“I’m just nervous, I think. You know what I’m like in public.”

His hand tightened on mine. “Well, I’ll be here with you. And don’t think of them as strangers—think of them as family. We’re all very close. In fact—” he looked into the room behind him, then grinned, “—we have a bonfire night coming up. Maybe you should come. It’d be a good chance for you to get to know some of the men.”

“Yeah? Am I allowed to go to things like that, you know, Core gatherings?”

“Yeah, baby, of course you can. You’re still my best friend. I’d love to have you there.”

“Okay. Cool. I’ll come then.”

“Great.” He grinned and tugged me along to the openness of the doors, right where everyone would be able to see me. My heart told my lungs to take faster breaths, but they wouldn’t listen. “Wait here a sec.” He dropped my hand and walked forward; I waited in the shadows under the eaves. “Atteeention!” he said, standing straight and tall; a unified clap echoed off the bare walls as the men stomped one foot to the ground, dropping their arms to their sides.

My lips twitched with the urge to laugh at the seriousness on all of their faces.

“Men?” Mike called out. “We have trained hard. We have sweat blood—” he pointed to someone at the back of the room, “—and there have even been some tears. But what you have worked towards is finally here. I present to you, my friend and your future queen—Princess Amara.”

I stepped into the room and it grew bigger as the space from hip height up emptied, each man dropping to one knee, slapping a fist over his heart. And I became smaller, not really sure what to do. “Um, hi.” I waved clumsily, instantly wanting to slap myself.

“At ease, men,” Mike said loudly, then looked at me.

The room crowded again as they stood tall, eyes forward—on me.

With each step Mike took, pacing the floors, addressing the men about the day’s training activities, I tried to step behind him, staying out of sight. I caught the gaze of a few men, who gave a soft nod or a small smile of what I assumed was reassurance. I felt ridiculous, but watching them, the way they responded to Mike’s orders, the way they stood, the very manner of the room, I realised that this was real to them. I’d never really stopped to think about it, but the truth was, I was their future queen. To them it was something regal, something magnificent—to me, it was like someone stole my life and was telling me how to live it. But these guys were here, offering their lives in service of what they believed to be real—to protect something important to a lot of people. I suddenly didn’t feel so ridiculous. I started imagining each one with Lilithian power, wondering what special gift they might have—if any at all.

“Okay.” Mike clapped his hands together. “Break up into groups of six. I want three-on-three sparring.” The room came alive then with the sudden movement of fifty men, and the noise rose up between the mirrors on the walls, bouncing off the hard wood floors, filling the room with more energy than my headache could handle. I rubbed my temples until Mike pulled my hand away. “Come on. Time to meet your Private Guard.”

“Okay.” I half walked, half looked over my shoulder at all the men, dispersed to every corner of the room, lining up sparring mats and grabbing swords from holders on the walls. They all just looked so cool. Like my very own video game, but with real blood. “Are they allowed to cut each other like that?”

Mike looked behind him. “You only get cut if you’re fooling around. These guys are trained to attack and block. They get cut, it’s their own fault.”

My eyes widened in horror.

“Ara, relax. We don’t usually have too many casualties. They spar fair and aim not to cut—for now. That’ll change soon.”

“Oh, okay.”

“And these four, fine men here—” We stopped in a mirrored section at the end of the room, where four men waited in a line; their hands behind their backs, chins slightly lifted, feet set apart, “—are your Private Guard.”

“Hey,” I said, giving a friendly wave, this time not so awkward.

“Men,” Mike said. “I’ll introduce you by name. Step forward as I address you. Ryder.”

The first man marched up, stomping his foot down hard, then clapped his arms to his sides.

“Hi,” I said; he nodded once, looking away quickly.

“Quaid,” Mike said, and the next man came to stand in line with the first; he was shorter than Ryder, but bulkier across the shoulders, with short, shaggy hair and black skin.

I nodded at Quaid when our eyes met for a second before he looked away.

“This guy is Falcon,” Mike announced, and the man took a step toward us; he had a strong jaw, square, covered with a slight brush of sandy stubble, like a broader, more serious version of Mike. I didn’t even bother trying to greet him, because he looked like he’d sooner lecture me than say hello.

When the last man stepped forward and planted his hands behind his back, he smiled at me, winking as he did. He had a cheeky grin, the kind that always got me into trouble, while his shaved hair matched his black eyes perfectly.

“This is Blade.” Mike clapped him on the shoulder.

“Blade?” I said.

The four men turned their heads slightly to look at me.

“I’m sorry—it’s just a strange name,” I stammered.

“It’s a nickname,” Mike said, and all the men cast their eyes forward again.

“Oh, okay.” I looked directly at the last knight. “Why Blade?”

“I know how to handle one pretty well,” Blade said, his English accent knocking a breath of surprise from me.

“So, you’re from England?”

“Once.” He nodded.

“What did you do before you came here?”

“Black Ops.” He grinned, running a hand over his hair. “I was kind of their secret weapon.”

“Hm.” I nodded then turned to Mike. “Way to go, Chief—good team.” I looked back at Blade then. “So, they won’t miss you, will they? At your old job?”

Blade laughed. “Doubt it, Princess. I went a little rogue—had a contract out on me.”

“Contract?”

“Death warrant,” Mike said.

My eyes widened, but I smiled when Blade brushed it off with an ultra cool shrug.

“So, then, what do you mean by you went rogue?”

Mike took me by the arm and led me away from the men. “Not rogue in the way you think, baby. He’s a good guy—follows orders, but not when he deems them unethical.”

I grinned widely. “Exactly the kind of guy we need, then.”

“Right. I hoped you’d say that.” Mike looked back at the guys for a second, lowering his voice. “If I had to pick any one of these men to fight for you, it’d be him.”

“Is he that good?”

Mike laughed. “Good isn’t really the right word.”

“Well then—” I spun slowly in a circle, taking in the now shirtless, sweaty surrounds of my knights, “—guess we better start training.”

“You heard her, men.” Mike clapped his hands together loudly and my four knights broke apart, lifting their shirts off or wrapping their wrists in black tape. “Take your shoes off, baby, or you’ll trip over.” He motioned down to my flip-flops.

I kicked my feet out of them and felt shorter without the whole millimetre of height they added. “So, what exactly do you teach them here? Why are those guys all sitting down looking at that whiteboard?”

“They’re being briefed on an external training op, but, aside from fighting skills and fitness, we actually teach the history of our people, so the Core have a clear idea where we’ve come from and what we hope to achieve.” He went to walk away but stopped. “Oh, and we also teach human skills, too—like how a vampire can blend in with the humans, you know, how not to break a hand when shaking, how to make quick exits in awkward situations and the ins and outs of identity change. And there’re a few guys who don't speak English, so we have language classes, too.”

“Good idea,” I said with a smile. “So where are their uniforms?” I nodded toward one of the guys wearing black sweats and a black t-shirt.

“We don’t train in uniform usually, but even if I wanted them to dress formally today to meet their princess, it wouldn’t have been possible.”

“Why?”

“Emily.” He grinned.

“Emily?”

“Yes. I had the knights in uniform last month when she came to visit and she nearly died at the sight of them—said there is no way her best friend’s army is going to walk around in clothes they stripped off King Arthur’s corpse.”

I laughed out loud. “Oh, I love that girl. She’s so funny.”

“Yeah.” Mike chuckled. “So, she actually designed the new get-up. It’s been approved already and we’re shipping them out as we speak.”

“Shipping? From where?”

“Sweden. The Ninth Order should be getting them today, but ours will take another week or so.”

“Cool. Not a big rush anyway, right. I mean, what do they need uniforms for? It’s all a little silly, if you ask me.”

“No, it’s not.” Mike glared at me. “This is not some joke, Ara—a bunch of guys getting together to play dress-up. This is an army, and when you unite a group of people together for one greater purpose, order, uniformity and respect must be an adamant part of that collection. Wearing an outfit that represents who you are and what you work for is a matter of pride—not some ridiculous gesture by a guy who wants to play pretend.”

My mouth fell open. “Mike? What happened to you—you’re all…grown up.”

A warm, mischievous grin turned one corner of his mouth. “Yes, Ara. I have to be. I’m the man responsible to defend the most valuable thing in all of our lives—” he winked at me, “—our freedom.”

I laughed, patting his arm. “And you are the best man for the job.”

“I know.” He nodded and wandered over to a table of weapons.

“Um, so, I get that you’re using venom-tipped swords, and all, and maybe this is a stupid question, but, wouldn’t it just be easier to bite the vamps instead of doing all this weapons training and stuff?”

“These guys will need those weapons, Ara.” He presented the greater mass of the knights. “We’re only turning the four knights in your personal guard into what I am. The rest, I’m going to turn when it’s time. So, we need weapons training because their bite won’t kill vamps. The only way will be with venom-tipped swords.”

“Really? So, I don’t have to bite all of them?” I asked, pointing to the group of giant, well-toned men.

Mike smiled softly. “No. We don’t need fifty men that can kill vampires. Me and the four Private Guard should do.”

I bounced my head with approval. “Smart thinking.”

“Well, it was actually Morgaine’s idea.”

“So, are those swords tipped yet?” I pointed to the table.

Mike slid a long, silver, very heavy-looking piece of metal out of the pile and smoothed his fingers down it. “No. We keep those ones in the armoury. This one’s for training purposes only. We never, ever keep venom-tipped swords in the training hall, Ara, and if one even got in here by mistake, someone would be in big trouble.”

“Why?”

“See that Asian guy over there?” He pointed to the back of the room.

“I see about twelve Asian guys over there.”

He laughed. “Well, anyway, one of our knights is a vampire.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and I have several more—guys I trust, who are joining the Core this week.”

“Okay, so, no venom-tipped swords.”

“Right, and no biting.”

I nodded.

“Here.” He gently tossed the sword to me. It spun through the air, handle driving a path, and my hand shot up to catch it, nearly taking me backward with the force I used—way too much for such a light piece of metal. “Still not used to all this strength, huh?” Mike laughed, taking a sword of his own.

“Not yet.” I smiled and looked down the blade, feeling its weight in my hands, light, like it was a strangely-shaped broomstick. “So, how do you make the venom stay on the tip? Wouldn’t it wear off after two jabs?”

“Nope. Have you actually looked at venom, Ara?”

I shook my head.

“It’s thick—like blood. When it dries, it doesn’t lose its potency. If we coloured it blue and wiped it all over this blade, when it dried, you’d still see blue, and like salt, it sticks around in tiny particles. You only need the smallest amount to touch their bloodstream.”

“What about when the sword gets really bloody?”

“It just lubricates the dried venom and makes it act faster. I haven’t tested, but we reckon you could get about a hundred kills from each sword.”

“Oh, cool. Well, there are only about a thousand vampires in existence, isn’t there, so that should be fine?”

“You got it. Now—” He grabbed my fingers and tightened my grip on the sword. “I wanna see how you handle yourself with this thing. Don’t drop it, okay?”

“Mike.” I rolled my eyes. “I can probably handle this thing better than you.”