Page 119 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

I tried again, and again, before finally leaning back on my heels.

My heartbeat was a little too fast. Nausea simmered in my stomach.

It didn’t have to mean anything. Sometimes, reaching the Salt Keep didn’t work. The Sisters were busy, and the Sightmother was busier. It wasn’t unheard of that Sisters weren’t able to make contact just because no one happened to be waiting around at the Salt Keep for them.

But I had come too far to lie to myself. I had a bad feeling about this.

I touched the dagger at my side—the dagger that had not come anywhere near Atrius’s heart.

Tomorrow we marched for the Pythora King.

I just needed to get through that. Afterwards, the Arachessen were welcome to kill me for my disloyalty.

I stood and walked away, leaving the untouched pool behind me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The pass reeked of danger. Everything about it felt like a place inhospitable to all life. The stones were foreboding and jagged, leaving barely enough room between them to cut through, even for the most surefooted travelers. The fog was so thick here that it blotted out the sun completely—so thick that I could feel it in each breath, and in the threads themselves, like all senses were coated in a thick, blurred layer. The slyviks weren’t visible, not with eyes nor even with the threads, but I could sense them distantly, like flitting, deadly shadows, impossible to pinpoint.

I could understand why this place had claimed so many lives. The journey through the pass could take a human fourteen days, if they were very, very quick. But no one was quick, because attempting to navigate the maze of the pass with eyes alone was a foolish, losing proposition.

Atrius, arrogant as he was, figured we could make the trip in seven days.

In theory, maybe he was right. Vampires were hardier than humans. Their eyesight was far better in the dark. They healed faster, didn’t need as much food to survive. And, Atrius pointed out smugly, they had me—our key to making it through the pass without getting lost.

I wanted to believe him. Needed to believe him. Time loomed overme like the shadows of the slyviks I knew were waiting for us ahead. How long would it take for the Arachessen to kill me?

Not long. They were very efficient.

Seven days, I figured, could work.

Atrius and I stood at the front of his army. Not many of his warriors would make the journey with us—he had lost so many, and more still needed to stay behind to care for the wounded. It seemed laughable to think that this army of one hundred men could be the downfall of the Pythora King.

But then again, these weren’t men.

Still, as I stood beside Atrius at the narrow gap between these jagged rocks, feeling my own mortality’s breath at the back of my neck, I found myself with a strange sensation: raw, genuine fear.

Time, Atrius had told me once, the first time I healed him.I just need time.

I understood that now.

That morning, before we left, I had sat down to compose what I knew would likely be my final letter to Naro. All of them had been stilted and awkward, fuller of the things I didn’t say than the things I did. Mundane questions that didn’t matter—How are you feeling? How are they treating you? How is the weather in Vasai?

He never responded, of course.

This morning, I sat before that blank paper for a long time without writing. It seemed disingenuous to give him my usual forced small talk, even if it was the most comfortable option.

I had given up the comfortable option.

I would likely die soon. He would likely die soon. Both of us were being slowly strangled by those who had taken all our faith. We had no one to blame but ourselves.

What the hell were we pretending for, anymore?

So this time, I wrote what I really meant.

Naro—

I love you.

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