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I didn’t want to remember destroying a vampire I’d once trusted with my life.
But the soft touch on my shoulder grew stronger—Cirri patted me, sidling past my outstretched arm.
Bane, don’t do this, she said, signing with bloodied fingers. I sucked in a breath at the sight of that bright, wet redness. He’s your brother. You’ll regret it forever if you do. Whatever happened to him, he needs your help, not your anger.
I exhaled, staring at her hands, trying to release my rage. “He would kill you, my lady.”
No, she said, eyes bright with desperation and pain. He’s hurting. Can’t you see it?
I couldn’t stand her being so close to him, only an arm’s length away from fatal harm—I reached for her, taking her in my arms once more, and found where I’d slashed her with my claws. Her upper arm was damp with fresh blood, a scent that made my mouth water, but she didn’t pull away.
It’s shallow, she signed. No more than a scratch.
Wroth recoiled at the sight of my human bride nestled against me, his claws flexing uncertainly at his sides.
What was it about her that brought his blood up? Why her?
I slowed my racing heart, made a decision.
“If you touch Cirri, I will destroy you, brother or not.” I met his pale blue eyes, his bitterness giving way to furious confusion as he looked between me and my wife. “Don’t force my hand.”
To my surprise, he laughed, a harsh sound. He shook his hands out, the hostility fading, replaced by bewilderment and a cynical expression. “So I was wrong? We’ll see. Time will prove me right, brother.”
“I have no idea what you speak of,” I growled, clutching Cirri closer—she was trembling slightly.
“She will make your life a living misery.” Wroth snarled the words, stepping forward so he was nearly spitting them in her face. “You will beg the ancestors for this moment again, so I can end it before it begins!”
My teeth ached; I carefully maneuvered Cirri aside. That was enough.
I would hate myself forever, but I would not allow a fiend to live who threatened her, brother or not.
But Cirri refused to be moved. She planted her feet, like she was one of the pines who had been here for a hundred years or more, and looked Wroth right in the eye.
If I’m making his life a misery, that’s between Bane and myself, she told him. As for you—you can either move out of my face and behave like a civilized person, or my husband will kill you. I would prefer the first option, if only because I don’t want to see him suffer for your delusions. Make your choice: act right, or sit outside all night like a spanked dog. It’s all the same to me.
Wroth’s lip twitched, revealing the glimmer of teeth. “What did she say?”
“She told you to stop acting like a toothless infant deprived of a tit.” I was gratified by the astonishment in his eyes as he peered at her again. “So what will it be? You’re always welcome, Wroth—but not if you treat my wife like this in her own home. If I can’t trust you, you have no place here.”
The fiend took a step back, pacing over the needles Cirri had trod moments before. She stroked my arm as Wroth thought it over, shooting her the occasional opaque glance.
Clearly he’s had troubles of his own, she told me, keeping one eye on him. He’s expecting these same troubles from me. And if he’s willing to kill me… well, it must be pretty bad. I’d hear him out, Bane.
“You’re very forgiving, for a woman who was about to be gutted,” I murmured against her ear.
She looked up at me, and cupped my cheek briefly. I feel as if I’ve known you my whole life, she said. I feel fortunate every day that I wake up, knowing I will see you.
“I feel the same.”
Cirri glanced at Wroth, who was muttering to himself.
He doesn’t. I would watch his wife, she said wisely. She might never have overcome her fear of him.
“Wroth.”
The fiend stopped pacing, throwing me a black look. “What.”
“Is… is your wife coming?” He’d sent out the news five years ago when he’d married her, and I’d forgotten her name already.
“Kajarin?” he sneered. “Of course. Ancestors forbid the Lord and Lady of the Rivers be separated. She’s in the carriage, an hour behind me.”
Cirri squeezed my arm, brief but tight, and all at once I understood a little of Wroth’s pain. It was… exactly what I’d feared for myself. A woman who thought me hideous, who hated all I was, a woman who would rather live locked away in poppy dreams.
And all at once, my anger faded, the embers becoming cold ash. “There are still wargs,” I said quietly. “Do you wish us to send reinforcements to guard her?”
Wroth stared at me defiantly, his silent answer shocking but clear.
Come inside, my wife told him. She offered a hand to the fiend, beckoning him, and he gazed at her mistrustfully. Come with us. You’re with your brother now.
That night found us in the dining hall, that great empty expanse that Cirri had hated, but it was the only place to fit us all.
The long table had been covered with dark silk, elaborate iron candelabras filling the cold room with warm light. For the humans, di
But her lack of appetite was not because of the wound. Wroth sat opposite me, his anger now constrained into a bitter silence as he sipped from a goblet; Yuli was old enough to volunteer her blood, and had bled into it for him. There would be no convict blood for honored guests.
Kajarin lai Orros, Lady of the Rivers, sat to his left, directly across from Cirri. I didn’t know what to make of her.
I had expected a timid mouse, shrinking away at the sight of vampires. Perhaps a woman with dull, glazed eyes and a di
But she was aware, no scent or sign of poppy in her veins. She could have been pretty, I supposed, with those strawberry blonde curls and big blue eyes. The coloring of a pureblood Veladari, denoting half her worth to the Blood Accords.
But she was… gaudy. Her corset had been laced tight, pushing her breasts up to a comical height. The dress itself was bright pink Serissan silk, a fortune in fabric and dye—to say nothing of the chains of diamonds woven in her hair, dripping from her ears, draped over the ludicrous mountains of cleavage, and glittering on her fingers.
Cirri seemed equally nonplussed by Wroth’s wife; her eyes had nearly bugged out of her skull when she first laid eyes on the woman, fighting her way free from the carriage in a spume of silk and lace.
Kajarin had greeted her buoyantly, every movement exaggerated with cheerful, bubbly motions; she’d gripped my wife’s shoulders, kissed her on both cheeks, and exclaimed over everything she saw.
As she was exclaiming now over the roasted hens, while Cirri watched her sidelong.
So… what was the problem? An over-the-top personality was no reason to want her dead. She had been showered in bride gifts, the diamonds alone putting my small gifts for Cirri to shame.
Wroth’s gaze was fixed somewhere over my shoulder, eyes unseeing as he took another draught. Auré, sitting on his other side, had forgone a donor; she toyed with a glass of bloodwine, her mouth set in a thin line.
Altogether, it was an awkward di
I watched from the corner of my eye as Cirri took a small bite, pleased that she hadn’t simply pushed it to the side.
“Your courtesy is so appreciated, Lord Bane,” Kajarin said, drawing my attention to her. She leaned forward, looking at me from under her lashes. “This castle is absolutely lovely. Owlhorn is so drafty and cold, it’s impossible to feel warm there.”
Wroth lapped at his goblet and muttered, “Not for you, it isn’t.”
Kajarin continued like she didn’t hear him. “I’d love a private tour of the grounds, if you have the time?” Her lips were rouged, and she pouted them at me, eyes glittering. Somehow, between the rouge and the grease of the food, I was reminded of a mouth smeared with gore. “You could tell me of the battles here! I’ve heard you were the most vicious fiend of all—the Ski
“Wyn will take you on a tour, Lady Kajarin,” I said, discomposed by the mental image of Kajarin, dripping diamonds, with her face plunged into an open wound. “She knows far more about the history of the Rift and its grounds than I do.”
My bloodwitch, on Kajarin’s left, smiled at me politely and eyed a butter knife.
Kajarin let out a small laugh, pressing a hand to her bosom. “Why, that’s so kind of you, but as you yourself have been through so many campaigns, I’d like to hear all the gory details from the man himself. You must have been so brave. There’s something so manly, so virile, about being up close to a warg yourself and taking its head off with your bare hands.” She sighed, almost a parody of a sexual sound. “I’m available any time, day or night. Just let me know and I’m all yours.”
I caught Wroth, catching his eye for a fraction of a second, just enough time to silently ask: what the hell?
My brother remained stone-faced, but I heard the distinct sound of claws digging into the arm of a chair.
I shifted uncomfortably as Auré’s eyes glittered, a dangerous tilt to her head. The vampire, who had served as an ambassador and messenger both on the battlefield, and after we’d taken our thrones, looked angry enough to bite.
“Lady Olwyn can manage it, Kajarin,” she said, and while Auré never snapped, she was close to it now. “Their time is important—entertaining you is the least of their concerns.”
Kajarin fingered an earring, a diamond the size of a robin’s egg, and that grotesque pout returned. “I merely thought the Lord of the Rift might be willing to extend his hospitality to a sister-in-law. I’ve been yearning to meet him for years.”
Cirri suddenly smiled, and signed to Kajarin, her movements more boisterous than I’d ever seen them. She looked friendly, from her smile to her broad motions, but her words…
His hospitality doesn’t include ending up in your bed. Perhaps you should kindly fuck off back to the Rivers, and give your husband a moment of peace from your mind games.
I was astonished to silence for a moment. My wife had said fuck, in polite conversation, at di