Page 15 of The Ballad of the Vampire Prince

The council members murmur and I wait with bated breaths for him to continue.

“The fae’s bounty was generous enough that the rebel leader Akaloth decided to spare all the prisoners. He even allowed them to write a letter home,” Caladrim says, pushing the box forward. “Here are the ones from the Maiden of Arawynn and her escorts.”

My pulse thrums with anticipation as he passes around the letters. Blaire’s letter is placed at the centre of the table on display.

“This handwriting belongs to the maiden…?” General Raleich asks, arching his well-groomed dark brow.

The chamber falls silent as we all stare at Blaire’s chicken scratch scribblings.

Duvall’s laughter filters through the air. “No wonder she is rejected by the Demon Lord and the Orc King.”

“But it’s interesting that she interlaced them with proper cursive and calligraphy,” Lord Wesley says politely. “Perhaps her hand is injured.”

Emotion clogs my throat as I study the letter.

It contains mostly of directions for the next Arawynn maiden, but I read the three most important words.

I am safe.

I read the three words over and over in Blaire’s voice as they play in my head. My friend hates the pretentious, flowery writingthey forced us to learn at the temples. If she’s using her original strokes, it means she meant those words.

This is a message for me to believe in her.

There are also symbols in there that only Blaire and I use as our secret code. A hidden message meant only for me.

Trust me, Rhianelle. I have a plan.

The Elders are lying.

“Enough matters of the maiden!” Lord Baldar grunts, slamming his hand on the table lightly. The temperamental lord comes from a neighboring region close to Windhaven, Mistward. “We have a bigger issue at hand. There is a killer on the loose.”

Tension wrinkles the corner of Lord Wesley’s jaw as he responds in a solemn voice, “Yes, seven more bodies were found in the alley yesterday.”

It feels like someone has filled my lungs with stones. I can’t seem to catch my breath.

Ninety-eight deaths now.

And it all started a week ago, exactly a day after we arrived at Windhaven.

“This must be a joke. Are we really searching for an unknown culprit?” Kharlis of Vorathil asks sharply. “It’s obvious that this is the work of the vampire.”

Bitterness clogs my throat at the claim.

“Before you go accusing the queen’s consort, show us your evidence first,” Lord Wesley counters.

I silently thank him in my heart.

That’s right, they have no proof that it’s Svenn.

I know it’s not him.

The vampire and I made a deal. My blood as his regular meal in exchange for his loyalty. He promised me won’t touch the innocent lives here. But it worries me that he hasn’t taken a single bite from me since we came to Windhaven…

Duvall’s lips quirks into a smile. “Ripped throats and dismembered bodies are quite consistent with a Nightwalker’s attack, I should say.”

I feel an invisible noose around my neck at that smirk.

“Nightwalker? There’s no point in calling him that. This one walks in broad daylight.” Lirian Moiree, priestess from the temple of Astraea, shakes her head, the long black curls of her hair swaying at the movement.

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