Woudix alone remains unfazed, his pale features still as a death mask.
I slam the bronze antler down on the altar. “You mock me? After I’ve seen you drink the blood of humans? Seen the Serpent Knife in the artifact room?” I snatch up a brace of skinned, field-dressed rabbits on the altar beneath Immortal Solene’s statue. “Do not tell me you don’t need sacrifice.”
Artain and Samaur keep snickering until Woudix nudges Hawk. The dog drops its glamour. In a second, it’s a half-rotted cadaver with teeth exposed from its torn jaw, growling low at the other two Blade Boys.
Their laughter vanishes.
Vale raises a hand toward the castle. “You’ve seen many of our acolytes. We take their blood, yes. Their breath. Their sex. Their prayers. They are all more than willing. They suffer no harm for this vow of sacrifice—in return, we shower them with mortal delights. Food. Wine. Pleasure. Whatever they desire. Our head acolytes are even rewarded with a special connection. A shared mind. Shared thoughts.”
Jaw clenched, my mind lurches to find an argument. It’s true that I haven’t seen any dead bodies drained of blood. Paz and the twins Samaur was dancing with in the hemlock grove certainly seemed pleased to serve.
I shift my stance. “Is that why you’ve brought me here, then? To be an—an acolyte?”
I brace myself for more laughter. I almost crave it, because that would mean it was an absurd idea—but only distant birdsong answers me.
Artain gives a salacious grin. “Well, if you want to take me up on that one night together…”
I hurl the bronze antler at his head, but he manages to duck.
“Sabine,” Vale says gently. “There is no trick. No deception. I brought you here because my daughter should be at my side. War is coming. There are five of us. Soon to be ten. We are strong, yes, but against how many millions of humans across the seven kingdoms who will resist us? We will need humans on our side. Like Beneveto. Captain Tatarin. And you.”
As I wrestle with this, I tip my chin up to gaze at the marble statue eclipsing me. Immortal Solene is carved withvines winding up her legs, flowers growing from her hair. She looks like the very picture of peace. One with nature. Serenity itself. Hardly a monster.
“That’s really all?”
“For fuck’s sake, stop being so suspicious.” Artain loops his arm around my shoulder with that dazzling grin. “We’re missing out on valuable partying time.”
I scowl at him, but it lacks its usual bite. Shrugging out from under his arm, I twist the twine ring around my finger, my stomach turning in knots, too. “If I am to stay here, then I need to send a message to Basten Bowborn.”
My father tents his fingers. “A letter could be arranged, though it may take some time. My spies are deeply undercover in Old Coros. And all our messenger crows are currently completing other voyages.” He rests a hand on my shoulder, his eyes soft. “Are you sure this man hasn’t forgotten you entirely?”
I flinch, instinctively shooting a look toward Iyre. “It doesn’t matter if he does;Ihaven’t forgotten him. I have to warn him of danger.”
“From what you’ve told me, this human male is more than capable of guarding his own back.” Vale presses my hand between his, stilling my anxious twirling of the ring. “He hasn’t reached out to you. We’ve received no crows. No letters. Perhaps he has moved on with his life. Perhaps you should, too.”
I bristle, tugging my hand free. Heat bleeds into my cheeks as I tip my chin high. “I need to write that letter.”
He nods, but his eyes tell me my hope is lost.
A familiar tension pulls in my side, but I can’t tell if it’s real or old instincts kicking in. I try to poke holes in my father’s story, but nothing sticks. Yes, Iyre’s a nightmare. Iwouldn’t trust Artain or Samaur after dark with a bottle in their hands, either. Woudix? Still a mystery I can’t unravel.
But this place, these people—they’re not exactly the monsters I thought. There’s a pull here, a potential, like a half-remembered dream that calls me back each time I wake.
What if this is where I belong?
“If you’re ready, Sabine,” Vale says. “I’ll reveal the truth—all of it. Who we are, the power we wield, what’s been hidden from you.”
Am I? Will I ever be ready?
I briefly touch the twine ring on my finger before hesitantly taking his hand. “Show me.”
As the words leave my lips, a surge of something dangerous and thrilling courses through me. Family. Power. The possibility that this could be my world. A door swings open in my mind, and for the first time, I step forward into the unknown with something other than fear.
Chapter 21
Basten
We don’t slow from a gallop until we’re ten miles north of Old Coros. Tòrr runs with such effortlessness that not a drop of sweat mars his glistening black coat. ButI’mhuffing and puffing, and foamy sweat clings to the contours of Myst’s shoulders, too. I can hear her breath straining with each stride.