A vow of blood and tears

Chapter 13 Cirri

Ipushed my slate and chalk back into my bag, astonished at how woeful I was that our all-too-brief hour together had come to an end. I’d been walking on clouds the whole time, happy to finally speak to him, utterly unaware of the disaster that lay ahead of us that night.

At times, that creeping fear of what he was crawled back into my bones, urging me to run far and fast, to hide. But… he had made me laugh. It had been a long, long time since I’d genuinely laughed at anything.

Wyn had provided the bag for my use, and when I’d been informed that I would be traveling alone with my husband, I’d gone out of my way to make it clear that I wanted something for quick communication. The slate and chalk had been brought as Wyn had Yuli and Lissa bathe me within an inch of my life in preparation for meeting the people I would rule over.

It was a strange thought. I knew nothing of noble duties, or anything that might prove useful in leadership. I was as out of my depth as a horse dropped into deep waters.

But Bane made me feel like things were… possible. I knew I was a figurehead, important in name only, but perhaps there would be something I could do, some tangible use, to help foment friendly relations between our kinds. That was my only purpose now—be his wife, and ensure Veladar’s stability.

Embarrassment at what I’d said still burned hot on my cheeks as Eryan pulled us into the midst of Fog Hollow. Comparing vampires to the trap spiders of Serissa… it was unconscionably rude.

But it seemed Bane had entirely forgiven my lapse in judgment, his little jokes to put me at ease—and then he’d held my hand, studying my face with the intensity of a blind man seeing for the first time… had he been wanting to… kiss me?

I considered that notion, trying to ignore the prickle of goose flesh that rose over my back and arms at the thought. At times, I could see the vestiges of what had once been a finely-carved mouth, with an arched cupid’s bow, a full lower lip, stretching in easy smiles—before it was distorted by his thick, jutting jaw and the sharp teeth beneath.

Would his lips be as warm as his hands? I thought so, glancing at him sidelong as he studied the town outside the carriage.

But would they be as gentle? Or would those teeth ache to break flesh?

Could he kiss at all, with a mouth like that?

My musing came to a halt along with the carriage. Through the dark glass windows, I saw that Fog Hollow was not quite the provincial village I’d imagined: roaring bonfires in the harvested fields drew the eye first, then the garlands of primrose draped between stone houses and over tents. Even the fortress, much smaller than Ravenscry but no less imposing, had been festooned with the Fae-warding flowers.

Hundreds of Rift-kin surrounded us, some rolling kegs towards the bonfires, others dancing under flower poles hung with holly. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of how many people awaited us—at that moment, it felt like more people than I’d ever seen in Argent—and my fingers twitched.

This is much more than I expected, I signed, and found Bane watching me.

“I would expect you to be nervous, but I will be with you at all times, Cirri.” He reached out to touch my fingers; despite my fear, I loved the way he said my name, the slightest hint of a Nord accent turning it from a pet name into something infinitely more seductive.

As long as you stay with me, I said, touching his arm again. Not even his fine linen shirt was as smooth as the skin beneath; a strange thing to think about a fiend. I’ve never had to be the center of attention in my life. I don’t want to start now. 

To be sure he understood, I patted him and then myself.

His lips curled upward. “I won’t leave you.”

Relieved, I watched as he unbarred the carriage door and shifted himself outside, the entire carriage tipping to the side. He offered his hand and I took it without reluctance, clutching my bag close with one hand and wrapping the other through his arm, holding him tight.

For a moment I almost smiled to myself; I’d been terrified of him the night before, and now I clung to him like he was a shield.

Wyn and Visca were behind the carriage, Visca on a large black gelding, Wyn riding a dainty white mare. The bloodwitch dismounted and handed off the reins to one of the soldiers. “Time to go make nice,” she muttered to herself, and for once I found myself in total agreement with her.

The supply wagons were some way behind us, but from what Wyn had told me, they contained shipments of weapons and preserved food that would be distributed to the smaller settlements outside Fog Hollow. For now, we weren’t here to make deliveries, but to prove to these people that their lord protector was keeping his throne.

So I did my best to fix a smile, however tremulous, on my mouth, all too aware that these people would not look at me as a scullery maid.

Bane led me toward the bonfires, and outside the carriage I could see clearly that the entire village had gathered in this field for the celebration; long tables had been dragged out around the bonfires, what seemed like a thousand beer and wine kegs were already tapped, and every available surface was covered in red cloth or strewn with flowers.

There was a table reserved for Bane, made obvious not only by the fact that it was in pride of place in the celebrations, but by the enormous carved chair, big enough to sit a fiend.

And by the slightly smaller chair next to it—heavily entwined with elaborate garlands of primrose and holly. It would feel like sitting in a shrubbery.

But if it made these Rift-kin feel better about me, so be it. I’d sit in the shrubbery and touch cold iron all night if it eased their minds.

As we passed, Bane greeted many of the Rift-kin by name, reaching out to clasp shoulders and exchange quick pleasantries, particularly with the men. I realized these men—most of them scarred, some missing eyes or limbs—were the men he had fought with against the Forians.

They knew him, trusted him. He was not a shadowy figurehead in the castle to these people; he had shared blood, sweat, and tears with them, crawled through the same hardships day in and day out.

My stomach suddenly churned with a cramping ache. I had no place here. He belonged to them, and I was merely an outsider.

“May I introduce my wife, Lady Cirrien lai Darran?” he said to them, and the old warriors tipped their heads politely, all of them eyeing me with poorly-disguised curiosity.

I kept my smile in place and released Bane for a moment to sign. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

A lifetime of the same reaction had prepared me for the sudden confusion, quickly stifled, followed by skepticism. One of the men squinted at me. “Are you like… one of the Silent Brothers?”

I tipped my head and shrugged, gesturing. In a way.

Comprehension replaced skepticism. “Oh. So you made a vow of silence? I thought they didn’t take women.”

I shook my head, still smiling—by the Light, my lips were frozen in this position now—and touched my throat.

“She is unable to speak,” Bane said, the slightest, deeper warning growl in his tone.

They nodded slowly. A man with a scar that had carved out a good portion of his nose and upper lip shrugged. “Well, if you tell me there’s a warg over my shoulder, I’ll understand that, at least. We got that twelve times a day on the frontlines.”

One of the others laughed, and though the joke wasn’t fu

His lips were wet and unpleasant after the warm gentleness of Bane’s touch, but I squeezed his fingers in return regardless. Never had I suspected that these men who had fought alongside the Silent Brothers might be a boon to me, with some rudimentary understanding of my primary language.

I fended off several more questions about the Brotherhood before we made it to the table, but by the time Bane pulled out the garland-draped chair, word was spreading that his new wife was as silent as the sworn Brothers, who had vowed never to speak so as not to offend the Lady of Light with their mortal, male voices.

I glanced at the shrubbery with a silent sigh, and then realized that all the Rift-kin in the field—from the children poking sticks in the bonfires to the adults clutching mugs of beer—were watching. Some openly, some surreptitiously, but now their superstitions were on clear display.

The wedding might be over, the vows were made, but this wasn’t done until the people Bane ruled were satisfied.

I touched my husband’s hand and sat in the chair, a thick holly leaf poking the back of my neck. He pushed it in for me, and when I didn’t burst into flames or fling myself screaming from the braided greenery, the Rift-kin relaxed a little.

But a sudden silence fell, the raucous shouting and conversations coming to a halt.

Bane remained behind me, one hand braced on the chair back, as a village priest of the Light, wearing white robes and carrying a gnarled staff, came to me. The Rift-kin watched as he placed a crown of primrose on my head, and pulled out a gnarled iron lump on a cord around his neck.

The priest smiled at me, and pressed the cold iron to my forehead. Long moments passed; he finally took it away, and I kept my hands in place, though I wanted to rub the spot.

“She is human,” the priest a

“Now the worst is over,” Bane murmured to me, taking the larger seat at my side. “All you have to do is drink and be merry.”

I pulled out my slate once more, hiding it in my lap under the table. I wrote in small letters and tilted it towards him surreptitiously: Are they still that afraid of the Fae? They’re long dead.

I erased it as soon as Bane read it, not wanting to insult our hosts.

“They’re as dead as it gets, yes. Those of us who lived in the Below made sure of that.” Bane’s teeth flashed. “But there is a long, long history in the Rift, between all of our kinds. Ravenscry was the last of the four keeps to be built, if only because the Fae that remained after their great migration fought long and hard to keep the Rift, and its people, in their possession. If there’s one thing we can all thank Liliach Daromir for, it was the eradication of their kind.”

I considered that, watching as more men came to offer their congratulations to the Lord of the Rift. Odd to think that our once-greatest enemy, the Blood Empress, had done us a good turn, even if she hadn’t meant to.

Odd to think that humans and vampires, brutal enemies for centuries, were entirely united against a common foe both then and now.