Page 13 of Vanquished Gods
Sion rose from his chair, towering over the hall. “But that is what happens to traitors here. Aelthwin was discovered trying to contact the Order using one of the witches’ messenger crows. He wanted to tell the Pater all about Gwethel, along with instructions on how to attack our little haven here, in exchange for titles and land.” He flashed a smile that would have beendevastatingly charming if he weren’t standing over a corpse. “The good news is his message will not make it to the Pater. The bad news is he wasn’t working alone, and that means we’re not done here. Aelthwin could neither read nor write, and someone else wrote the letter for him. In fact, another man’s scent was all over the paper.”
He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes.
After a moment, his eyes snapped open again, the gold darkening to black. His body went eerily still—the preternatural calm of a ruthless hunter. Shadows stained the air around him. Around the hall, fires flickered in torches.
The silence felt heavy, sharp with tension. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath.
Gods, I wanted to get away from this place and back to the nice little witch village with the colored windows and pies and normal?—
Before I could finish the thought, Sion whipped into a blur of motion, a streak of shadow across the stone hall. A sharp crack echoed off the vaulted ceiling…and one of the thralls fell to the floor, his neck bent at a disturbing angle, eyes staring lifelessly. Sion stood over the man’s dead body. He frowned down at the man by his feet.
“Yes. This was the scent. Waste of a death, really, but I wasn’t very hungry.” He raised his gold eyes to me. “Elowen. Let’s go somewhere more pleasant, shall we?”
Adeline sidled up by my side, coming from who knew where, and smiled coyly at him. “I can show the Underworld Queen to her room. She needs new clothes. Elegant clothes befitting of Donn Hall.”
I was still staring at the dead blond at Sion’s feet. Elegance wasn’t my overall impression of this castle so far.
Adeline clapped her hands. “Servants! Bring our Underworld Queen some refreshments.”
“No need. I’ll show her to her chamber and make sure she has what she needs,” said Sion.
“Surely you needn’t trouble yourself, Your Majesty,” Adeline cooed. “I can take her.”
“Ah, but I can’t deprive her of my company.” He turned, and with the faintest curl of his lips, he winked at me. “Elowen simply adores every moment with me.”
And as he turned to lead me deeper into the castle’s shadowed corridors, a cold knot of dread tightened in my chest.
There was no turning back now.
CHAPTER 7
Sion led me through halls of ancient stone arches, which swept over us. A cool breeze whispered and rattled through the towering windows. The glass had a dark blue sheen that cast the halls in an otherworldly light. One hall stretched on like long a winter night, so vast I could hardly see the end of it. Heavy tapestries hung on one side, the battle images rich with death and valor. I found myself staring at one of them: a cloaked man, his sword soaked in crimson, the image so vibrant it looked in danger of bleeding onto the flagstones.
Sion cocked his head at a tapestry. “Ah, the battles of Lirion. We lost in the end, but the vampires managed to keep Sumaire and the Isle of Gwethel for ourselves. We fought until our bodies fed the earth with our blood, and then we fought on, beyond death, and we have never stopped.”
“You were turned on the battlefield, right? Fighting to keep Lirion free?”
“Exactly. A vampire known as the Mormaer had been watching Maelor and me. He thought we were skilled enough, brave enough to receive the gift of eternal life. But he’s not exactly trustworthy. I don’t speak to him much these days.”
“Have you ever regretted losing your soul and turning into what you are now?” I asked.
“Losing my soul? What does that even mean?”
“Maelor said that when he became a vampire, he lost his soul…that he used to see colors when he wrote, and now he feels nothing.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Has it ever occurred to you that the man is deeply depressed? When a vampire turns, he becomes a more intense version of who he was before. And Maelor lost his reason for living before he died. If I had to define what a soul is, I’d say it’s that—a reason for living. And admittedly, it’s much harder to find purpose when life stretches on into infinity. Vampires frequently struggle against the endlessness of it all. Death, with its final stroke, carves meaning into the blank slate of a fleeting life. But I have found a way to forge my own, even with immortality. So, no, I have no regrets, and I still have a soul. I still have a purpose.”
I wanted to ask him what his reason for living was, but the faint sound of a woman screaming swept through the castle halls, sending a shiver up my spine. “What is that?”
“No idea. Probably one of the thralls. Humans are always panicking about something. You know how they are. ‘Oh, don’t kill me, I have so much to live for.’” Disdain dripped from his voice.
“That is what happens when you’re mortal. You try toavoiddeath.”
“Right. Another reason I don’t regret becoming a vampire. Humans are always two heartbeats away from expiring.”
I stared at him. “Only when you’re around, you do realize. If you left them alone, they’d be fine.”
“They age awfully fast from my perspective. Tell me, Elowen, do you ever get bored of being so judgmental, or does theself-righteousness keep you entertained during the long, lonely nights?”