Page 52 of Vanquished Gods

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Page 52 of Vanquished Gods

“Do you miss him? Anselm?” I asked.

She cleared her throat as she lowered her fork. She was probably wishing she hadn’t brought his name into it. We’d both been in love with him at one point, until I started to kill people with my touch, and then Lydia was finally able to get what she wanted.

She lowered her fork. “Yes, I do miss Anselm, of course. I’ve loved him for my whole life. But we have a higher calling now, don’t we? The Order has been a toxin poisoning our kingdom since before we were born. You and I have the chance to fix that. We’re in the perfect place to hone our craft, and to help them make the navka pendants. And we’re not exactly deprived here, are we? We’re fed the best food, we live in luxury, and we’re completely safe.”

I lift my wineglass. “It is gorgeous here. The food, the clothes, the private bathtub. The views of the sea.” I raised my hands. “And I admit that I can now understand why a thrall would live here. Even without wanting to become a vampire, it’s a million times better than living as a beggar in the streets of Penore. It’s a better life than that of the women who have to endure sweaty thrusting in alleyways just to get enough money for food, or those thrown into prison for debt. But the danger? I’m not entirely convinced. Because if it it’s safe, can anyone tell me what all the screaming is in the castle? I hear it all the time.”

Maelor glanced at Sion. “Have you heard the screaming?”

Sion shrugged. “I’ll ask Aelius to look into it. I’ve appointed him as a temporary seneschal until Bran returns.”

“Have you heard anything about Bran?” asked Maelor.

I took a long, deep sip of my wine.

Sion twirled his wineglass between his fingers. “Not a word. When you interrogated that Luminarus from Ruefield, did you happen to ask him about Bran?”

“I did,” said Maelor. “But the man had no idea what I was talking about.”

“Do you think he was telling the truth?”

Maelor rested his elbows on the table and threaded his fingers together. “I’m certain he was telling the truth. If Bran is there, he didn’t know it. The Luminarus was in excruciating pain, and he gave up every other secret that I wanted to know.”

“I never had you pegged for a torturer, Maelor,” I said.

Sion shrugged slowly. “When it comes down to it, all vampires are survivors. We do what we must. Even those of us with polite manners, like Maelor. Survival instinct is what drives a vampire—that, and protecting our own. Maelor’s instinct told him that he needed to batter that soldier within an inch of his life until he gave up every secret that could save our lives. And you know what? Maelor’s instincts were correct.”

“I did let him live,” said Maelor quietly.

Sion lifted his goblet in a toast. He took a sip, then frowned at his glass. “I must say, it’s never as good as the fresh blood, is it?”

Protecting our own.

If they knew that I’d lit one of their oldest friends on fire, what would they do? Unease settled in my chest, and I took another long sip of the wine, letting myself build a little bit of a buzz.

“Careful, Elowen,” said Lydia. “You know how you get when you drink too much.”

I glared at her over the rim of my glass. “That was a long time ago.”

Sion’s golden eyes danced with amusement. “Oh, I absolutely have to hear this story.”

Lydia smiled across the table at me. “Elowen got drunk on mead. She stripped off her clothes at the beach, in front of me and Anselm, and then convinced us to run into the sea, naked as the day we were born. She said the goddess of the depths was calling to her.”

“I knew you used to be fun,” Sion murmured.

I cocked my head. “Well, something about killing everyone I touched dampened my spirits, I guess. Can’t say why.”

I leaned back in my chair, and as I did, something sharp pierced the skin on my forearm. I looked down to see blood streaming from a gash in my arm.

What the hell had caused that? I narrowed my eyes on a tiny razor clam shell that someone had affixed to the arm of my chair.

As I did, shadows spilled around me, the room growing colder, darker. When I looked up, I found Maelor’s eyes locked on me, darkening to black. His gaze slowly slid to the blood on my arm. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. The Maelor I knew had disappeared, leaving only wild hunger behind. He was unleashing; the monster inside him was coming out.

A knot tightened in my chest.

It was at that moment I realized I hadn’t drunk my hawthorn tincture that day, and I shifted backward in my chair.

CHAPTER 24




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