The Guardians Chronicles

Several guests were already gathered in the Great Hall when Keira arrived.

She paused just inside the doorway, fingers self-consciously smoothing the midnight-blue satin over her hips.

Thank goodness I packed this, she thought. The dress skimmed her figure in all the right places and, for once, she was grateful for her last-minute “just in case” packing impulse.

Men in tuxedos stood in small clusters, low conversation threaded with the clink of crystal. Women glittered in silks and jewel tones beneath the soft light of wrought-iron chandeliers.

By the fireplace, Marco leaned casually against the wall. White shirt, black jacket open, bow tie just slightly loosened. Rafael and Chloe stood with him, Chloe laughing at something Rafael had just said. Nearby, Simone perched on the arm of a leather couch, dressed in a pale gold dress and looking like she’d stepped out of a high-fashion spread and wandered into a medieval painting.

“Miss Keira, I presume?” A laughing male voice pulled her attention away from the fireplace.

She turned to find a rakish-looking young man bowing low in front of her, ash-blond hair falling over one eye in a way that said charm more than accident.

“My name is Brian Smith. At your service.” He straightened, grinning, and swept his fringe back with a quick flick of his fingers.

“Nice to meet you, Brian,” Keira said, returning the smile.

“Welcome to Casa de la Guardians.” He pressed a small glass of sherry into her hand and tapped his glass gently against it. “What do you think so far?”

“Well, I only arrived this afternoon,” she said. “But what I’ve seen so far has been… impressive.”

“Wait till you see the rest,” Brian said. “I’d be happy to act as tour guide. Provided our slave master lets us have any free time.”

“Slave master?” Keira arched a brow.

“Marco,” Brian said, nodding toward the fireplace. “He’s put us on high alert.”

“Because of the Council meeting?” Keira asked. “Or because of Daemon?”

Brian’s eyebrows shot up. “You know about him?”

She took a sip of sherry, letting the warmth settle her nerves. “A little. I had a crash course from Victoria on the way here.”

“Ah.” He sobered. “Well, yes. Both. We always tighten security when the whole Council’s in one place. But Daemon…”

“Will be sorted as soon as I get my hands around his throat!” a booming voice cut in.

Keira’s hand was suddenly engulfed in a grip like a hydraulic vice and pumped enthusiastically up and down.

“Howdy, I’m Adam.” The man looming over her looked like someone had crossed a rugby forward with a grizzly bear and stuffed the result into a tuxedo. “You must be Keira. I’ve heard a hell of a lot about you. Damn glad to meet you!”

Keira grinned, wincing slightly as she tried to reclaim her fingers. Adam’s smile was huge and surprisingly boyish, almost at odds with the sheer size of him.

“You’ll have to get in line, mate,” Brian said cheerfully. “There’s a list of volunteers wanting a shot at that bastard.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know you’ve got no chance against me,” Adam hit back, smile turning into a dare.

“So, you’re both Draaken?” Keira jumped in quickly, sensing that “friendly banter” could turn into an actual sparring match with very little warning.

“Yes, ma’am,” Brian said. “I’ve been here longer than Adam, though.”

“That’s right, old man,” Adam said. “You could toddle back to England and let the Aussie handle things.”

“Australia,” Keira said, latching onto the safer topic like a lifeline. “I’ve never been.”

“Oh, you should come,” Adam brightened instantly. “We’ll show you proper beaches, not that frigid stuff you’ve got—”

“Keira.”

Victoria’s voice cut across the hall like a warm breeze. Keira looked up to find her aunt beckoning.

She excused herself from Adam and Brian with a smile of relief and crossed the room.

Victoria stood with an older gentleman who had a shock of white hair and a magnificent walrus moustache. In copper silk and black velvet, she looked every bit the queen of this particular castle.

“Keira, I’d like you to meet one of my oldest friends and colleagues, Mr Leonardo Savelli,” Victoria said.

“Buona sera, bella,” he said, taking Keira’s hand and bowing over it with old-world elegance. “It is a pleasure.”

“Leo is the Leader of the Italian Families and a member of the Council,” Victoria added.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr Savelli,” Keira said, genuinely charmed.

“Please, call me Leo,” he said, eyes twinkling.

“I see you’ve already met Brian and Adam,” Victoria went on, with a nod toward the two men who had trailed after her and now hovered, clearly unwilling to abandon their new charge.

“Yes. Brian’s already offered to show me around the castle,” Keira said.

“Which he won’t be doing any time soon,” Marco’s voice came from just behind her. “He’s on guard duty. Your shift starts in fifteen minutes, Brian.”

“Yes, boss.” Brian gave a theatrical salute, then flashed Keira a conspiratorial wink. “Rain check on that tour.”

“Toodles,” Adam called after him with a grin.

“Marco, would you introduce Keira to the others before we go in to dinner?” Victoria asked.

Adam looked like he wanted to add something but thought better of it. He stepped back as Marco offered his arm.

“Shall we?” Marco asked.

Keira placed her hand lightly on his sleeve. Heat flared under her palm, and she resolutely ignored it.

They crossed to where Zina stood speaking with a distinguished man whose posture was deceptively relaxed.

“You’ve met Zina,” Marco said. “This is my mentor, Chetan.”

Chetan inclined his head. He wore a simple leather thong around his neck, hung with a burnished copper pendant shaped like a stylised flame, the metal glinting softly in the firelight. Keira couldn’t sense anything overt from him, but something in her instincts whispered dangerous—not in a threatening way, just… contained. Like a storm in human skin.

“Keira,” he said in greeting. “I go by a different name when I’m taking care of business in New York. But among the Guardians, I use my Sioux tribal name.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Keira said.

“You look beautiful,” Zina added, her smile warm.

Keira thought she heard Marco murmur, “I agree,” under his breath. She wasn’t entirely sure, his voice was pitched low, but Zina flicked him an amused look that told Keira she hadn’t imagined it.

Before she could decide how to feel about that, a polite voice joined the circle.

“May I join you?”

Keira turned to see a neatly dressed Japanese man, his dark hair threaded with discreet silver, bowing slightly.

“Of course,” Marco said. “Mr Yoshibumi Harigaya, this is Ms Keira Wilde.”

“Konbanwa, Miss Wilde,” Mr Harigaya said, bowing again.

“Konbanwa, Harigaya-san. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu,” Keira replied, returning the bow as best she could manage in heels.

His brows lifted in surprise. “You speak Japanese?”

“Only the basics,” Keira said, a little embarrassed. “I’ve always been fascinated by Japanese culture. I’d love to visit your country one day. Are you also Draaken?”

“No,” he said, smiling faintly. “The Asian Families have sent me as an observer to your Council. We have our own way of honouring the Akasha, our own structures. But recent events are concerning. It may be time for us to join forces. The decision will rest with my Elders, once I report back.”

A bell chimed, clear and bright, announcing dinner.

Before Marco could move, Mr Harigaya courteously offered his arm. “May I?” he asked.

“Thank you,” Keira said, and let him escort her to the dining hall, feeling Marco’s gaze like a weight between her shoulder blades.

She was grateful to find Chloe seated at her side. Throughout the meal, Chloe provided a running, discreet commentary—names, Families, who led where, who had historically sided with whom. She pointed out where other Council members would be seated once they arrived the next day.

By the time dessert arrived, Keira had a far clearer picture of how widely the Guardians were spread: names from every continent, branches of Families she’d never heard mentioned in any of Victoria’s drawing-room anecdotes.

Through subtle questions, Keira learned that Marco’s family was the most influential in South America.

“His father led the Santana Family for years. When he died, Marco took his place. At twenty-four, he’s one of the youngest Family Leaders in the world. And on top of that, he commands the Draaken,” Chloe continued. “Everyone assumes he’ll take Victoria’s place as Chair of the Council when she steps down.”

“His father died recently?” Keira asked.

“Yes.” Chloe’s voice dipped. “Not long after the accident that killed his sister and brother-in-law.”

“That’s… awful,” she said quietly.

Keira looked up and caught Marco’s brooding eyes staring at her from across the table. He lifted his glass to her in a silent toast and she looked away quickly, feeling flustered, her stomach doing a completely unwanted flip.

Ask Aunt Victoria later, she told herself. When it’s just the two of you.

The evening wound on and conversations ebbed and flowed. Wine was poured, stories told, small alliances reinforced with laughter and shared dessert.

It was a few minutes before midnight when Victoria rose.

“Friends,” she said, her voice carrying effortlessly over the room, “thank you for your company this evening. Tomorrow will be a long day. I wish you all a good night.”

Chairs scraped softly as people rose. Victoria crossed the room to where Keira sat.

She rested her hands lightly on Keira’s shoulders and bent to kiss her cheek. Up close, the faint lines of fatigue around her eyes were more visible.

“Good night, darling,” she whispered. “Remember, no matter what happens, I love you. And I have absolute faith in you.”

Emotion burned in Keira’s throat. “I love you too, Aunt Vic,” she said, covering one of the older woman’s hands with her own.

Victoria gave her shoulders a last, gentle squeeze, then straightened, mask of composed authority already sliding back into place as she turned toward the door.

Keira watched her go, a strange mixture of dread and determination coiling tight in her chest.

Tomorrow, the Council would meet.

Tomorrow, everything changed.