I pause, the three of us wincing as we try not to think about the vile way ghoul blood tastes. Growing up, before I was a member of the royal family, ghoul blood was one of my main sources of nourishment—if you can call it that. It was like drinking mud, but worse. Ghoul veins seem to be filled with the same grainy sludge that sits in the bottom of ponds.
Having to stomach that repulsive flavor is one of the few things about my pre-prince life that I don’t miss.
Swallowing the nauseating memory, I continue. “We knew this wouldn’t be easy. It’s why my father dispatched most of the Crimson Guard. The humans are hiding somewhere. We just have to find them.”
A hunger takes hold of Renee, one that has her sliding a slender finger down the crevice exposed by her deep V-line dress.
Frowning, I avert my attention elsewhere, to the damp, twisting street ahead, to the endless grey stone buildings, to whatever lies ahead. We can’t give up though. Or at least, if we do, we might as well never return to Neveridge. If we don’t procure enough donations for the Hunt—or rather, if my father can’t force the noctis under his employ to secure enough humans in time for the annual festivity—the participating noctis will revolt. Then there wouldn’t be a castle to return to anyway.
Planting my knuckles on my hips, I reassess our situation. “Maybe we need to cover more ground. If we each went a different way—”
Renee makes a disgusted sound. “Go different ways? Don’t even joke. You know we’re safer together. That’s why you sent everyone off in pairs to begin with.”
The notion doesn’t seem to sit well with Caz, either, but as usual, he masks his concern behind humor. “Don’t tell me you’re sick of us already?”
“Not in the slightest,” I say. “But Renee is right. We need a victory. And how long will we be on this wild goose chase? For all we know, everyone in Gravenburg is dead. It’ll take us three times as long to search this neighborhood if we stick together.”
“I’m not going out there on my own!” Renee shrieks. “You’ve seen what they do to us!”
“You forget,” Caz says. “He hasn’t.”
That truth stings a little. It hasn’t entirely been my choice to remain closed off from the realm. Or has it? I suppose my father wouldn’t mind if I went out more, but what reason do I have to go? To see the devastation? I’ve witnessed enough of it for my short lifetime, thank you. To indulge in the carnage? The others enjoy the thrill of a good hunt, but me? I’m afraid I see no point in it.
Renee rolls her eyes. “Fine, but he’s definitely heard about it. The noctis bodies they’ve been finding all over the United Realm?”
Oh, I’ve heard about the bodies alright.
Even during what limited time I spend in my father’s court, I’ve overheard dozens of stories brought to him by distraught barons and advisors, all describing similar accounts of noctis who have been alleviated of their hearts, their brains, some even without flesh.
Someone is experimenting on us.
The reports are so vastly spread though that my father is unsure who’s responsible, let alone where they’re residing. It’s one of the many reasons that he moved the location of the Hunt this year to the dreary Shadowthorn; most of the discarded bodies they’ve discovered have been from this region.
“Of course, I know about the bodies.”
Frowning, I drag my fingers over my head and through the long, white hair I’ve been forced to grow out, cursing every tangle I snag on. When I was younger, I was foolish enough to think that when I finally became an adult, I’d be able to do what I wanted with my own hair. How wrong I’d been. Even at eighteen, my father still won’t allow any of our hairdressers to cut off any of the length beyond an annual trim. It’s a family trait, our white hair, and one that should be worn proudly for how iconic it’s made us, according to him.
One of these days I’ll finally lose my patience and hack it all off, toss the tail at my father’s feet, and tell him I’m done being a Devonshire.
Soon. Once we reach Nigh, the time will come all too soon enough.
“What if we regroup with the others instead?” Caz offers, pulling me out of my head. “For all we know, they might’ve had better luck with all of this.”
Renee’s laugh is haughty, her slender nose pinched. “Right, because I’m sure Ursulette and Rhain aren’t off somewhere fucking; Harland and Davorin aren’t feasting upon whatever pathetic souls they happened upon; and Gregor and Boris didn’t botch whatever scouting attempts they’ve been trying to make.”
The accuracy with which she depicts our laughable situation is painful. While the two of them continue arguing, I massage my temples, wondering why my father even let me leave with these fools. Each and every one of them is a formidable opponent and a skilled killer. But as far as being the best for a search and capture mission? We might’ve had better luck bringing along rabid ghouls.
Unless, of course, he expected me to fail.
With dawning irritation, I realize he must’ve. Why else send me off with these goons instead of his best teams of Crimson Guards? Why else send us to this ghost town, where we haven’t seen so much as a ghoul since our arrival, let alone a human being?
He expects me to fail? I’ll show him how capable I really am.
“Caz is right,” I blurt over their bickering. “You both are. We’ve been at it for hours today. We should reconvene and see if anyone’s discovered anything, or at a bare minimum, gather the others and restate the importance of everything at stake. It’s not just my neck on the line, and they may need a reminder of that.”
“Is the blood oath still active?”
Before Caz can even finish asking the question, Renee has the lacey sleeve of her gown peeled back. She rotates her hand to reveal the tender underbelly of her pale wrist. In the very center, drawn in blood using the finest-tipped quills money can buy, is a gemstone.
