Страница 60 из 130
Chapter 24 Bane
There were many times when Wyn’s inexorable need to be in control of all things gave me a slight headache. No, that was a lie—a pounding headache, though I loved and appreciated her as the fine aunt and advisor she was.
“You, you, and you—” she snapped, pointing to three unfortunate maids. “Have the upper levels of the Tower of Summer made up for a Lord in residence immediately. No, don’t worry about the Silent Brother. He’ll stay in his current accommodations.”
I found the steward, instructing him to bring a message to Brother Glyn that he would soon be surrounded by vampires. It was unlikely that he would care—no Silent Brother old enough to have served in the war would be uncomfortable with our kind; we’d slept, eaten, and fought beside each other for ten years. Auré was already there, settling her retinue into their assigned quarters.
With that small duty done, I returned my attention to settling Wyn before she completely melted down, happily keeping Cirri clasped to my side.
Is he like you? she asked, looking up at me sidelong. I appreciated that she moved slower now, pausing when I was clearly puzzled over a word.
“In a ma
She nodded, but for once she didn’t respond to my jokes in kind; there was a slight crease between her brows, a worried look in those green eyes. She held my arm tighter than usual.
Perhaps she was concerned about another fiend in residence. Ancestors knew it couldn’t be comfortable for a human still learning our ways.
“He wouldn’t dream of harming you,” I told her. “There’s no need to fear him. Wroth has always loved women and children. His mutation hasn’t changed that.”
She smiled at me, but it was a distracted smile, an uneasy one. I couldn’t be afraid of any brother of yours, she said, but the movements of her hands were lacking in her usual confidence; she almost seemed to be trying to shrink in on herself.
Now I felt my own worry arise; what bothered my Cirri, my rose, the lady of my heart?
The question was on my lips and remained unvoiced. One of the human scouts reported to Visca at a run, tracking dirt over the scarlet rugs, and Wyn stared at the tracks with the full fury of a bloodwitch about to explode.
Visca’s lips stretched wide in a gritted-teeth grin. “Here he comes. Why don’t you go greet your brother, Bane? We’ve got things well in hand here.” She tipped her head towards Wyn, the silent message loud and clear: I can’t leave my wife or she will reduce the inhabitants of this castle to puddles of gore.
“Trust me, you’ll like him,” I told Cirri, leading my own wife from the chaos of the ballroom.
Her shoulders relaxed as we left the madness. Perhaps it was just Wyn’s overbearing ma
“I apologize for Wyn.” Her silence was begi
Cirri smiled again, an edge to the expression. Believe me, I’ve learned that peace of mind is not her forte.
I flexed a hand over her waist, cautious of my claws and the fine cloth she wore. “Is she telling you tales of fiends? Be assured, none of the vampires here will touch you. It is completely forbidden. All of them know this and none will break that decree.”
My wife shook her head as we stepped into the outer courtyard, where the paving stones had been scrubbed clean of lichen. I’m sure it’ll be fine, she said. I’m fine, Bane, really.
I didn’t believe her in the slightest, but perhaps meeting Wroth in person would help alleviate her worries.
“Open the gate,” I called up to the wall guard. Cirri was with me, and there was no greater protection against wargs; she had yet to step foot on wild Rift soil outside the keep.
“Come with me.” I took her hand, holding it gently, and led her outside the thick walls and off the road, into the forest proper, lifting my nose to breathe.
It was the clean scent of pine and mist that I loved, the faint mineral tang of the mines to the north. I breathed in deeply, tasting a hint of salt and leather: Wroth, approaching from upwind, letting me know of his presence.
Cirri craned her head to look up at the tall trees, walking over a carpet of moss and dry needles. It’s so much more peaceful out here.
“Yes. Sometimes I love the hunt, not for its own sake, but to just be outside, away from it all.” I took another deep breath, clearing my head. “Sometimes the keep is too much.”
She was loose and relaxed again, a forest sprite with that red hair, walking between bars of golden light. Yes. It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve really been outside. I didn’t realize how…
My wife trailed off, fisting her hands.
“How?” I prompted, curious as to her thoughts. Cirri’s cheeks reddened, her jaw tightening as she took several more steps into the forest.
She finally turned, that line between her brows back in place, but instead of signing she pulled her journal from her bag and quickly wrote. How trapped I felt. Please don’t be angry, or think that I’m complaining. Sometimes the walls feel like a giant cage. In Argent I could at least walk the city on my days off, and visit the parks. I would walk and think. Here, there are walls and guards around me everywhere I go. I don’t mean this as criticism towards you; I understand why. I just missed it—the quiet, the open space.
“How could I be angry to hear that?” I asked her softly, stepping towards her with my arms open. She came to me, resting her head on my chest. “I feel the same.” I stroked her hair, letting my fingers trail over the smooth nape of her neck, where the bruise had faded to an ugly yellowish green. “One day, all the wargs will be dead, and you will be free to leave the keep whenever you wish. All the Rift will be yours to walk.”
Only if you’re walking with me, she said, and my chest ached at the thought of it; Cirri and I, for all eternity, walking together. No part of the forest untouched by our feet, complete freedom to go wherever we chose.
But… I still could not fathom trapping her forever. Not in the walls of the keep, and not with eternal life, to be forever tied to me, a thing of blood and darkness.
“I’ll walk with you for as long as you desire.” I pressed my lips to her hair, tasting her scent, my thirst sated by the sweet blood she’d gifted to me.
I finally released her, letting her have this time in the forest to clear her mind, vowing to take her outside more often. She was a human who needed sun and fresh air, not a bird to be kept in a pretty cage.
As she strolled the clearing, touching trees and getting sap on her hands, crunching needles underfoot, I kept watch; tasting the air, untainted by wargs, idly pla
Her soft gasp pulled me from the reverie. Cirri stood at the far edge of the clearing, frozen in place with her back to me. Her hands moved jerkily: Hello?
There was an enormous, pale splotch in the trees, half-hidden by sprays of pine. It moved, the scent of salt and leather filling my nose.
The fiend stepped into the clearing, ice blue eyes fixed on my wife, his pupils dilated to the thi
“Wroth. Brother.” The relief that swamped me at the sight of one of my fellows, my brothers in blood and war, was unexpected. It had been ten long years since any of us had really seen each other, ten years since we’d signed our lives away for the Blood Accords, all standing together and knowing that from that moment on, we would never be the same. Ten years since I’d convinced them to become fiends alongside me.
And none of us had looked to the future; we had seen only the glory of war, the pride of taking thrones.
I still remembered Wroth at that table like it was yesterday, a powerful vampire with the stamp of the far north all over him, bones braided into his long white hair, blue eyes flashing as he roared with delight at the legions of wargs to come.
Before he became this.
His upper lip was split into a true muzzle to show his fangs, ears more rounded than mine. He was still frost and snow, with a thick mane of white hair streaming down his spine, and a short, velvety coating of white fur over pale skin.
My muscles tensed as he gazed at Cirri, giving no sign he had heard me. I studied him, relief becoming alarm.
There was no sign of the Wroth I knew in this fiend, his eyes blazing with bitterness and hate, his lips curled up to display sharp teeth.
But Cirri trusted me, she trusted my word: she stood her ground, gazing up at him, already raising her hands to speak.
I moved without thinking, leaping the distance of the clearing and almost knocking her over when I landed. I rose to my full height, baring my fangs at the fiend. Dread, unease rippling in my veins, bringing on the fuller form of the transformation; my skin burned as my body began to build its organic armor, my fangs lengthening, shoulder blades itching as wings tried to grow.
“Wroth!” I grabbed Cirri, shoving her behind me. I heard her intake of breath, heard the rip of fabric, but gave it no thought.
Until the soft, sweet scent of blood filled the air. Wroth’s nostrils flared, his back straightening. A powerful tail, tipped with long, silky white fur, lashed behind him.
“If you touch her, brother, I will end you without regret.” My voice was below a growl, nothing but the guttural rumble of a fiend’s speech.
Wroth’s eyes finally slid to me, and the hostility in his smile… I couldn’t lie. It hurt that a fiend as close as my own kin, my own blood-brother, would feel such hate.
“Would you?” he asked, his voice as rough and mangled as my own. “How can you have no regrets, Bane? I can save you from hell.”
I stared at him, torn between seeing the damage I’d done to Cirri with my own cursed hands, and protecting her from a mad fiend. Ancestors, if I’d let her walk any further on her own, trusting in my own blind preconceptions about my brother…
This was not the Wroth I knew.
“This is no hell,” I said, feeling a soft touch on my shoulder. “Who are you? What has happened to you?”
He snarled, the sound silencing the few birds who had dared venture near. “I am your brother, and the damned Accords happened! I don’t wish my pain on you, Bane—let us end it now, for your sake.”
It was surreal, a dream world that made no sense, and as the mind of a fiend drifted over my uppermost thoughts, I welcomed it—I didn’t want to be of a sane, conscious mind when I did what I’d have to do.