Page 24 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

And so long as I could stand between the Rift-kin and Wargyr’s ravenous worshippers, between Cirrien and a terrible death, I would never be sorry for the monstrosity I had chosen.

I caught up to the carriage, my nostrils open for warg-sign, but Hakkon had sent only the one. I counted myself fortunate; Andrus’s first selection had been hunted by a pack.

But Hakkon knew we no longer left the fate of the brides up to chance. This one had been a long shot, a message made of fangs: he knew I had upheld my end of the contract, and he was keeping an eye on me.

Onher.

Unseen, prowling in their wake, I did not leave Cirrien again until the road climbed upwards, leading us out of the ocean of fog and through a thick, dark forest.

The walls of Ravenscry loomed ahead, the castle a stronghold undefeated by the wargs. The vampire legions pacing the walls came to a halt, all eyes on Eryan, and when they saw he still wore his hat, the gates were lifted to allow him through.

Cirrien… she would be able to see me soon. There was no fog here to hide my form, the more bestial aspects I had dragged to the surface for the sake of the hunt.

I held back, my gallop slowing to a walk, then to a crawl. The gate clattered down, cutting me off from the carriage.

Instead, I climbed the walls, mortar crumbling around my claws. I perched on the wall, peering down into the castle bailey as Eryan opened the carriage doors with a flourish.

Wyn emerged first, and then Cirrien. Her fiery hair was a beacon, a flame in the pearly mist of the Rift.

I watched Cirrien’s hands engage in a gentle, hesitant dance as she looked up at the castle, awe written all over her face. The commander of my legions dropped from the wall to meet her, a welcoming smile displaying her fangs.

This poor girl… I had brought her here, cut her off from any semblance of a normal life.

Had I consigned her to a lifetime of silence and misery? Would she hide in her tower, a flame slowly dwindling in the dark?

I crouched in the shadows, looking down at myself. Between the thickening cartilage of my transformation and the warg’s last weakened blows, my shirt was shredded. My fangs had grown, lengthening so that clear speech would be even more difficult.

We would marry tonight, as the moon rose in the sky. Only then would the Accords be considered upheld by my people, when the vows between us were completed.

It would take days to undo what I had done to myself tonight.

Cirrien had met me at my best, the most attractive face I could hope to present. She would not be marrying me at my worst, but… it could hardly reassure her when I arrived at the altar far more hideous than when she had met me.

I growled, picking a strip of frayed linen from my shirt and flinging it aside.

“What is this?” an amused voice asked. “Don’t tell me you’re sulking, my lad.”

I looked up at Visca, whose hands were planted on her hips, her lips curled in a smile.

“Commander,” I grated out through a mouthful of teeth. “I…”

Words failed me. Instead I gestured at my face, my thickened, horn-ridged body.

How could I subject Cirrien to this?

Visca dropped into a squat beside me, her elbows braced on her knees. She had looked at me this same way when she first found me dying all those years ago, head cocked as she examined my face.

“So itisa sulk. I thought I beat that out of you years ago.”

I just stared at her. “You’ve met her.”

“As of five minutes ago, and in my professional opinion, she has a good head on her shoulders. I was expecting someone alittle more… eh.” She held a hand out flat, tipping it back and forth as she thought. “Hysterical? I was at Voryan’s wedding, and that girl shrieked the whole way through. Ancestors, theheadacheshe gave me. Two hundred years, I thought, I’ve lived two hundred years and this is how I die: from a spineless little sow melting my brain out of my damn ears.”

“Cirrien is good.” Too good for something like me. “It would be easier to doom her if I hated her, but she is… serene.”

“Precisely.” Visca’s blue eyes glowed as they flicked towards the Tower of Spring, the quarters devoted to the Lady of the Rift. “And pretty, too. Call me moonstruck, but getting married to a pretty, serene girl… well, it could be a lot worse.”

“She is the one who will feel hardship.”

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