Page 58 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

I’d spent the carriage ride considering that very question, and finally came to a slightly selfish conclusion: no, I wouldn’t have. If he’d managed to stab me, I would have happily let Bane have his way with him—the idea of laying down and dying for someone else’s silly misconception was almost offensive.

My disturbance was not from the man’s death, but by how quickly Bane had changed from softly laughing and joking with me, to nearly ripping a human’s arm off and draining him dry.

It drove home just how much effort he put into making himself seem harmless, a gentle giant, when in reality… he was a force of nature, a destructive goliath capable of tearing through people like so much paper.

And, moreover, it was ridiculous of me to be so shocked by the sudden, extreme violence.

For the Light’s sake, he was afiend. He was not a genteel prince from a fairy tale, clad in gleaming armor and waiting to carry me away on a white horse.

He was a monster, and he had knowingly become one, for one purpose: brutality.

So. I knew perfectly well what I had married; my reservations about his ability to turn on a whim and become a slavering beast didn’t matter in the slightest.

Perhaps he was savage, but he had done it for me, and… well, I was willing to accept that, if it meant I didn’t bleed to death on a chair full of shrubbery.

I’d crumpled the primrose in my fist with a silent apology to the man who had thrown his life away, and when the torchlight of Ravenscry appeared in the distance, I let the relief wash over me.

Home. I was home, and though I needed a night away from my husband—I had accepted him as he was, but the sight of the blood soaked into his shirt still had me shaken, an odd parallel to my nearly-unmarked wedding gown to my wine-muddled brain—when the sun rose tomorrow, I too would rise with the new day, with new intentions.

First of all, I would need to teach him my language. The slate had served me well, both in speaking to Bane and in my defense, but I didn’t want to rely on chalk for the rest of my life.

Second, I wanted to know more about the Rift-kin. I couldn’t remain locked in Ravenscry forever, hardly more than a prisoner; if I wanted to walk among the people I supposedly represented, I needed to understand them—and hopefully prevent future misunderstandings and executions.

Third and finally, I needed something todo. Being dressed up like an oversized doll and paraded around at parties was no way to live. I hadn’t sold years of my life to the Silver Sisters to do nothing with the knowledge I’d gained.

With these intentions in mind, I waited until the carriage pulled to a halt, unbarred the door after Visca gave the all-clear knock pattern, and opened it, only to find the commander and Wyn waiting for me outside.

Where was he?

I released the primrose, letting the petals drift as I raised my hands.Where is my husband?

“If you’re asking where Bane is… the answer is, I don’t know,” Wyn replied. “What he did tonight was a hard thing. I’m sure he wishes to be left alone to… to think on his actions.”

Visca cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Derog was one of his finest men in the war,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Sometimes we must do things we regret.”

My hands froze in place, a chill creeping down my spine.

Bane had had to murder a friend… and I was the cause. No wonder he didn’t want to see me now; would he ever be able to look me in the face and see anything but a painful reminder?

“It’s not your fault, Cirrien.” Wyn smoothed her sleeves, adjusted her lapel; nervous habits she seemed unaware of. “It was madness for him to attempt to harm you. At least the Rift-kin now understand that their days of living in ignorance are over, and that no disrespect will be tolerated to the ruling family.”

The sickness in my stomach was a stone as I lowered my hands and walked towards the keep’s inner doors. There was nothing else to say.

He’d had to kill a friend, someone he’d known for far longer than he’d known me.

I wouldn’t want to see me, either.

Wyn walked me to my chambers in the Tower of Spring, where Koryek waited patiently outside the door. I nodded to my guardian as I passed through; Wyn paused, looking as though she were about to speak, but she finally just sighed and turned away, heading to her own home with Visca.

At least one of us would have a pleasant night. I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, closing my eyes.

Then I reached up and pulled off the primrose crown, striding across the room to the fireplace and dropping it in. The petals crackled, shriveling as they blackened. I didn’t want any reminder of Fog Hollow sitting around where Bane might see it.

I’d started tugging the laces on the back of my velvet gown free when I looked at my desk. My journal was tucked away in there; I’d told Bane he would read it tonight.

Well, he wasn’t in Ravenscry, and I wasn’t tired. My veins were still humming with nervous anticipation, as though the knife had yet to fall.

I brought out the journal and flipped through, finding where I’d ended before: explaining my fear of being fed on and bled, that a thousand years of vampire rule couldn’t be overcome in a night.

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