Page 7 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

The Blood Accords ensured that while our people would not be threatened with silver nor fire, neither would we threaten them. Drinking blood from an unwilling human was punishable by death now, each Lord expected to uphold the letter of the law within his domain.

But while silver bells and blades had been removed from gates and doorways, the silver stars of Argent remained as a permanent reminder of our past.

The carriage slowed as we approached the gates to the city, but it was clearly marked with the crest of Ravenscry, and the guard waved us through. As we passed, I saw him craning his head, trying to peer through the smoked-glass windows.

Argent spread before us, sprawling buildings stacked one on another along winding cobblestone streets. The reek of the city assaulted my nose even through the walls of the carriage, a gut-churning stew of smoke, rotten food, and piss.

Not for the first time, I found myself already missing the Rift, the cool, clean mist and pines.

And the sounds… my ears twitched and swiveled, trying to rotate to catch the thousands of voices, and I forced them to be still.

Wyn slipped the pen in her pocket, shuffled her papers in order, and laid her hands atop them. “What a noisome hellscape. Well, we’ll be doing the girl a favor by taking her out of this.”

The Silver Cathedral was in the center of the city. Throngs of humans surrounded us, the carriage driver shouting at them to back away as he pushed through.

I pulled my hood up over my head, ensuring I was sunk well into the shadows of the black cloth.

“Bravery, Bane,” Wyn said softly. “If you can meet the screaming hordes of Foria with a smile, you can manage the girl.”

“It’s not for me.” I tugged the hood lower. “It’s for them.”

Mine was not a face any of them wanted in their dreams tonight.

The Silver Cathedral was true to its name: every doorway hung with silver bells, garlands of rowan woven over windows. The spires were once white, now stained with soot.

The rest of Argent had moved on from their superstitions. Vampires walked among them; they were made welcome. Few houses hung bells in their windows or swept their thresholds with rowan brooms.

Not so with the Silver Sisterhood. Every aspect of their stronghold was a warning to our kind to stay out.

The carriage driver maneuvered us to the stables attached to the Cathedral, hiding the crowds behind stone walls.

“A last look, Wyn.” I smoothed down the lapels of my shirt, the fine tailoring a mockery of what lay beneath it. My reticence was no excuse for not trying to make myself as presentable as possible.

Wyn looked me over, her face slowly shifting into a grimace as she spoke. “Your clothes are fine. The girl will have her work cut out for her in keeping her composure, but perhaps… smile with your mouth closed, if you must do so at all. Actually, don’t smile at all. Maybe the hood should remain up as well.”

Another reason why I valued Wyn: she would not lie to me.

The driver opened the door for us, and I unfolded myself from the carriage, stepping onto neatly-swept stones. It took conscious effort to prevent my nostrils from sealing themselves shut against the full reek of the city, now unmitigated by carriage walls.

Several Sisters emerged from a plain door in the Cathedral, staring up at me speechlessly. A few mouths had dropped open, revealing the glint of silver teeth. They were all draped in plain white robes, wearing silver rings and rowan braided in their hair.

Wyn pushed in front of me, giving them a cool smile. “Lord Bane has arrived for his bride.”

The Sister in front shut her mouth. “Follow us, please. The Eldest Sister is prepared to perform the wedding.” She ushered the others inside, holding the door open for us.

Wyn moved beneath the garland of rowan with hardly more than a twitch. I had to hunch over to fit through the door, the toxic stench of the rowan burning in my nose.

And then we were through, led through a dark corridor to the main hall, where their services, and my wedding, would take place.

No one had decorated for the occasion. The cathedral was devoid of celebrants, except for the Eldest Sister standing before the altar with a cup of wine, accompanied by several armed younger Sisters.

That in itself was an insult, one I wouldn’t respond to. The Eldest Sister was an old woman, who had been anointed long enough that her gums had turned a darkened gray. Claw marks had left jagged scars on her face and hands.

And then I saw the girl.

Time slowed as I took her in, the fine bones and gleaming red hair, large eyes that searched the shadows beneath my hood. Shewas old Veladari blood, the shade of that gaze a green so deep it was like staring into a primordial forest.

I had not expected beauty. Not for something like me.

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