I imagined Vallan’s silence was a typical response when bringing up something he didn’t want to talk about. Garroway was chatty, Skartovius was refined and egotistical, and Vallan was quiet and stoic.
These three vampires—half of one if you included Garroway—were quite different from one another, which interested me. The stories and legends of the Olhavians from the Floorboards had always painted a stark, uniform version of the bloodsuckers: twisted, evil, bloodthirsty.
While I surmised those qualities were true about these three, they also hadpersonalities. Recognizing that made me see them in a new light. I wasn’t yet sure if the light was a welcome one or a lie.
“She had a blood illness,” Vallan said in his gruff tone.
I blinked and gave Garroway a sidelong glance. He pouted in response, shrugging.
“Come again?” I said.
“Ethera. She did not sacrifice herself for no reason or to simply further our cause. She had an ulterior motive, just like everyone does.”
My brow furrowed and I quickened my pace to get alongside him. “What do you mean a blood ill—”
“She had months to live. Cordea singled her out and chose her for that express reason. Struck a bargain with her, which Ethera agreed to, knowing her lover would benefit.”
“. . . By being turned into a vampire.”
He looked down at me, eyes narrowed dangerously on his flat, handsome face. “To many, it is not the curse you make it sound like. To many, it is a blessing. A gift.”
“True,” Garroway muttered from behind us.
“DoesZefyraknow that? Believe that?”
“Suppose we’ll find out.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. With my forearm, I wiped sweat from my brow. The uphill journey back was starting to make my thighs ache and burn.
Vallan’s explanation was another surprise. He owed me nothing.So why say all that?I reeled at the next logical thought.Does he feel remorse?Canvampires feel remorse? Or did he only tell me this hoping I wouldn’t hate him as much?
Flaring my nostrils, I said, “Do you expect that to absolve you of Ethera’s murder? For me to thank or forgive you, Vallan?”
His stride slowed and then stopped completely. The hulking vampire rounded on me, fangs gleaming in the moonlight as he bared them with an angry visage. “I expect nothing of you, silverblood. I simply see how it bruises your conscience. Understand, woman, I don’t have one of those.” He drew closer, ridiculously tall and imposing, forcing me back a stepon the road. “Garroway might enjoy your presence and banter, Skartovius may find you a novelty, but I feel you are a burden to our cause. You will only get in the way.”
My mouth opened to retort. I had nothing. Vallan turned again and continued walking on. I gaped after him.Guess that answers my question about a bloodsucker feeling anything “human” like guilt or remorse.
Vallan’s spiel did not offend me, though I knew that was its intent. I gleaned some important information from it.Their “cause.” I must know what it is. The big brute won’t tell me.My gaze swept over to Garroway.Maybe he will once I have him alone.
“I didn’t ask to be here,” I said defiantly, hurrying to keep up with Vallan as he reached the top of the pass.
“You haven’t left, either, though the choice has been given to you.”
“Do you want me to leave, Vallan? Given what you know about me and my, uh, Loreblood?” It was another foolish question. I wanted to get a better read on this violent man.
“Skar wants you to stay. I will not go against my brethren. We might still find use for you. So far, all you’ve proven is that you like to talk.”
Frustration swelled inside me. I bunched my hands into fists, ready to push him again as my fingernails made divots in my palms. My nails had grown since leaving the Grimsons—I had no reason to keep them short for shadowgalas now. “Find use for me?” I echoed. “Lord Ashfen said he will not jeopardize my agency.”
Vallan paused with a huff of annoyance. This time, his expression was placid, emotionless, which was arguably more frightening. “Skar says he will not use you. I’ve said no such thing.Iwill use you if you’re worth using.”
He stalked off, leaving me holding my breath with my heart hammering.
We were reaching the outskirts of the northern section of Olhav, dipping down into the crater on the summit where the golden city sat.
I mulled over Vallan’s threat for the rest of the journey to the safehouse, and I came to a conclusion: Nuhav had only ever brought me grief and heartache. It was dead to me and I had no one there with Lukain’s death.
Thisis my life now. My place. My newest shiny prison. Perhaps it’s where I need to be in order to exact actual change, if my blood is really as special as Skartovius says it is.
