The double doors at the back of the mansion opened and the acolyte shuffled us inside. Lukain stopped our group briefly,eyes trained on the three fighters: me, Kemini, Rirth. “You will not enjoy this next part, grimmers. It’s all part of the façade. It won’t be anything you’re unaccustomed to.”
With that vague warning, we followed the acolyte in, down a sloping hall. Torches in stylish glass lanterns lit the walls. The corridor was wide, unlike the narrow passages I was used to in buildings of Nuhav. Red and purple rugs, tastefully decorated, led us down the hall.
The acolyte turned into a room, motioning us in with a swept hand. I paused, hearing a thudding from above. I noticed we were partly underground having come through the back entrance. The sounds above were feet.
I stiffened at seeing the room. It was much less refined than the halls we’d walked through to get here. Rough walls of gray stone encircled the dark space. Barred jail cells occupied the area, at least ten cells in all. A few of the cells were inhabited by shadowy people I couldn’t recognize as we walked past. A trickle of light came in overhead and I glanced up to see lanterns from the story above creeping in through slatted flooring.
The acolyte led us to three empty cages, motioning us to enter. I took one look at Lukain, my eyes alight with alarm.
“This is your waiting room,” Lukain said. “Soon, you will test your mettle for the benefit of the Olhavians.”
Rirth, Kemini, and I took separate cells. The acolyte locked us in. Then the robed mute led the girls and Lukain away.
It was aggravating being able to see what we couldn’t touch. While merriment played out overhead through the slats of the hidden floor, we were left in the darkness below, in a stinking prison room.
When I thought about it, our lower-level prison was a microcosm of the Nuhav-Olhav contrast.
Before leaving the room, Lukain looked over his shoulder. “I must bring the ladies to the surface so they can interact with Lord Ashfen’s guests. You will be gathered soon. Be ready.”
As the festivities played out above us over a span of hours, I paced my small cell, feeling helpless. A growing frustration swelled inside me, threatening to steal away my focus from the bout at hand.
“Walking in circles will do nothing but drive you mad,” said a smooth voice from the cell across from me.
I walked to the bars of my cage and peered out with squinted eyes. A tall man stood near the bars of his cell, a crooked smile on his face. His hair was completely shaven, face attractive and smooth, with beady red eyes.
When he tilted his head expectantly, I inhaled sharply. “It’s . . . you. The dhampir from the alley.”
From the cell to my left, Rirth said, “You know this half-breed, Seph?”
“Garroway Kuffich,” the man replied, inclining his chin. “Wondered if I’d ever see you again, alley girl.”
The memory of this half-vampire, the first I’d ever met in person, rolled through me. The way we’d shared a dark alley in hiding—me from the House of the Broken, him from whatever threatened him. The cloak he wore, which he blanketed me with when I fell asleep.
The next morning, Baylen and the Diplomats had arrived to take me to the next chapter of my young life, and Garroway had vanished. Lukain had also used Garroway’s name in the past, as the recipient of Peltos for feeding.
“I do,” I said to Rirth, crossing my arms. Now I had another suspicion. “Tell me, Garroway Kuffich. Did you do it?”
This monster had an easier countenance than, say, Lukain. The gifted cloak-blanket made me believe he retained more of his humanity than my master, even in his half-vampiric state. Yet I couldn’t get the image of poor Layson out of my mind—being dragged into shadows, never seen again, to be feasted upon. And there was the fact I’d seen this man on our desperate vampire-hunting excursion hours later . . . yet had not alerted his presence to Dimmon Plank.
Garroway understood my question immediately. His face fell, that wispy smile twisting into a frown. “I . . . did. Not through any will of my own, mind you. My master needed sustenance, and I provided.”
My jaw clenched. “So you are nothing more than a thrall, actions dictated by your superior.”
He chuckled lightly. “Don’t be mistaken, alley girl. We are all thralls to someone else, half-blood or otherwise. I am no different than your master.”
But I thought youweredifferent.“I could have given you up.”
“To the hellbent gang of feral children on their bloodthirsty hunt? Yes. Why didn’t you?”
“I felt I owed you a kindness.”
“You owe me nothing, alley—”
“It’s Sephania.” My voice came out harsh. “I’m not a guttergirl living in an alley anymore.”
Rirth said, “If anything, she’s more of a ‘dungeon girl’ these days.”
To my right, Kemini grunted a laugh in the other stall. It was rare for the oak-sized man to say anything, much less laugh.
