Page 165 of Blood Feast

The letting site filled, and at last it overflowed back into her. The Lustra’s power, natural and whole, slammed through her heart. With a cry of victory, she pulled her dagger out of the ground and got to her feet.

On the other side of her roses, there was a nova of Hesperine power. Her prince.

“We have to go before he finds a way in,” Lyros called out.

A powerful instinct held Cassia where she stood. This place was her ritual ground now.

“We’re not leaving empty-handed.” She closed her eyes.

She focused on what Miranda’s aura felt like and conveyed that impression to the Lustra. It stirred, snapping. It knew Miranda, the predator who had hurt them. Smells, sounds, and finally images stirred within Cassia.

Miranda sat helpless, bound to the wall of the sickroom by thorns. Her undead crow familiar ran its beak through herhair, its hollow, silent chest somehow filled with concern for her.

The door opened. In walked the farmer Miranda had healed, his wife at his side. The two villagers stood over their beloved lady. The crow fled, cowering in the farthest corner of the room.

“You failed me,” the farmer said in the voice of Kallikrates.

Miranda’s fear told the Lustra she was prey now. But she looked the Collector in the eye. “Yes, Master. I failed you.”

“You know I will not tolerate excuses. You should have been prepared for any unexpected resistance from Cassia and Deukalion.”

“I’ve always known I am imperfect. That’s why I gave myself to you, Master. I am yours to shape into your perfect playing piece.”

The farmer took Miranda’s face in a bruising grip. “I will only tolerate so many mistakes before I deem a piece unviable and destroy it.”

She didn’t flinch. “No matter how many times you destroy me, Master, I will survive for you.”

The farmer released her. His wife ran her hand over Miranda’s head with the tenderness of a mother. Kallikrates’s voice came from her mouth, too. “Miranda. My vicious girl. You understand the rules of the game so well.”

“You need the survivors, Master. Nothing else matters. I accept your punishment, in the name of the game.”

The farmwife kept stroking Miranda’s hair. “You know what this means for your people. Mederi will be without my protection until your punishment is complete.”

The slightest tremble went through Miranda. “Yes, Master. I know I must earn back your favor for them.”

“And for yourself.” The farmer took a step closer, looming over Miranda. “I will not come to you until you correct your mistake.”

Her wild panic stoked the Lustra’s hunger. The vines tightened on her arms.

The farmwife stepped back, her expression sad, and stood behind her husband. His face was stern. Kallikrates spoke through both the villagers in unison.

“This is your punishment. You must defeat Cassia and Deukalion on your own. Collect the bounty for them before my other Overseers, and you will receive my forgiveness.”

“I will not disappoint you this time, Master,” Miranda promised him.

Fire danced along the thorn vines, turning them to ash. Miranda fell to the floor in a heap, hissing, her arms riddled with burns.

The farmers were gone. The room seemed like a tomb.

Miranda’s hands went to her chest, clutching at her bloodstained breastplate. She began to pant. Then she grasped her head in both hands and let out a pitiful wail.

“Master. I can’t hear you. Master!”

She cried out for him until she was hoarse, but no voice filled the room but her own. Her crow returned to her side, hopping fretfully to and fro by her crumpled form.

Finally the sound of blades clashing made her look through the broken wall. Out in the garden, Hesperines errant and Gift Collectors were locked in battle.

“Survive,” she whispered.

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