Myrddin shot Yanna a stern look. “It usually takes much,muchlonger for a vampire to turn into a Strigoi. There’s no set rule, though it’s usually weeks. Months, even. And by then, the vampire has descended into such a frightening state—into something so depraved and unjust in its ways—that whomever is keeping the thrall from it will often return it to them. And the thrall will make no easy captive, either.” Myrddin’s eyes darkened. “Most of the time, if they’re not closely monitored, it is the mortal thrall who won’t survive the separation. It’s almost never the thrall holdingitselffrom their regnant,” he added, regarding Lilac knowingly. “That, I know, is unheard of.”
“In that way,” Lilac said slowly, processing it all, “it sounds like Strigoi are often created.”
“You’d be correct in your astute assumption. Strigoi are rare extremely rare. I don’t know if there’s ever been a recorded sighting in all of Brittany. Or even your neighboring France.” He stifled a incredulous laugh. “They’re commonly seen in the countries where the vampire governs feely, alongside or maybe even over the human populace. There are such communities across every continent, as I’ve witnessed in my travels. In the eastern, mostly Romanian sect, the Strigoi serve among Sanguine elites as guards or court to the Doyen. There, they reside in remote castles or manors overlooking their villages. They’re created, then kept in a perpetual state of hunger during times of war or anticipated battle, their thralls held from them in iron and blessed hawthorn cages until they’ve carried out their purpose or task.”
“Then what happens?” Yanna asked, picking her nail beds raw.
“Then, the Strigoi is rewarded with their thrall. I would not call this specific reconciliation a reward for the thrall, though,” said Myrddin, grimacing. “It is often a very violent reunion. When the vampire in question is needed for duty once more, their thrall is stripped from them again. Then, the process begins all over.”
Lilac’s stomach was in knots. She thought about the passage in the vampire manuscript she and Piper had read. “Is the Doyen a clan leader?”
“Yes. Garin is the Doyen of the Brocéliande vampire coven after Laurent, although I’m not sure Laurent ever applied the same terminologies.Garin certainly does not. He was very informal in his ways, more focused on the family he created. Great leader, he was, for someone so young and inexperience. Garin’s transformation into a strigoi was likely accelerated by his intense hunger for you, made worse by drinking Yanna’s blood. That’s not even counting whatever ails him that prevents those injuries from healing.”
Lilac eyed Garin’s gaping arm and thigh, the pant leg soaked through in water and blood. Not even the magic of his strigoi transformation had healed him. “Is this permanent?” she asked under her breath.
Myrddin did not answer right away. He pursed his lips, then blew a breath out. “Some say Sanguine magic is a branch of underdeveloped arcana on its own. Some say it is an adjunct form of Necromancy. I think it can stand to be studied more, which is what I’d been pushing for at the Ambleside Sanctum when I decided to flee with the amulet I’d given Bastion. Either way, much like Necromancy, it is a volatile, poorly understood type of magic. No,” he finally replied. “He should revert to his humanoid form after he’s had you.”
“Hadher? Are you joking?” blurted Yanna. “He’ll kill her.”
Myrddin’s shrug was slow and apologetic. “She’ll have to sate him one way or another, Mademoiselle Galvan. It can be done carefully. They’ve done it before. The queen is stronger than she knows.”
Lilac’s ears began to ring. Yanna and Myrddin’s arguing should’ve sobered her, cleared her mind enough to push against the raging urge to serve him.
All she could think about was his fangs teasing the crease of her inner thigh.
Garin sat up, panting through every tender movement as he staggered gingerly to his feet. “You prick,” he rasped, wiping the filth from his lips. “What did you do to me?”
“It’s temporary. And you did it to yourself,” said Myrddin, matter-of-factly. “This is what you get for drinking from an incubus-born warlock. My blood is meant to render any attackers or potential devourers useless.”
Lilac much disliked the way Garin’s hands trembled. “What’s wrong with him? Besides the obvious.”
“His gifts of speed and strength remain encumbered, but for how long varies.He was already weakened. Drinking my blood just made him easier to handle.”
Garin bared his teeth and made to charge Myrddin, but cried out instead, stumbling forward. “Argh, my leg!”
Lilac broke free of Yanna’s grip just as she released her, and before she knew it, she was striding toward him—sheneededto help him if no one else would. Myrddin’s shout preceded a flash of white-violet that blinded her, a blast of heat singing her front.
Ears ringing, her world went dark.
She thoughtshe might’ve fainted. Maybe she had. All was quiet—but as quickly as the silence came, she could hear rushed conversations and shouting around her, felt the slowly returning ache of her joints as she was jostled about.
The faint susurrations grew louder. Her hands lowered instinctively and grasped at the earth at her sides, steadying herself.
“Easy now,” Myrddin said, nearing. “Let her sit, regain her bearings.”
“You were the one who nearly blew her up,” Yanna snarled from above her. “I wouldn’t have let her go if not for thatlunatic. I am of the queen’s court, not a vampire’s snack!”
“It was required for him to turn.” Myrddin was hovering over them, slipping an arm under Lilac’s. Together, they helped her to her feet. “We’ll have Minerva get you a bandage and you’ll be back to your courtly duties in no time.”
“What about Gwendal?” Yanna asked, pressing her skirts to the other side of her neck.
“He will awaken. This one was instant because I brought him back to life. My unique contribution in Necromancy—tugging souls back from the precipice of the void, and replacing them with another. I’ve only performed it once before, for one of the Old Kings. The recently expired soul of a first-degree relation is required to bring the dead back.”
Lilac blinked the remnants of light away to see a large blackened circle of earth mere feet away.
There was a new voice giving stern orders. “Bestill. This is for Lilac’s safety.”
Rupert was awake. Garin’s back was pressed to him, head locked in the new vampire’s grasp. Rupert’s opposite arm held Garin’s hands behind his back. He was entirely helpless, swinging his leg back to meet Rupert’s shins. But he was a fledgling—unimpeded, unlike Garin was. He was stronger, faster with Myrddin’s blood still in Garin’s veins. The blows that would’ve otherwise broken Rupert’s kneecaps did hardly anything at all.
