Page 1 of Blood Tribute

ONE

A Profane Bargain

I

Nora knew where to golooking for the Hesperine—in the place where one of his kind had slaughtered her parents.

She hiked down through the woods with only the moons to light her way through the ghostly birch trees. She tried not to jump at shadows. Hesperines were always lurking in the darkness, yet impossible to detect. Until it was too late.

Seeking one out was a death wish. But what did she have to lose?

Nothing. Everything.

Her breath came faster, and the chill of oncoming autumn bit into her chest. The Hesperine would hear her heart pounding. He would smell her fear.

But the heretic wouldn’t be able to sense the magic in her father’s knightly dagger. The scabbard dug into her leg, securely hidden under her skirts. As long as she wielded Arceo, the Blade of Protection, the relic would keep the Hesperine from manipulating her thoughts with his profane magic.

But he could still drink her blood.

She swallowed hard. It was the only way. Her plan depended on him sinking his fangs into her.

To strengthen her resolve, she glanced behind her at Castra Gloria, visible on a craggy rise above the golden treetops. Her beloved, decrepit fortress was all she had left. She could not lose it, too. She could not let her family’s legacy end with her.

She was a woman, ineligible to become a holy knight. And incapable, it seemed, of fulfilling her most basic duty of securing one for a husband. There was only one way the Knightly Order of Andragathos would let her keep her inheritance. She, the lastand least worthy of her line, must somehow prove herself worthy to be a dame in her own right.

By the gods, she would kill the Hesperine with her own hands. And she would survive it.

Nora faced the darkness and pushed forward.

When she came to the edge of the clearing, the familiar scene was a shock. Disjointed memories from six months before flashed through her mind. Her father’s body falling. Her mother’s scream. Her own blood…

Nora stood paralyzed for a moment that she could not afford to waste. She had barely survived that night. She must be braver if she didn’t want to meet the same fate as her parents.

Her heart in her throat, she picked up her leaden feet and marched into the open. Brilliant fallen leaves crumbled beneath her footsteps. With a mundane knife, she cut her palm, biting back a hiss of pain.Nora held out her shaking, bleeding hand to make herself bait for the Hesperine.

Nothing happened. Moments passed as her blood dripped onto the ochre carpet of birch leaves. Treacherous relief slipped through her, chased by anger.

His kind had destroyed her family, but now he wouldn’t deign to appear. Perhaps he, like everyone else, had deemed her unworthy.

How dare a reviled heretic dismiss her? She might be a failure as a lady and a daughter, but she would teach her enemy to take her seriously. Let him underestimate her. She would use that to her advantage, and the Hesperine would eat his words when she carved out his heart.

“I know you’re here,” she called out. “The least you can do is hear me out.”

The wind swept gently through the spruces and mountain pines, as if mocking her.

She watched for any shadow that moved. “I know what you want, and I’ll give it to you—willingly. If you meet my terms.”

Hesperines were bestial, but cunning. With their preternatural strength and speed, they could easily take human blood by force. And yet, they preferred to use their powers of persuasion to ensnare willing victims. He would not be able to resist her offer, she was sure. She only hoped he wasn’t in the mood to play with his prey.

When he appeared out of thin air in front of her, she jumped out of her skin.

He looked nothing like the illuminations in the sacred tomes. He was no snarling, creeping creature with corpse-like skin or long fangs dripping with blood.

His beard was neatly trimmed, her foolish brain noticed, his complexion rich and dusky. He wore a short, elegant robe and trousers, not even stained with the gore of his last meal.

He looked…human.

Except he was far more beautiful than any mortal. Proud, dark brows, a chiseled jaw. The physique of a god. She couldn’t stop staring at his full lower lip and the elegant bow of his upper one, expecting him to bear his fangs at any moment.

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