Page 108 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

Chapter 26

Bane

Iwatched her as she slept, marveling at my fortune, knowing that a century—if that—was not enough.

An eternity of a lifetime suddenly stretched before me in an endless expanse, empty and barren. It had once seemed a blessing, and now seemed more of a curse.

There would be lifetimes ahead of me… lifetimes of nothing. No Cirri. No feeling of coming home.

I exhaled, my breath stirring the clouds of her hair, and she yawned in her sleep. Curled up tighter against me, one hand clutching the blankets around her.

It was pointless to ponder the implications oflater, of a hollow half-life. I wouldn’t waste what time I had dwelling on that terrible future. I stroked her cheek, the primitive creature in my brain pleased that she smelled like me, scented with roses and musk and sex. No vampire would walk by her without knowing that she was mine.

My tongue flicked out to taste her, bringing the roses into my mouth. All mine.

As I pondered how to take the next step, to fully enter her and mark her without damage, there was a low sound from outside,the scrape of claws on stone. I curled around her tighter, my hackles rising, eyes on the window.

But I knew that silhouette on the keep’s wall.

She didn’t stir as I tucked the blankets more tightly around her; my Cirri slept like a stone, entirely dead to the world until the sun rose. I crept from the bed, pushing the glass panes of the window open, and just managed to slide through the gap.

I scaled the wall like an overgrown spider, moving downwards until I reached the ground, and made my way to the keep wall.

In the dark, early hours of the night, only the wall guards were awake, skittering shadows cast by torchlight. They gave Wroth a wide berth; one fiend was as good as a legion for protection, and no one had wanted to get too close when it became clear my brother was not himself.

Not any longer.

He was perched on the outer parapet like a gargoyle, his thick, snow-white mane and ivory horns a gleaming beacon in the darkness. The fiend didn’t move, staring out into the misty forest, pale eyes slitted.

In days past, Wroth had been the most brash of us, always jovial, always raring to do something. To see him like this, crouched and watchful, was like looking at a stranger wearing his form.

One of his triangular ears swiveled backwards as I deliberately let my claws tap on the wall.

“You needn’t announce yourself,” he said bluntly, in a low voice. “You reek of fucking. I smelled it before you left your tower.”

“Glad to hear your nose still works.”

Wroth’s muzzle wrinkled, showing his teeth in a humorless grin. Vampires had heightened senses; fiends were a step above. Nothing that made a scent was a mystery to us.

I stood next to him, staring down over the wall at the forest. Only the foxes in the brush and the owls moved out there, but that was a good sign. No animals emerged in the presence of wargs.

“Tell me, brother. What happened to you?”

Wroth shook his head, but it wasn’t a denial of my question; looking at him now I could almost see the vampire he had been and the fiend he was now, both a twisted leonine creature and a Nord jarl occupying the same space.

“The Blood Accords. Why did we believe they were a victory for us?” he mused, still gazing into the dark wood. “We celebrated. We’d bought thrones for our people. We were set to annihilate the Forians and live forever as kings, as gods among mortals. What fools we were.”

I kept silent, wanting to deny it, and all too aware of my own dark thoughts in the early hours as I watched Cirri sleep.

“The price did not seem so high to me, then,” Wroth said quietly. “This body, the things I needed to do for it… those don’t disturb me. I enjoy the power.” He extended a massive arm, the torchlight catching his velvet pelt and making it shimmer as he curled his powerful hands into a fist. “I enjoy being the Lord of the Rivers. If you had told me then that a single vain, hateful woman could ruin it all, I would have laughed and laughed. And yet, here we are.”

“She will be dead soon.” I looked down at my clawed hands, braced on the wall. “One day she will be a distant memory.”

Ancestors knew I dwelled on that thought far too much.

“Not soon enough.” Wroth lowered his arm, ears folding back flat against his head. “Like I said… I was a fool. You know the nobles of the Rivers rebelled when I first took Owlhorn.”

I nodded, already aware of this history. Of the four of us, Wroth alone had had to contend with the human nobility attempting to renege on the Blood Accords.

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