Page 47 of Vows Forged in Blood

“What?” It was entirely too early and my brain wasn’t functioning properly.

“We received word last night from the High General that we were to begin your training immediately. We have been officially reassigned to your training sessions every morning until…” Wesley frowned. “Well, until he says otherwise, I suppose.”

“Now—up, up, up. We need to beat the sun.” Nova had tossed a bundle of clothing at me, smacking me in the face. I held them up, trying to force my vision to focus after being so rudely and abruptly awoken—before the fucking sun was even up.

“What are these?”

“Training clothes,” Wesley said, giving me a pitying look. “You are not the brightest flower in the garden in the mornings, are you, my love?”

“Out. Now,” I’d demanded, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed to go clean my teeth, wash my face to try to help me wake up, and apparently put on training clothes—whatever those were, exactly. Nova and Wesley had laughed and headedfor the door. “Wait,” I’d called. They’d turned at the door. “What if I had been sleeping naked?”

“Then we would have had a most excellent morning indeed,” Wesley had said, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe try that tomorrow?” Nova shoved him out the door at that and though I was intensely annoyed, I laughed.

Now, I struggle to breathe and glare at the two vampires.

“I hate you both.”

“You are many things, Dahlia Clayburn, but a liar is not one of them,” Wesley says, grinning. “Possibly the slowest human on the planet, yes. But a liar? No.”

“I’m notthatslow,” I grumble. I am, in fact, extremely slow. “Fine. Maybe nothate,but I definitely dislike you right now.”

“Well, you’re going toreallydislike us now—it’s time for abdominal work,” Nova says with a wicked gleam in her eyes that makes me think that this is the worst decision I’ve ever made.

After two gruelingweeks of running around the camp, pulling myself onto things or over things or under things, lifting heavy objects, and doing Nova’s favored abdominal exercises, I’m starting to get the hang of things and am actually seeing improvements—probably mostly thanks to Alaric’s blood still running through my veins. Without it, I imagine it would take me much longer for my body to grow accustomed to these changes. Even so, the first week I was so exhausted, irritable, and sore in spots I didn’t even know existed, that I’d nearly fallen asleep while eating dinner every night. Takara thought it was all very funny, but liked the idea of me learning to defend myself, though she insists that I’ll never have the need.

“Over my dead fucking rotting corpse will you ever be in danger like that again,” were actually her exact words on the matter, but still, she approves of my training.

Alaric had to leave for an expected trip to one of the other camps, but had a squire bring me a note explaining his absence and telling me he would be back soon. It was…nice of him. I really want to know what changed on that trip to the wilds, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever get the chance to ask—or if he would actually tell me, truth be told.

I can’t sleep, so I decide to finally write to Enid. I haven’t in weeks, not since the attack. A package from her had arrived the day after, while I was still sleeping—with the swords for the guard. I had barely been able to speak around the lump in my throat, realizing that three of them would never meet their new owners. The swords belonging to Descartes, Isaiah, and Kane remain in my trunk. I know I should give them to someone else, to the replacements Alaric has yet to appoint I suppose, but I just can’t stomach the thought of it. They weren’t just my guards, they were my friends. I can’t just give their swords away to someone else. I feel like if I do that, I’m saying they didn’t matter, that they are interchangeable with anyone else, their gifts easily passed on to anyone else.

I know I can’t put off writing to Enid any longer—she’s probably already worried—but I just don’t know what to say. I don’t want her and da to be worried about me, but not telling them what happened feels like a lie, and we’ve never lied to each other. Skirted the truth on silly things like staying out past curfew or who broke the ugly-as-sin vase that used to sit on the mantle, sure, but never on anything important. I take a deep breath and put pen to parchment.

Enid,

I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. Things have been a bit…crazy here. Before I write these next words I need to you know that I am alright. Read that again. I am perfectly fine, I promise you. But…there was an attack on our way back from the village several weeks ago. A Revenant attack, if you can believe it. Alaric and his men are doing all they can to try to figure out how they got through the pass and why they attacked, but no answers yet that I know of. Three of my guards were killed and…

My hand shakes and I have to stop for a moment before I can continue.

I was injured. I know you’re having a fit, but remember what I said before: I. AM. FINE. Alaric saved my life in more ways than one, and now I have a very bonny scar that I think makes me seem very mysterious and maybe even a bit of a rugged-arse, as da would say.

But guess what’s happening now? You’ll never guess, so I’ll just tell you: I’m being trained, almost like a real soldier! You know I’ve always wanted to learn to wield the weapons I make and now I am—and I’m being taught by Wesley and Nova, so it’s perfect. Though, to be fair, I haven’t gotten to start learning actual weapons yet, but I’m to start tomorrow. Soon your sister will not only have the sharpest tongue in all of Astoria’s Keep, butthe greatest hand with a blade. Ok, that’s probably a bit farfetched, but I’ll be able to look quite tough I imagine.

I miss you so much. Even after all these months, my room still feels too big and quiet without you at night. Have you had any luck deterring Leland in these weeks? Or, in the alternative, has he won you over? He’s not entirely horrible looking…

Also, to make up for my lack of letters and the worry I know you are feeling now, I’m sending you some gifts I got from the village that day. Don’t worry, I’ve cleaned the blood from them…Is it too soon to joke about this? Again – I really am fine now. It was scary, I won’t lie about that. Terrifying really, but I’m alright. Anyway, back to the gifts. I’ll give you a hint: they are very shiny and sparkly…I hope you love them.

Give da a hug for me.

I love you both so much.

~Dahlia

P.S.

I AM FINE. I just thought I’d remind you again.

I re-read the letter, hoping that I’ve said I’m fine enough to convince them both, though I know they’ll still be worried. I’m debating crumpling up the entire thing and starting over when I feel the tightness in my chest ease.Alaric. With all the blood he gave me, I’m back to feeling the strain when he’s gone like a fistaround my heart—and the utter relief when he’s back. I breathe the first easy breath I have in two weeks and decide the letter is fine. I seal the envelope and rummage in the trunk to find the necklace and ring I want to send, trying to ignore the swords as I do. They’re like giant accusatory fingers pointing at me, blaming me. I know that no one else sees it that way, but I can’t help but feel responsible for the deaths.

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