Page 25 of Blood Tribute

There was only one possible explanation for why she had been able to save him. She was the mate whose blood could free him from hunger for any other. The partner destined to share his long eternity.

Nora was his Grace.

Dav had already drunk more than enough from her to awaken their bond—and the Craving, the addiction every Graced Hesperine suffered. If she wouldn’t accept Sanctuary, he would face a short future of withdrawal and starvation.

He had found her at last, after all these centuries alone. His brother had died bringing them together.

Dav would not let anyone take her from him.

As she approached the door of the shrine where Sir Virtus awaited her, her terror washed over the Blood Union. But she put one foot in front of the other, walking with determination toward her greatest fear.

Hidden in veil spells, Dav looked Sir Virtus in the eye. Here was the fanatic who had tormented her. His were the hands that had killed Rahim.

Dav’s hand tightened on Arceo’s hilt. He could no longer call himself a healer after what he was about to do. He didn’t know what that made him. He only knew Sir Virtus was the greater monster.

“Honora,” came the man’s warning tone, “Arceo has not been returned, and now three more relics are missing.”

“I know, Uncle. I noticed when I was saying my afternoon prayers. I have spent all evening questioning the servants.” She held out the scabbard. “I found this.”

Sir Virtus snatched the empty dagger sheath from her. “Where was it?”

“Someone left it on my father’s tomb.”

Dav enjoyed watching the color drain from Sir Virtus’s face.

“Who?” the knight demanded.

“I do not know, Uncle. But it was very painful for me to visit the crypt today. Will you help me find comfort in prayer?”

“Of course, child. Of course.”

Sir Virtus took Nora’s arm, and her emotions flinched. Dav bared his fangs. He stalked behind them as they walked down the central aisle of the shrine.

The auras of the relics stung his arcane senses. The whole chamber was aglow with bright halos of anti-Hesperine magic. Nora had rid the room of the three artifacts that could reveal his presence, but he was still surrounded by things that could destroy him if he made one wrong move.

Dav hated watching Nora kneel with that man before the emblem of her judgmental god. This heretic would enjoy desecrating Andragathos’s shrine.

Nora’s voice disrupted the quiet of the room. “On my last night as Lady of Gloria, I have meditated on my duty to my parents. Will you pray for their souls with me, Uncle Virtus?”

A drop of sweat trickled down his brow. “Certainly, daughter.”

Sir Virtus bowed his head, closing his eyes, and began to drone a prayer. Nora slid her hand into the folds of her skirts.

This was their chance. Dav moved swiftly to the box Nora had described to him. The lock was a mundane one that whispered open at a touch of his magic. He eased the lid back.

Arceo heated in his hand, and a cold fire answered from the opal in Sancti’s white-gold hilt. Pain flared behind Dav’s eyes, and his stomach turned over. He wouldn’t be able to hold both daggers long.

Gritting his teeth, he closed his hand around Sancti’s hilt. The current of magic between the daggers flared along his arms, white hot. He slipped over to Nora, kneeling to press the Blade of Purification into her grasp.

He rested his scorched hand on her shoulder and tapped once. Twice. Three times.

They moved in unison. He heard the blades glide through the air, too quiet for mortal ears. They swung together at the praying man’s heart.

Dav’s dagger never landed. Glass shattered. Fragrant smoke struck Dav in the face, obscuring his vision and clawing into his lungs.

“Step away!” Nora cried.

Dav transported himself to the other side of the room, his eyes watering and coughs wracking him. Through clouds of smoke, he made out the silhouette of the knight, swinging a sword where his neck had just been.

---