“Somehow I doubt it.”
Her frown flips and the chronicler gives me a small nod. “I made sure not to allow him to despoil you with that hefty thing between his legs. My kindness counts for something, no?”
“Small victories, I suppose.”
Kleora chuckles. “Yes, I save the best for myself.”
“Vampires are nothing if not a lusty people.”
Her smile widens, genuinely, and her crimson eyes sparkle. “Had I known how despoiled you already were before arriving here, I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered as much if he had his way with you.”
It takes every ounce of my resolve not to snap back—to tamp down the rage that quickly surfaces. Clenching my mouth shut, I flex and say nothing.
Evidently oblivious to her cutting insult, Kleora lifts her quill and dips it in the inkwell. She shuffles a few pages of parchment, setting down the recent scrawlings on the floor in the sizable stack she’s already written.
“More wine?” she asks.
I incline my chin. “If I haven’t drunk you out of house and home. Why not?”
“Oh, I keep the stores of Sutlis Spire well-stocked for occasions such as these.”
“Is it often you have esteemed guests in your jailhouse worth questioning, Madame Kleora?”
She lets out a little huff of annoyance. “None quite as esteemed as you, child. The Loreblood is a rarity and novelty to us all.”
“I’m sure you would like to hear more about it.”
“It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” She lifts the empty bottle between us and wags it in the air. “If you please, Bregsitch?”
“Mistress,” he says and turns to the door.
“Oh, before you go”—the lumbering vampire pauses at Kleora’s order—“I have a small mission for you. With the fewremaining hours Lady Lock has in this world, please locate the groups she has mentioned in this chronicle and find out what you can of this Jinneth woman. Then perhaps the three of us can drink our goblets together and reminisce on old times.”
With a start, I lean forward. “Why?”
Bregsitch glances over at the dead body of Taclo, bloodless and slumped against the wall with his eyes unnervingly open. “Want the same result for her as this one, mistress?”
“When you find Lady Jinneth, bring her here. I will question her before making a decision. If we’re lucky, she might get to say a final farewell to her friend Sephy before Lady Lock meets her end. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Bregsitch grunts and leaves the room, closing and locking the door behind him.
I ask again, “Why do you wish to know more about Jinneth?”
Once we’re alone, Kleora faces me with another happy smile. On any other woman, it might look beautiful. On her, it’s terrifying.
“A more complete chronicle.” She pats the stack of parchment next to her. “Lady Jinneth appears in many significant moments of your illustrious life. The Diplomats, the Grimsons, Manor Marquin, and now the Chained Sisters. I know the names of Skartovius Ashfen, Vallan Stellos, and Garroway Kuffich well. Yet your human co-conspirator Jinneth is a mystery to me. I don’t like mysteries. Not when I’m trying to write an accurate saga.”
Under the edge of the desk, I clench my hands into fists. “Will you kill her?”
“First we must find her.” Her smile widens. “I don’t believe that will prove difficult, even if she’s holed away in Nuhav again. Bregsitch has a way about him. He’s excellent at gathering information, given his qualities.”
Yes, his barbaric disposition and undying loyalty to his Mistress.I look at Taclo’s corpse.He’s already made his mark on the Diplomats.A brief surge of fear runs up my spine as I wonder how much chaos and damage he will sow snooping around the Chained Sisters and Grimsons.
Does he even know where the Sisters are? With their nondescript Hall tucked away from prying eyes, I thought they were living in the shadows of Olhav in secrecy.Then again, with Madame Kleora having a connection with the Mistress of Webs, Alacine Mortis, anything is possible. I’m sure they have spies everywhere in the twin cities.
Kleora gently sets a fresh page in front of her and looks up at me. “Now then, Overseer Verant will be here before dawn.” She glances at the circular window to her right and my left, where the damned moth is still annoyingly beating up against the glass. The soft, incessant sound is starting to drive me mad.
Beyond that, the blackness of night has turned into a vivid, cloudless purple outside. Stars twinkle in their millions, with a sea of rooftops and spires sweeping out below our ten stories, all across the Olhavian Peaks.
