Page 145 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

Blaming myself for a mistake wouldn’t make any progress. I would write a proper letter to Sister Loranin, ask for her eyes and the runes, and start over from the beginning.

As the Eldest Sister had been fond of telling us, humility was the greatest of teachers.

Or perhaps she meant humiliation. Either one worked, in this case.

Besides… as I looked down and saw an uprooted tooth ground into the dirty snow, I figured being alive to experience humiliation at all was a lovely gift.

“Carting it around like a pet, now?” Miro was leaning against the broken wall, arms crossed, cheeks reddened with the cold.

I looked down at the bright-eyed laika and shrugged. What else would I do with a pup?

“You should release it into the forest. Give it a chance to make its own way.”

I hauled my journal out, resting it one arm to write as I drifted closer to Miro.

Why would I give it a death sentence? He’s still got milk teeth.

“He’s Forian.” Miro snorted. “He’ll survive.”

I’d rather give him a chance in the keep.

“Why?” Miro rubbed his cheek, smearing the soot there. “So the vampires can keep another Forian minion around and walk all over it when it pleases them?”

I gazed up at him, tipping my head.Do you really believe that’s why you’re treated like a nuisance?

“Of course.”

Maybe you should spend some time in self-reflection.

“Or…” He leaned in. “You could release the pup. Give it a chance to go back to its own people. Being a Forian in Veladar… I don’t wish that on anyone. Always treated like an outsider.Always considered lower. He won’t even be considered a proper hunting dog, not by the Master of Hounds there.”

It could be worse. I shrugged again, unable to summon even irritation. My emotions seemed trapped behind a wall, separated from the rest of me.He could’ve been a meal.

Miro’s mouth twisted. “Just so long as you know what you’re doing. Consigning him to a lifetime of being dragged along on a leash. That’s all that’s done to Forians here.”

Aren’t we all? Everyone has a leash. Everyone owes something. I paused to scratch the laika’s soft back.What do you know about wargs?

Miro was obsessed with his Forian heritage, hellbent on complaining how it brought him down. If he was so in love with it, perhaps he knew something more about the ritual.

It was Miro’s turn to shrug, frowning. “Creatures of great strength. Fast, powerful, furious.”

What about their creation? Have you ever heard tales of that?

Those pale jade eyes focused on my face, flicking from my eyes down to my mouth, and back again. “That’s a rather gory interest for a lady to take.”

Indulge me.

“Very well…” He leaned back against the wall, brows furrowed. “I’ve heard you need to be committed. Utterly, absolutely. Saying you want it isn’t enough. You need tobelieve, down to the marrow.”

I watched his eyes move to the church wall as he spoke, his fingers tapping.

“You need to eat a feast of flesh,” he said quietly. “And it must be terrible. It must surpass the bounds of pain and horror. I’ve heard… some of them ate their own children. The ultimate betrayal, the gut-wrenching knowledge that the thing that trusts you most in the world is ruined by your own hand.”

My stomach turned over, a slow flip-flop, and bitter saliva flooded my mouth. I swallowed hard.

I had asked, after all, and now I was indulged.

“And the whole time that’s happening, you must keep the faith. The belief that you are Wargyr’s claws, his fangs, his hands on this earth.”

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