Page 4 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

A chill ran down my spine, one that had nothing to do with the ringing of bells. I was invisible, unheard. What were the odds she would catch a single glimpse of my eyes and remember my existence?

And I could not lie to her. The Eldest always knew when we were lying.

I shook my head, wishing desperately I could force my frozen fingers to move, to beg for a place in the Library, but it was another dead dream. I was nothing to her, when she could give me away and keep her favorite Sister, and years of the switch on my fingers had taught me to keep myself unheard when the Eldest was speaking.

Not even Antonetta’s body had produced a horror in me that the speculation in Sifka’s eyes did.

“No, of course there isn’t,” she murmured, curling an errant lock of scarlet hair around her fingers. “I’d almost forgotten you entirely. You’re a lai Darran, an old family, pure-blooded Veladari. Young. Reasonably pretty. No one can claim we insulted Lord Leech with you.” She grinned triumphantly at Aletha, letting out a husky laugh. “And at the cost of one scullery maid. No loss to us.”

Astonishment and disbelief were at war on Aletha’s face. “You’re going to give the Lord of the Rift… a scullery maid? A dumb scullery maid?”

“The time has come to be pragmatic, Sister,” Sifka said, as though she had been the reasonable one this entire time. She kept an iron-hard grip on my hair, so I couldn’t move morethan an inch without tearing it out—though I did manage a wince, mostly because I loathed being described as dumb. “And perhaps the bride being dumb is an asset. She can give no cause for offense. And if Bane were to take it into his head to question her about the Sisterhood, well… she could not speak of it. She has never been inducted.”

I knew from overheard conversations that the Sisterhood feared the vampire Lord questioning his future bride, that he would wish to learn the secrets of the great vampire slayers of old.

I thought it was a futile terror. The Blood Accords were in place; he had already won. What more could he possibly gain?

But futility did not mean I wanted to go to the bed of the Lord, who was no normal vampire.

“I suppose that is true…” Aletha was now looking me over with the same speculation as the Eldest. “She might be even prettier than Antonetta once she’s clean and out of those rags.”

“You can read and write quite well. I remember your letter to the Librarian last year.” Sifka frowned at me, considering.

I nodded quickly, my hands fluttering before I could stop them.Yes, in six languages, but please—could I not do more good in the Library?

“Hands down.” She smacked my fingers with her cane. “Aletha, get a bath ready and everyone we can spare to help. Find someone good with a needle and thread. We have a little more than two hours to make her a presentable bride… and I’m going to let Cirrien know how things are going to be.”

I met those cold blue eyes, reading my doom in them.

“You will not run,” the Eldest Sister said softly. “You will not shame the Sisterhood. The weight of the Accords, and the fate of Veladari humans, rests onyourshoulders now, Cirrien, and you will meet this with all the bravery of a full and proper Sister. Do you understand?”

I understood, all too well.

Whatever came next, whatever my new husband appeared to be… I had to do my best to ensure the Accords were upheld. To be a good wife to the creature called Lord of the Rift.

Because if I didn’t, it wasn’t the vampires I would need to fear. It would be every vampire ally, every human soldier who had fought at their side, every man or woman who had sacrificed themselves to defeat the Forians.

If I failed in this, if I broke the agreement…

All of Veladar would fall on me like a wolf at the feast.

Chapter 2

Bane

With every beat of the horses’ hooves, we drew closer to my future prison.

It was not a prison of steel and stone, but one of paper, signed in a time of need. Those thin parchment walls would contain me more securely than any dungeon.

When I had signed the Blood Accords, the demands of the human Lords had seemed inconsequential.

At the time, their people were dying. My people were being hunted.

Not even the Below was safe; the Forians had sniffed out ancient ruins, old entrances to the world beneath the skin of the land where we lived in exile. The alliance, with its offer for my people to be welcome in the world above once more, had been irresistible.

Marriage had seemed a thousand years away. That day, with the Lords gathered around the high table in the stronghold of Wolfspaw, the human men reeking of sweat and fear, I had put my name to the parchment while dripping blood. Ash had smeared the page; I had hardly noticed it, torn betweenscorching bloodthirst and the knowledge that my body would soon be warped beyond recognition, and the heady victory of having won myself a throne with a mere signature.

The human Lord of the Rift had grimaced as I signed, knowing that he would never belong at that high table again. His days as a ruling noble were over, and a monstrosity would take his place.

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