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Because of her, our bloodwitches would no longer fear the flames.
For that, she would be treated like gold by my people.
I was spared having to come up with a response for Wyn, something to settle her nerves that I might back out of the agreement—the walls of Argent loomed outside the carriage.
Ancient walls, several feet thick and nearly thirty feet high, inlaid with hundreds of thousands of silver stars—each supposedly placed for every human who died during the fall of the Red Epoch five hundred years ago, when the Veladari people rebelled against the last vampire empress, Liliach Daromir.
I didn’t doubt the veracity of that claim. Driven underground by the rebels, the surviving vampires had had many centuries to come to terms with the fact that the humans were treated as little more than livestock during the empress’s reign.
The Blood Accords ensured that while our people would not be threatened with silver nor fire, neither would we threaten them. Drinking blood from an unwilling human was punishable by death now, each Lord expected to uphold the letter of the law within his domain.
But while silver bells and blades had been removed from gates and doorways, the silver stars of Argent remained as a permanent reminder of our past.
The carriage slowed as we approached the gates to the city, but it was clearly marked with the crest of Ravenscry, and the guard waved us through. As we passed, I saw him craning his head, trying to peer through the smoked-glass windows.
Argent spread before us, sprawling buildings stacked one on another along winding cobblestone streets. The reek of the city assaulted my nose even through the walls of the carriage, a gut-churning stew of smoke, rotten food, and piss.
Not for the first time, I found myself already missing the Rift, the cool, clean mist and pines.
And the sounds… my ears twitched and swiveled, trying to rotate to catch the thousands of voices, and I forced them to be still.
Wyn slipped the pen in her pocket, shuffled her papers in order, and laid her hands atop them. “What a noisome hellscape. Well, we’ll be doing the girl a favor by taking her out of this.”
The Silver Cathedral was in the center of the city. Throngs of humans surrounded us, the carriage driver shouting at them to back away as he pushed through.
I pulled my hood up over my head, ensuring I was sunk well into the shadows of the black cloth.
“Bravery, Bane,” Wyn said softly. “If you can meet the screaming hordes of Foria with a smile, you can manage the girl.”
“It’s not for me.” I tugged the hood lower. “It’s for them.”
Mine was not a face any of them wanted in their dreams tonight.
The Silver Cathedral was true to its name: every doorway hung with silver bells, garlands of rowan woven over windows. The spires were once white, now stained with soot.
The rest of Argent had moved on from their superstitions. Vampires walked among them; they were made welcome. Few houses hung bells in their windows or swept their thresholds with rowan brooms.
Not so with the Silver Sisterhood. Every aspect of their stronghold was a warning to our kind to stay out.
The carriage driver maneuvered us to the stables attached to the Cathedral, hiding the crowds behind stone walls.
“A last look, Wyn.” I smoothed down the lapels of my shirt, the fine tailoring a mockery of what lay beneath it. My reticence was no excuse for not trying to make myself as presentable as possible.
Wyn looked me over, her face slowly shifting into a grimace as she spoke. “Your clothes are fine. The girl will have her work cut out for her in keeping her composure, but perhaps… smile with your mouth closed, if you must do so at all. Actually, don’t smile at all. Maybe the hood should remain up as well.”
Another reason why I valued Wyn: she would not lie to me.
The driver opened the door for us, and I unfolded myself from the carriage, stepping onto neatly-swept stones. It took conscious effort to prevent my nostrils from sealing themselves shut against the full reek of the city, now unmitigated by carriage walls.
Several Sisters emerged from a plain door in the Cathedral, staring up at me speechlessly. A few mouths had dropped open, revealing the glint of silver teeth. They were all draped in plain white robes, wearing silver rings and rowan braided in their hair.
Wyn pushed in front of me, giving them a cool smile. “Lord Bane has arrived for his bride.”
The Sister in front shut her mouth. “Follow us, please. The Eldest Sister is prepared to perform the wedding.” She ushered the others inside, holding the door open for us.
Wyn moved beneath the garland of rowan with hardly more than a twitch. I had to hunch over to fit through the door, the toxic stench of the rowan burning in my nose.
And then we were through, led through a dark corridor to the main hall, where their services, and my wedding, would take place.
No one had decorated for the occasion. The cathedral was devoid of celebrants, except for the Eldest Sister standing before the altar with a cup of wine, accompanied by several armed younger Sisters.
That in itself was an insult, one I wouldn’t respond to. The Eldest Sister was an old woman, who had been anointed long enough that her gums had turned a darkened gray. Claw marks had left jagged scars on her face and hands.
And then I saw the girl.
Time slowed as I took her in, the fine bones and gleaming red hair, large eyes that searched the shadows beneath my hood. She was old Veladari blood, the shade of that gaze a green so deep it was like staring into a primordial forest.
I had not expected beauty. Not for something like me.
Nor had I expected such composure, a very pleasant surprise. She stood with her back straight, chin lifted… and then I took in what they had done to her.
She wore a crimson Veladari wedding dress, hastily tailored to her small frame. A sloppily-braided crown of rowan perched on her fiery hair. Silver bells gleamed at her wrists.
Another insult. I supposed I could count myself fortunate that they had skipped their bridal tradition of brushing silver dust over her throat.
The girl swallowed hard as she stared back at me, her throat moving, and my gaze was inexorably drawn to the pulse of her heart, just beneath that pale skin.
Beneath the stench of rowan, her scent was clean, fresh. Like the Rift.
The bubble in time was broken as Wyn made an approving sound under her breath, marking her notes without looking at the pages. “Oh, lovely. I smell no sickness in her, and she’s not so young as to make this situation uncomfortable. And that hair… she’s from one of the old noble houses, mark my words.”
I couldn’t bring myself to speak under that measuring green gaze.
With several steps, I stood at the altar, close enough to touch my new bride. She did not look away, watching me curiously, still trying to glance under my hood.
Wyn made a final notation on her papers, making the Eldest Sister wait for her attention, and finally looked up at her. “May I present Bane the Lifegiver, Lord of the Rift, Ski
I nodded to the Sisters. “My thanks, priestesses, for my bride—and hosting our wedding.”
The Eldest Sister favored us with a crooked smile. “Welcome.” From her tone, we were anything but. “I give you Cirrien lai Darran as your tithed bride, my Lord. Let us join you in, ah… holy matrimony.”
Cirrien… it was a pretty name. Not as pretty as she was, but I found myself marveling at my sudden turn of fortune as I stood in front of the altar, only a foot away from that mouthwatering scent.
Soap and roses… and beneath it, sweet blood.
But she was a lai, a high noble bloodline. The situation made no sense—they dressed her to insult me, but gave me nobility for a bride?
I wondered what their game was. What was the sting in the tail?
She was from the Sisterhood… perhaps she would try to bury a silver dagger in my heart the first moment I dropped my guard. Or maybe she had been anointed with those cursed silver teeth.
The Eldest Sister was speaking, distant noises in the background as I glanced sidelong at my future wife. Her hands were trembling; one of the bells on her wrist chimed, the high sound sending sharp pains through my fangs.
Then it chimed louder as she reached for the cup of wine, bringing it to her mouth for a quick sip. I caught a glimpse of white teeth, no silver to be seen.
The Eldest Sister gestured at her imperiously.
Cirrien turned to me, offering me the cup—and as she took in my clawed, long-fingered hands, large enough to crush her skull, her own hands shook harder.
Another thin streak of pain raced through my skull as the bells sang.
I took the cup and lifted it to my mouth, eager to be out of the lung-burning presence of rowan and silver.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the Eldest Sister said quickly. “We have upheld our end of the agreement.”
Wyn presented her with a paper, giving her the pen. The vampire slayer scrawled her name at the bottom, and thus the Blood Accords remained unbroken—on the human side, at least. This was no true wedding, according to our own customs.
My bride was still watching me as my advisor handled the paperwork. Beautiful, delicate… and I could not resist the desire to give her one last chance.
One last chance to save herself before it was truly too late.
I reached up and pushed my hood back, revealing the full aberration of what she was to vow herself to.
Her eyes widened. The bells chimed once more, suddenly silenced as she curled her fingers at her sides. Several stifled gasps rose from the witnessing Sisters, more than one moving back a step before catching themselves.
I stared at her, waiting for the scream. The horror. The despair.
Cirrien gazed back. My ears swiveled, narrowing in on the frantic gallop of her heart, but she didn’t move an inch—only her eyes moved, studying my face. She had gone several shades paler, but the shriek never arrived.
With her paperwork concluded, Olwyn turned to find me hoodless, and Cirrien frozen like a doe before the hunter. From long experience, I knew she was resisting the urge to slap a hand to her face.
“Well, she didn’t scream,” my advisor said brightly. “An auspicious begi
The Eldest Sister let out a harsh laugh that echoed through the empty cathedral. “This one doesn’t scream. I think you’ll find that this one doesn’t say much at all.”