“Ohgods,” I whisper as my fangs shoot even longer, nicking my bottom lip. I taste blood and my body shudders, the sudden need forherblood and her body nearly shattering my willpower completely. I barely keep control, but I don’t know if I can maintain it for long. Eventually, I’ll have to learn to deal with this, but tonight…it’s too much. I stab my feet into my boots and storm from the cabin, running out into the night as fast as my legs will carry me. I run and run and run until I’m high up in the mountains, crouched on a peak near the top of one of the Sisters.
I’m nearly hyperventilating, my breaths sawing in and out of my chest like razor blades. I close my eyes and force my body toobey my mind. Eventually, my breathing and frantic heart both slow.
“Fucking hells,” I say on a shaky exhale as I collapse onto the freezing rock beneath me, sprawling and staring up into the night’s sky. I’ve never felt this way before, this loss of control, this all-encompassing need and desire that nearly made me forget all sense and reason and storm right into her room and do…godsthe things I wanted to do. I close my eyes and lay there for hours more, forcing myself to remember her scent, force myself to learn to think around it, to accept it and master my body. I make sure I’m entirely under control before I move a single inch back towards the camp.
Having a Consort is an annoyance.
Having a mate is torture.
My solutionto the situation with Dahlia is to avoid her entirely. I don’t know if it’s the best solution, but it’s the only one I’ve got that is guaranteed to keep her safe. Though I worked for days on end to master myself, forcing her to consume my thoughts, forcing her scent into my memory so that I can be completely sure I’ll be able to control myself, I still stay away. The fear of what would happen to her if my control slips outweighs the pain of not seeing her. Vampires are meant to be near their mates, their mate’s presence soothing in the way no other can be. But if it keeps her safe, and more importantly, alive, I’ll gladly take the pain.
So, I stay away. I send a squire to collect her blood as I did when I was away from the camp, though I’m only on the other side of the cabin. I make sure that I won’t run into her when coming or going. Part of me feels guilty, knowing sheprobably thinks she did something wrong or feels as if this is a punishment, but I try to remind myself that if we were in a normal situation, this is how it would be. I wouldn’t see her. We wouldn’t be near each other. We’d be separated by an entire castle instead of this small cabin.
“The arrowhead is obsidian—veined withbasilisk venom,” Elias says dramatically. “It’s how it pierced through your armor.” He studies the arrow that had recently been embedded deep in my flesh. My shoulder twinges slightly at the sight, a phantom pain from that unexpected injury.
“That’s impossible,” I say, eyeing him and the arrow warily. He shrugs.
“That’s what the masters say.” I run a hand down my face.
“Where in the fucking hells did they find basilisk venom?? They’re supposed to be extinct!”
“There have long been rumors that some remain in caves deep within the ice giants on Zantos Island.”
I frown. I know the stories, of course, but to think that Kilgren actually believed in them enough to send his men that far north, through the treacherous Slyndrian Sea to that frozen island, and then into the caves of those icy mountains…all for something that could pierce my armor? That seems extreme, even for him. Though of course basilisk venom has other uses, I can’t help but think that this was for me, specifically. But why? Even an arrow straight to my heart wouldn’t be enough to end me. I don’t understand and I don’t like the feeling.
A knock at the door pulls my attention away.
“Enter.”
Highspear steps through the door and Elias flashes me a quick, sympathetic smile.
“Sir, I’d like to speak with you, if you have a moment?” the young vampire says. I can tell he’s trying not to sound nervous, but his voice shakes ever so slightly. I sigh, knowing what hewants and knowing how this conversation will end. Elias drops his boots from my desk and stands.
“I’ll just be going then.” He mouthsgood luckbefore leaving the war room, clapping Highspear on the shoulder as he passes.
“Have a seat,” I say, straightening in my high-backed chair. He sits in the one Elias had just vacated, though doesn’t dare prop his boots up. He bows his head before speaking.
“Sir, I want to petition for promotion…again.” A flash of anger flares in his brown eyes but it disappears quickly. He clears his throat gently before continuing. “I feel I’m ready, that I deserve it.”
I study the boy. He’s young, by immortal and mortal standards alike, only thirty or so when he was turned, and that only happened ten years ago. He looks young, as well, his features soft and child-like, eyes a bit too big for his face, the brown as dark as chocolate.
“Why do you want to be a sergeant, Highspear?” He blinks at that.
“I…well, doesn’t everyone want to be promoted?”
“No, actually. Many are happy to follow rather than lead. So, why do you want to lead?” I watch him intently as his brow furrows, clearly having given this question no thought before this moment. That tells me enough. But I wait, giving him a chance to explore it. Perhaps he’ll surprise me. It isn’t likely, but there are times when it happens…my mind drifts to a certain firebrand who surprises me at nearly every turn, but I close the thoughts away.
“I…I want people to listen to me,” he finally says. “To take me seriously. To do what I say and know that I’m right.” I sigh. I amnotsurprised. This is exactly why I’ve denied his promotion petition twice already. Though I’ve never asked him before, I’ve learned to read people very well in all my years, especially soldiers, and I’ve always known that he wants power for all thewrong reasons. He’s a decent enough soldier, seems like a decent enough man, I suppose, though I don’t know too much about him other than that he came from very poor, remote village in the far west.
“I have to deny your request, Highspear. I’m sorry.” He looks bewildered, his big eyes wide and full of surprise.
“But sir, I?—”
“You are not ready to lead, for you want to lead for the wrong reasons.”
“But—”
“It’s my final word on the matter.” I cut him off firmly, though not cruelly. Then, the bewilderment fades and something close to rage simmers in his eyes. His lips press into a thin line and his fingers curl into fists on his thighs. “You are a good soldier and I value you in this army, but you will not be a sergeant.”