Page 124 of A Steeping of Blood
He would be the criminal they said he was. He would steal one.
“I will leave you with one last question: How long will it be before you become the enemy when the Ram tires of demonizing vampires?” he asked, skimming the room while he spoke.
There was a window farther down the wide atrium, tucked between two whitewood bookshelves. The Council was bound to rise from their round table at some point, and Jin had seen one of the members donning their mask only after their arrival. They didn’t wear them all the time.
He would sneak in before they left for the tribute and snatch one for himself.
Because he was done trying to appeal to a table of snooty old folks. Jin turned on his heel before they could speak another word. He didn’t know if that was how one shouldnotleave a high-and-mighty Council, but he certainly hoped they were miffed and disrespected. Matteo and Flick hurried after him, and Jin could hear the Council dispersing in their wake, feet shuffling, voices rising and falling as they likely mocked him behind his back.
“Halt!”
Jin was unsure he’d even heard the voice for how quiet it was. Matteo and Flick hadn’t, only realizing when Jin stopped and turned. It was the Council member with the beautiful-eyed mask. The only one who’d spoken somewhat in their favor.
“Are you truly the Siwangs’ son?” the man asked, then he tilted his head and stepped closer. “Great seas. You’re a spitting image of Shaw, aren’t you?”
Jin nodded, wary.
“I gave your father that calling card,” the Council member said, tilting their head. It was only then that Jin caught the slight hint of an accent. “Your parents were good people, and I always suspected the Ram had something to do with the fire that burned down their house.”
He’d suspected, but had done nothing? Jin bit his tongue against a snide remark.
“I cannot stop the Council from attending the tribute,” the Council member continued, “nor can I strip the Ram of power, not unless we are shown tangible proof of the monarch’s crimes.”
That, Jin could understand. It was why Penn had been moving so slowly—to gather what the Council required would take far too long. And require far too much patience.
Jin found that his own patience was running thin, and there was also the small issue of the longer the Ram remained in power, the higher the dead bodies piled.
“I can, however, aid in your efforts on my own, if your requests are within means. How might I assist you?”
Jin studied him; the eyes that stared back at him through the mask were as dark as Arthie’s, the skin the same shade, wrinkles crowding the edges.
“How can we trust you?” Matteo asked.
After a fleeting glance back to the winding walkway, the Council member nudged them to a corner, where he hesitated before deciding upon something.
He removed his mask. “The same way I trust you: out of choice.”
He was an older gentleman Jin had never seen before. Nor had Flick or Matteo, by the looks of it. He was brown, possibly from Jeevant Gar or even Ceylan. Jin hadn’t expected anyone but a peaky to be on the Council. It gave him hope.
“Are you allowed to show us your face?” Flick asked, aghast.
“No,” he said simply. His eyes were a light shade of brown, keen in the shadows. “Nor am I allowed to tell you my name. Rayan. If I were to walk in public, no one would know who I am, but I quite like the idea of three champions allowing me to be a part of their victory.”
“We’re talking of toppling the Ram,” Matteo said carefully, as if the man might have misheard.
“I’m aware, and I ask again. How might I assist you?”
“Well,” Jin said, tossing a glance at Matteo and Flick, then down to the mask clutched in Rayan’s hand. “Since you insist, there is one thing.”
46ARTHIE
Arthie unlocked the heavy door with the key Laith had lifted and carefully opened it, heart in her throat. She rarely feared for her life, but she felt bare without Calibore, not as whole and not as strong. She imagined Matteo beside her, telling her otherwise.
“Plotting my death?” Laith asked behind her.
“I don’t need nearly that much effort,” she whispered back. She could hear voices out in the hall.
“I count nine,” Laith said, and Arthie scowled when she saw his head peering through the gap above her. She scanned their prison one last time for anything that might aid their escape, but the Ram had left them nothing. No, she’dtakenfrom Arthie instead.
