Page 11 of Vows Forged in Blood

“What in the fucking hells am I going to do?”

Chapter 6

DAHLIA

I’m honestly not sure what to make of, well, any of this really, but especially last night with Alaric. He mostly ignored me for the entirety of our trip north, but my Keeper—a young turned vampire named Takara who is basically my right hand for the rest of my life—instructed me to offer blood on the fifth day, so that’s what I’d done. I don’t exactly enjoy being ordered around, but I know what’s expected of me as a Consort, and no matter how much it may irk me, I will do my duty.

So, I’d been a good little Consort. I’d gone to his room at the inn and offered him blood. It had been…interesting. Being around him again after four days had made my head spin, my entire body coming to life in a way I couldn’t explain. He’s just so…Alaric. So handsome, so stoic, so strong, so intimidating, so confusing. It’s too much all at once, like his presence, his very being, just engulfs me completely and makes it impossible to see or feel or think about anything else. For the hundredth time, I tell myself that it’s merely the binding, our shared blood telling my mind and body that it’s connected to his, but a small voice in the back of my mind keeps whispering that it’s more than that.That voice is obviously drunk or very, very misguided, so I tell her to shut her trap and she fades away into nothingness.

He doesn’t seem to know how the hells he wants to act towards me, being civil and almost gentlemanly the day we left Astoria’s Keep, then short and irritable last night at the inn before he drank my blood, and then different yet again after that. He seemed almost intoxicated by the blood, and for a second I would have sworn he wanted…more than blood. I know that often times feeding and sex go hand-and-hand for vampires, but not princes with their Consorts. Never that.Plus he can apparently kill me with little more than a look.

Thankfully, he hadn’t seemed to be offended or irritated when I’d snapped at him. Some princes may have had my head for that, but Alaric actually seemed a little impressed, if not amused. Enid had begged me to watch my tongue before we’d departed, reminding me that, though he may not act like it, heisa Montclare prince.

“Be…not so much yourself, maybe?” Enid had said, scrunching her nose in that way that always makes me laugh. Now, I nearly cry thinking of it. It’s only been a few days and already I miss home so badly it feels like a part of myself has been ripped away. A leg, or an arm perhaps, something I can survive without, but something that I’ll forever feel and miss with a longing ache.

Today, we’ll reach my new home. Not for the first time, I wonder how hellish the camp is truly going to be. Will I be sleeping on a pile of furs on the ground? Will I have my own tent, or will I be expected to share with Alaric? Are therebaths? One of my favorite things in the world is to soak in a hot bath until my skin wrinkles or Enid yells at me to get out, and the thought of having to bathe in a cold river somewhere makes me shudder.

“Are you cold, my Lady?” Takara asks, startling me.

“Oh no, I’m alright.” I’m far from used to being addressed as “my Lady.” Honestly, I don’t think I ever will be. I don’t feel like myself when people call me that. I don’t feel like the girl who’d grown up in a small three-room house with a thatched roof, the one who spent hours at the forge with my father, who constantly had soot or dirt smeared across my nose. The one who, when I was older, liked to run wild with the boys in the village, swimming naked in the lake, and sneaking kisses—or more—in the stables or the caves.That’s who I truly am. But Lady Dahlia? I don’t know that girl.

I sigh and stare out the window of the carriage, toying with the ring da had given me before we’d left. It was a round stone of polished obsidian, vines of gold wrapping around the edges and holding the stone in place.

“Just in case,” he’d whispered in my ear, hugging me after I’d slid the ring on my index finger, and I’d heard both the grin and the seriousness in his voice. When I looked closer at the ring, recognizing the design, I opened my mouth in confusion, but he’d cut me off. “Doona ask,” he’d said with that mischievous glint in his green eyes, so like my own, “just keep it on ye at all times, my firebrand.”

“We’re nearly there,” Takara says, pulling me from my memories. I straighten in my seat, squinting out the window but seeing nothing ahead.

“Have you been to the camp before?” I ask.

“No, my Lady, but I can hear the men training.”

I, of course, can’t hear anything of the sort. I can’t deny I marvel at the idea of being able to hear or see things miles away, to be able to run like the wind, to be strong enough to fell a tree with little thought or trouble. I almost ask Takara what it’s like, if she’s happy with her transformation or if she misses anything about being human, but think better of it. We hardly know each other and that seems like a very personal question.

Though, to be fair, she has asked me insanely personal questions from the moment she was introduced to me just after the Magister whisked me away from the Choosing ceremony—about my diet, the schedule of my monthly cycles, sexual preferences and if I had a partner I wished to accompany me to the camp, or perhaps partners—plural—that I wished to join in my harem. Aharem, for gods’ sake. Apparently it’s quite common for Consorts to keep them, getting their jollys off with as many folks as they wish while they luxuriate in their castles. Though I’m the farthest thing from chaste or a prude, the idea of keeping a whole host of men around to bed whenever I feel the need seems…scandalous, even for me.I suppose itcouldbe fun, on rare occasions after a lot of ale…

By the time we finally reach the camp, I’m practically vibrating with tension, my stomach twisted into tight knots. This is it. I’m about to get the first glimpse into what will be my life from now on. I’ve been coming to terms with things over the past few days, but now that it’s truly here, I can’t seem to shake the nerves. I try to control my breathing, but it begins to come in quick, shallow bursts, my heart racing inside my chest.

“Easy, my Lady,” Takara says in a surprisingly gentle voice. She hasn’t been unkind before now, exactly, just…distant. Respectful, but a little cold. I assume that’s just how most Keepers and Consorts are together. After all, most Consorts have been raised since birth to see staff of any kind, vampire or otherwise, as beneath them.

“I’m…how can you tell?”

“I can hear your heart racing. You have nothing to fear from these vampires. They would just as soon slit their own throats with a silver-tipped dagger than harm you.” I want to tell her that it isn’t about being fearful for my life, it’s the ache of missing my home and my family, the thought of living a life that will never truly fulfill me…but I don’t. I can’t find my voice and I’mnot sure I can really explain it to the vampire anyway, so I simply nod.

The curiosity outweighs the nerves and I open the window of the carriage, sticking my head out to take it all in. I think I hear Takara laugh lightly behind me. We roll through a towering stone gate, guards standing like statues on either side. They incline their heads as the caravan makes its way through, slamming their closed fists over their hearts when Alaric rides past. A clear sign of respect. I wonder if it’s a true respect, born out of admiration and love and loyalty—or respect brought by fear. I think about how deadly Alaric can be, how menacing I imagine he must look on the battlefield, Night’s Fury in his hands, the silver stars shining brightly against the dark blade. If his men don’t fear him, at least a little, they’re fools.

Takara clears her throat lightly and I reluctantly pull myself back inside the carriage, though I continue to watch raptly as we move through the camp, my mouth practically hanging open in shock. It’s nothing like I expected. Groups of soldiers train in large fields on either side of the main path—which is an actualroadmade of cobblestone—and the sounds of metal clanging against metal ring out all around. Grunts of pain or exertion, cheers and jeers, barked commands, hearty laughs. The camp isloud, but I don’t mind. The clash of metal reminds me a bit of da’s hammer, the laughter and chatter reminding me of the gatherings in the square outside the tavern before we’d moved to the noble district. It’s comforting but makes my heart ache, all at once.

I rub the heel of my hand against my chest, trying to ease the ache, and Takara says quietly, “It will get easier.” I turn to her, blinking away tears.

“What?”

“Missing your family. It will become easier over time.” There’s a flash of profound sadness in her deep brown eyes, so dark they look almost black, and I can’t help but ask.

“How do you know?” She looks to be debating if she should answer, and I sigh. “Do Keepers not usually speak with the Consorts? Is that it?”

The vampire purses her lips. “Not in a conversational way, no…” She studies me for a long moment, and then sighs, seemingly making some sort of decision. “But I suppose our circumstances are a bit different than most Consorts and their Keepers, aren’t they?” I see the rigidity thaw out of her, and I have a sliver of hope that maybe I’ll have a friend here after all. No one can replace Enid, of course, but having someone to talk to, to laugh or cry with? Well, it will be a blessing in the midst of this nightmare.

“You are my first assignment as a Keeper,” Takara says, the words almost sounding like a confession.

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