Page 49 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

She huffed her silent laugh again.Thank you. I’ll pretend that’s true. But even I couldn’t combat the rising tide of your people’s popularity. I think the Sisterhood will die out soon. Maybe not in this century, but the next.

I thought of something that she might find entertaining. Anything to drive that bitter edge off her expression. “Do you want to know a secret?”

She nodded, my ruse working; the shine of curiosity had come back into her gaze.

“The book… the book I found for you,” I said, clearing my throat. “Have you, ah, looked at it yet?”

To my amusement, she blushed.I’ve heard much of it, but I haven’t read it. I’ve had no time.

“Well… it’s not the only one of its kind out there. Gisele fel Marchand, she’s written many of them.”

I know, Cirri wrote, blushing even more furiously.The maids pooled their money to buy them. They were very popular.

Ancestors, it was hard to keep my thoughts from scattering at the sight of the pink glow across her cheeks. Even her scent intensified, the musk of skin and the tinge of iron beneath as her blood pounded through her veins.

I swallowed hard, pushing the thirst back.

“Fel Marchand is a vampire. Her only job is to produce those books and have them distributed in human cities… to draw humans in.”

Cirri looked up at me, eyes wide, all thought of hiding her blush forgotten.

“They’re designed to make us seem more… appealing. Heroic. Seductive. One of the reasons the Sisterhood is gnashing its teeth over our popularity is because fel Marchand has embarked on a campaign for the last ten years to present us in the best possible light, in the most subtle possible way—via books.”

She gazed at me wonderingly for several moments.

That’s either the most deceptive or the most brilliant thing I’ve ever heard, she wrote. She thought it over, and added,maybe a little of both.

“Yes, both. We all agreed that if this was to work… well, our history was not flattering, of course. Several of the most charismatic and imaginative among us were chosen to create a new image, one in which humans and vampires live side by side.” I mused over fel Marchand’s elaborate ploy to worm her way into the psyche of the readers across Veladar. “Strange, how a simple tale of a handsome vampire can make us seem so much less frightening.”

Is it just books?Cirri asked.

“No, there’s artists, playwrights, architects… all across the spectrum, my people are doing their best to present everything to do with our kind in a desirable light.”

She leaned back, an odd look on her face—half admiring, half concerned.A beautiful trap. Like spiders luring flies into a shining web.

“But is it truly? We’ve passed new laws. We’ve executed those most vehemently against them—those vampires who promised to defy them and take a human life. Several vampires in my legion have married human Rift-kin, and by all accounts, they’re quite happy.” I gestured to myself. “We’ve given much, hoping for a second chance to prove ourselves.”

Cirri fumbled her chalk, dropping it to the carriage floor. It rolled to my feet and I reached down to pick it up, straightening to find Cirri gazing at me, stricken.

I held out the chalk, and she took it. Her fingers brushed mine, and she didn’t shy away.

Bane, she wrote,I’m sorry. That was a horrible thing to say. I didn’t think.

I looked at my name, written in her lovely hand. The curved loop of the Veladari word, a single symbol, for ‘bane’—a curse, a scourge.

How appropriate. Iwasher curse now.

Despite the brief flare of irritation I’d felt, I couldn’t be angry with her. “No, Cirri. You grew up with vampire slayers. To you, our subtle campaigns would seem like a trap.” I smiled at her, unable to hold onto annoyance. “Say what you think, always. I’d rather hear censure from you, if that’s your true thought, than to hear a polite lie.”

She erased the slate and looked out the window, giving no sign she wanted to write anything more.

“Please don’t shut me out,” I asked, perilously close to begging. “I’m not angry.”

Cirri glanced at me.I’m not, she wrote,I’m just embarrassed. I really don’t hate your kind, despite my upbringing. I know what you gave makes you a hero to your people. But I can’t claim to understand it yet.

“Shall we be embarrassed together, then? What would you have me do?”

She squinted her eyes, incredulous, but there was a ghost of a smile at the corners of her mouth.I’m not sure you could be embarrassed. You’re very self-possessed.

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