Page 74 of A Vow of Blood and Tears

I allowed myself to be pushed into the hallway, as she always did when a new sanguimantic craft had taken over her mind.

“There’s one more thing, but I can take it to the steward if you’re busy…”

She paused, halfway through closing the door. “Yes?”

“Cirri’s maid—what’s her name? Elsie?”

“Ellena,” Wyn corrected me.

“Ellena.” That was it. “I want her removed from Cirri’s chambers immediately. She can live in the keep with the other maids—and she can work in the laundry or kitchens from here on out. Whichever is worse.”

Wyn stared at me, tipping her head. “Ah, I see. I’ll see to it immediately. And, in my humble opinion, she has the makings of an excellent stablehand. Shoveling manure all day should sweeten her mood. The kitchens will seem like a pleasant sabbatical after that.”

She shut the door on me, already muttering under her breath about golems and bloodroses, and I went away with a smile on my face for the first time since I’d seen that damn bruise.

Chapter 19

Cirri

The hours passed in a blissful daze, all of my attention focused on documenting the trove before me with the level of care the Librarians would have expected. I knew they would be scandalized that my hands weren’t encased in cotton gloves, or that the books were exposed to the light filtering through the high, narrow windows, but the vampires had haphazardly piled these books without a care in the world.

I supposed they had survived not only the fall of the Red Epoch and the bonfires that had dominated those times, but also the centuries since, stored in moldy bookcases, dank cellars, or under altars. One day of touching them without gloves probably wasn’t going to do much further damage.

Even so, it was a time-consuming, painstaking process to gently examine each one, noting the damage—and even worse to have to put each one aside for the next without a thorough examination of the contents. I wanted nothing more than to dig in immediately and begin searching for any text that might unlock more of the High Tongue runes, but the Sisters’ HeadLibrarian had drilled certain protocols into those of us who studied in her domain.

They really needed a Scrollkeeper for this kind of work. Perhaps, if I became a Librarian, I could find myself aspiring to that lofty position.

I was almost finished with the fourth pile when something touched my shoulder, almost startling me into dropping the precious book I held.

Bane drew his hand back self-consciously, shifting in place. “It’s been hours since you’ve stretched your legs, my lady. Shall we eat before I send you to Wyn?”

I blinked at him, and then at the dark windows. When had night fallen? Someone had come around the library and lit all the fat beeswax tapers, and I hadn’t noticed their presence, nor the exchange of daylight for candlelight.

When I straightened up and stretched my back, there was a dull ache in my spine from hunching over the books.

By the Light, he had a good point. I carefully laid the book back where I’d found it, and flipped in my journal to the conversation page, sucking in a breath as my back protested movement.

Still, I smiled at him before I wrote. It was sweet of him to phrase it like that… for us to eat together, though he would really like to sit and keep me company.

I completely lost track of time, but yes, I’m starving. Why am I going to Wyn?

Bane pulled my chair out for me and offered a hand, which I took thoughtlessly. Somehow the thought of his claws didn’t frighten me quite so much anymore—his hand was as warm and soft as anyone else’s. The sheer size was less of a concern now, and more of a comfort, like being enfolded in an embrace.

“She’s working on new art, and she needs a little more of your blood. She might have questions for you as well. But we’ll worry about Wyn later, shall we?”

I expected him to lead me from the library and to the great empty expanse of the formal dining room, but instead he brought me to a table near the library’s doors, already laid with a cloth, several covered dishes, and well away from any of the books.

“I thought… you seemed to dislike the other room,” Bane said quietly. “I thought perhaps you’d like to stay in here. This is your library now, after all; I can have Cook deliver meals while you’re working.”

I squeezed his hand as tightly as I could, which he probably hardly felt at all, and sat down, laying my journal to the side and uncovering the first dish. The scent of food hit me and my stomach chose to shriek instead of just grumbling.

She’d made a venison stew, along with buttered bread and a dish of roasted vegetables. I dug in with my left hand, writing with the right, a system I was quite used to from my days in the Cathedral.

Thank you so much. It really is like you know me already, isn’t it? It’s much cozier in here than the dining room.

He read my words as I ate one-handed, trying to rapidly shovel food into my mouth as politely as possible, which I was likely failing at miserably. But I’d skipped the midday break, and now felt ravenous enough to eat an entire horse.

“I agree. Even when there’s more humans living here, no one really likes that room…” He grimaced a little, his fangs glittering in the golden candlelight. “It’s just for show. Have you gotten through the inventory yet, or is there more?”

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