. "Always young men with inheritance rights. Always turned quietly, then left to maintain their positions while the elder withdraws."
"A pattern." Ice crystallized in my chest.
"A coup." Nathaniel's eyes burned with conviction. "The Order mapped it out—each turned noble becomes a node in the network. They keep their titles, their lands, their authority. But now they serve something older than England itself."
"You're describing conquest through bloodline." The full weight of it crashed over me. "Not armies or politics, but heredity itself weaponized."
"Exactly. In fifty years, maybe less, the elder commands inherited power across the entire region. Magistrates, lords, merchant houses—all vampires, all connected by the blood that made them."
"And Alistair?" My voice cracked on his name. "How does he fit?"
"Blackwood estate controls the southern trade routes. Your husband sits on three regulatory boards. His signature authorizes military movements through this district."
Nathaniel leaned forward, fervor brightening his battered face.
"He's perfectly positioned—not powerful enough to draw scrutiny, but influential enough to matter."
"So the Order's solution is murder?" I straightened my spine, fury burning through fear. "Execute every turned noble regardless of their actions?"
"Rank doesn't grant immunity from justice."
"What justice?" I moved toward the door, then spun back. "Alistair never chose this. He was attacked, turned against his will. He's harmed no one, fed only on animals. You'd execute him for the crime of survival?"
"Choice becomes irrelevant once the hunger exists."
Nathaniel pushed himself more upright, jaw locked with pain and certainty both.
"Every vampire eventually feeds on humans. Not from malice—from nature. Your husband will break, Helena. When he does, whoever he drains won't care that he resisted longer than most."
"You don't know that."
"I know what I've seen in twenty years of hunting." His voice carried the weight of too many corpses. "Good men, loving fathers, devoted priests—all turned, all swearing they'd never harm anyone. Every single one eventually failed. The hunger always wins."
"Not always. Not Alistair."
"Helena—"
"I'm glad you're alive." I gripped the door handle hard enough to hurt. "I'm grateful you're recovering. But if you move against my husband, I'll stop you."
"You can't stop the Order."
"Watch me." I yanked the door open. "Alistair has the protection of the Blackwood name, Blackwood walls, and Blackwood wife. That includes protection from misguided knights who see monsters where men still stand."
I left before he could respond, descending narrow stairs that echoed with my racing heartbeat. The servants' wing felt suffocating, its familiar passages suddenly foreign territory.
"Helena."
Kathrin materialized at the corridor junction, silk skirts rustling with aggressive purpose. "I've been looking for you everywhere."
"I was checking on Mr. Crowe." I forced my voice steady. "Lady Maeve and I helped rescue him last night. I wanted to ensure his recovery progressed well."
"In his bedchamber?" Kathrin's eyebrows arched like drawn weapons. "Alone?"
"He's badly injured. I stayed in the doorway."
"A lady does not visit servants' quarters." Each word was like a knife stroke. "Especially male servants. Especially alone. The impropriety alone could destroy your reputation."
"I was concerned—"
"Concern can be expressed through proper channels. Send Nicholas to inquire. Have Dr. Morrison report. But never—never—enter a man's private chamber under any pretense."
"You're right." I lowered my gaze in calculated submission. "I apologize. The shock of last night's violence affected my judgment."
"See that it doesn't happen again." She started to turn, then pivoted back with predatory sharpness. "One more thing."
My pulse spiked.
"Nicholas reported something interesting." Kathrin's voice could have frozen flame. "He said you recently had business with our hunter. Private business that required discussion away from the house."
The blood in my veins turned to ice water. "We discussed trap placement."
"Trap placement?" Skepticism dripped from every syllable.
"The spring birthing season approaches. More predators will hunt near tenant holdings."
I met her gaze directly, letting truth anchor the lie.
"I wanted the traps set away from where children play and workers travel. Nathaniel objected, claiming I didn't understand pest control. He insisted others should mind their steps rather than adjust his arrangements."
"And this required a private meeting?"
"It required me asserting authority over an employee who forgot his place." I let aristocratic frost creep into my tone. "Some conversations are better held away from gossiping ears."
Kathrin studied me with the intensity of a woman who'd caught three husbands in various deceptions. Her mouth opened—another question forming—then closed. She lacked proof, and we both knew it.
"Be more careful, Helena." The warning carried multiple edges. "The estate watches everything. Some observations could be... misinterpreted."
"I'll remember that."
She swept past me toward the main house, leaving me alone with the weight of lies I'd just stacked like kindling.
Each one would burn eventually. The question was whether I'd find a way to protect Alistair before the fire caught.