Page 135 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

I counted the guards on the wall, on the gate. Twenty. Enough to hold the keep against invasion until reinforcements arrived. “Be ready in five.”

Miro strode off, and I was left alone.

Alone with a mountain of regrets and self-recrimination. How could I not have seen it? And now all of Tristone would pay for my short-sightedness.

I should have forced the mines open earlier. Damn their superstitions, their outdated beliefs—the walls had been more important. It was easier to whip men into working against their will than to pick up their ravaged corpses.

I should have told Wyn to put off Bloodrain. Better to have walked the Rift myself on my own feet, to have a feel for what Hakkon might be thinking, than to stay and play host to a gaggle of entitled nobles.

Could have, should have… and no amount of regret would change what had to happen now.

Burial duty. Ancestors knew I was no stranger to the pits of the war, when bodies had been stacked six-high and set alight.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the cold air, and let go of the regret. I’d had a hand in this, and now I would clean up after myself.

The soft clop of hooves on stone approached: the grooms, holding the reins of two horses. Cirri emerged from the keep, wearing a thicker cloak, Rose and Thorn on her heels with heavy bags in their arms.

The golems loaded the chestnut mare with the bags, and Rose cupped her hands, giving Cirri a boost into the saddle.

Thank you, she said.But you can’t come outside the keep. Wait in the tower, please. Or the library.

The golems resisted her order for as long as they could, their faces turned longingly towards their mistress, but as Miro emerged, wearing a sword and several daggers, they slunk away with ill-grace.

Miro glanced sidelong at Cirri. “Do you think you can handle this?”

She nodded shortly.Take us there, Bane. We’re right behind you.

I looked up at her as she nudged her horse forward, and rested my hand on her leg for an all-too-brief moment. “We’re taking the road north. Keep heading that way, even if you lose sight of me. By horse, it will take several hours. Miro, you know the way.”

She touched my hand, and waved me on.

“Yes, my Lord.” Miro nudged his horse towards the outer wall.

We went through the gate, and the soldiers silently shut it behind us. I waited, listening as they locked and barred it—several times, the doors crossed with cold iron, with silver, with steel.

Only then, on packed earth and pine needles, did I drop to all fours, letting my body shift just a little—enough to carry me swiftly, as swift as the fastest warg.

“There’s going to be blood,” Miro hissed, and I couldn’t see Cirri’s reply, my eyes clenched shut tight as the pain of the adjustment spread through my arms and legs.

My wife could handle herself. I took another breath, tasting the air, and galloped towards the northern road. No sign of wargs yet… but there would be.

I circled back at times, ensuring Cirri and Miro were behind me and safe. He did as I ordered, guiding her to the north, and Cirri rode in apprehensive silence, not even trying to communicate with him.

It wasn’t until the misty ceiling of the sky was bright white that I caught the first telling whiff on the wind, blood and rot and warg piss.

The northern road was paved with stone, unlike much of the Rift’s hard-packed dirt. And up ahead, there was Tristone’s wall, a section visible through the trees.

Once, it had been a high wall. Time had brought it crumbling down; in the first years of the war, newly emerged from Below and determined to prove our worth, we had built it back up.

But war took its toll on everything. Constant warg attacks, combined with the Forian Army’s cannonfire, had brought it low again.

And if I’d simplyforcedthe Rift-kin to work the mines earlier, we might have rebuilt it enough to withstand a siege. As it was… chunks of the wall had been long exposed, and had been scaled easily. Unlike Thornvale, they hadn’t built a barricade of sharpened stakes tipped with wolfsbane.

They had been an easy meal, easy pickings.

The scent of slaughter was a thick reek, coating my throat and choking me with every breath as we approached. Several vampire knights, standing sentry duty, watched warily as we approached. A horn blew, cutting through the unnatural silence.

Visca pushed one sentry aside, emerging from a broken section of the wall. Her brown skin was smeared with blood, black braid wild, face grim.

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