Page 133 of The Star's Sword

“Down with the fake Morningstar!”

“Prove the fake donations!”

Truly, I’d given a lot of blood, but I had no idea if Vasara had given more. I still didn’t know if she had just put her name on my barrels or donated so much mine got lost in with hers.

“I don’t agree to this,” Vasara said quickly, walking over to Simon and grabbing his sleeve.

He quickly pulled out of her hold, like she was something disgusting he didn’t want touching him. “Now, now, Vasara, don’t worry.” He raised his voice, addressing the arena again. “As long as Vasara’s blood has fed you even once, you will pass the test.”

The vampires began murmuring excitedly, then cheering.

“Vasara! Miracle!” They began chanting again.

Vasara looked at me, then at Simon, so pale, so drawn, I truly wondered if she was going to faint.

“Simon, don’t do this,” she said. “I don’t want this.”

Simon smiled at her, flashing a fang. “Then you shouldn’t have even looked at my friends wrong, you stupid fucking bitch.” His tone was light, but his words hit Vasara like a ton of bricks, and she slumped slightly as Simon turned to the vampires.

“Last chance for everyone to take their place!” He looked to the hill. “Those outside the spectator area will not be subject to the blood trial.” He stared at the hundreds of vampires wrapped around her side of the spectator arena. “So be it.”

He raised his hands, and I felt all the thousands of vampires watching from the hill and the lands of the keep holding a breath along with me, as the vampires on Vasara’s side all grinned goofily, making faces at me like they couldn’t wait to be right and support her in fighting against me.

I looked into their eyes one by one, wondering which had my blood.

“I invoke blood loyalty!” Simon said, raising his hands and closing them. “Blood, speak now!”

It was quiet for a moment, and Vasara smirked at me, as I looked back at my friends, none of whom were vampires or affected.

I shrugged, turning back to Vasara, and then I saw steam rising from her side of the spectator area.

The screaming started almost instantly, sounding like a choir of howls of pain and agony. Unearthly, so loud it drowned out everything around.

“Betrayal!” a vampire screamed, as I saw their face melting like hot candle wax, an eyeball falling from its socket as the vampire grabbed at it, sinking to the ground as its legs seemed to be melting inside its clothes.

“Vasara,” another shrieked, dragging itself along the ground with hands melting to bones, smears of legs dragging behind it.

All around the arena, the vampires hissed and melted and shrieked, and reached for her, and tried to reach her. They surrounded her entire half of the forcefield, hissing and burning against it. Some of them died with their claws out, scrabbling to get into the arena.

To avenge themselves on her or to get to me, I would never know.

“Vasara!” A weak scream here or there, amid the hissing and the smell of burning flesh, was all that was left of her crowd.

That and hundreds of piles of jewels and clothes.

Vasara ignored the jeers that were rising on the hill, the angry yells from the elder vampires who hadn’t risked the blood loyalty test.

Thousands of vampires had watched this and it had told them something they didn’t want to know.

“Has she even donated? Even once?” a vampire yelled.

“Who was it that started the rumor that Cleo was fake?”

Whispers, murmurs and discussions were rising on the grounds around us, as vampires came into the spectator area to start cleaning up the mess left by so many betrayed vamps.

They’d been so ready and willing to die for her, and she hadn’t given her blood for them. Not even once.

My hands clenched, anger and sorrow filling me at the harm one selfish, cowardly person could do, when they wanted everyone in the world to take the pain for them.

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