24. Bane
Chapter 24
Bane
T here were many times when Wyn’s inexorable need to be in control of all things gave me a slight headache. No, that was a lie—a pounding headache, though I loved and appreciated her as the fine aunt and advisor she was.
“You, you, and you—” she snapped, pointing to three unfortunate maids. “Have the upper levels of the Tower of Summer made up for a Lord in residence immediately. No, don’t worry about the Silent Brother. He’ll stay in his current accommodations.”
I found the steward, instructing him to bring a message to Brother Glyn that he would soon be surrounded by vampires. It was unlikely that he would care—no Silent Brother old enough to have served in the war would be uncomfortable with our kind; we’d slept, eaten, and fought beside each other for ten years. Auré was already there, settling her retinue into their assigned quarters.
With that small duty done, I returned my attention to settling Wyn before she completely melted down, happily keeping Cirri clasped to my side.
Is he like you? she asked, looking up at me sidelong. I appreciated that she moved slower now, pausing when I was clearly puzzled over a word.
“In a manner of speaking. As ugly as I am? Absolutely. As sweet-natured and lovable?” I waved a hand, smiling a little. “Not in the slightest.”
She nodded, but for once she didn’t respond to my jokes in kind; there was a slight crease between her brows, a worried look in those green eyes. She held my arm tighter than usual.
Perhaps she was concerned about another fiend in residence. Ancestors knew it couldn’t be comfortable for a human still learning our ways.
“He wouldn’t dream of harming you,” I told her. “There’s no need to fear him. Wroth has always loved women and children. His mutation hasn’t changed that.”
She smiled at me, but it was a distracted smile, an uneasy one. I couldn’t be afraid of any brother of yours , she said, but the movements of her hands were lacking in her usual confidence; she almost seemed to be trying to shrink in on herself.
Now I felt my own worry arise; what bothered my Cirri, my rose, the lady of my heart?
The question was on my lips and remained unvoiced. One of the human scouts reported to Visca at a run, tracking dirt over the scarlet rugs, and Wyn stared at the tracks with the full fury of a bloodwitch about to explode.
Visca’s lips stretched wide in a gritted-teeth grin. “Here he comes. Why don’t you go greet your brother, Bane? We’ve got things well in hand here.” She tipped her head towards Wyn, the silent message loud and clear: I can’t leave my wife or she will reduce the inhabitants of this castle to puddles of gore.
“Trust me, you’ll like him,” I told Cirri, leading my own wife from the chaos of the ballroom.
Her shoulders relaxed as we left the madness. Perhaps it was just Wyn’s overbearing manner that was bothering her; she’d spent several hours in the bloodwitch’s grasp, being taught the basic rudiments of how to behave with nobility in residence, of what Bloodrain entailed for us.
“I apologize for Wyn.” Her silence was beginning to worry me now. “She makes things happen, but it comes at the cost of our peace of mind.”
Cirri smiled again, an edge to the expression. Believe me, I’ve learned that peace of mind is not her forte.
I flexed a hand over her waist, cautious of my claws and the fine cloth she wore. “Is she telling you tales of fiends? Be assured, none of the vampires here will touch you. It is completely forbidden. All of them know this and none will break that decree.”
My wife shook her head as we stepped into the outer courtyard, where the paving stones had been scrubbed clean of lichen. I’m sure it’ll be fine , she said. I’m fine, Bane, really.
I didn’t believe her in the slightest, but perhaps meeting Wroth in person would help alleviate her worries.
“Open the gate,” I called up to the wall guard. Cirri was with me, and there was no greater protection against wargs; she had yet to step foot on wild Rift soil outside the keep.
“Come with me.” I took her hand, holding it gently, and led her outside the thick walls and off the road, into the forest proper, lifting my nose to breathe.
It was the clean scent of pine and mist that I loved, the faint mineral tang of the mines to the north. I breathed in deeply, tasting a hint of salt and leather: Wroth, approaching from upwind, letting me know of his presence.
Cirri craned her head to look up at the tall trees, walking over a carpet of moss and dry needles. It’s so much more peaceful out here.
“Yes. Sometimes I love the hunt, not for its own sake, but to just be outside, away from it all.” I took another deep breath, clearing my head. “Sometimes the keep is too much.”
She was loose and relaxed again, a forest sprite with that red hair, walking between bars of golden light. Yes. It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve really been outside. I didn’t realize how…
My wife trailed off, fisting her hands.
“How?” I prompted, curious as to her thoughts. Cirri’s cheeks reddened, her jaw tightening as she took several more steps into the forest.
She finally turned, that line between her brows back in place, but instead of signing she pulled her journal from her bag and quickly wrote. How trapped I felt. Please don’t be angry, or think that I’m complaining. Sometimes the walls feel like a giant cage. In Argent I could at least walk the city on my days off, and visit the parks. I would walk and think. Here, there are walls and guards around me everywhere I go. I don’t mean this as criticism towards you; I understand why. I just missed it—the quiet, the open space.
“How could I be angry to hear that?” I asked her softly, stepping towards her with my arms open. She came to me, resting her head on my chest. “I feel the same.” I stroked her hair, letting my fingers trail over the smooth nape of her neck, where the bruise had faded to an ugly yellowish green. “One day, all the wargs will be dead, and you will be free to leave the keep whenever you wish. All the Rift will be yours to walk.”
Only if you’re walking with me , she said, and my chest ached at the thought of it; Cirri and I, for all eternity, walking together. No part of the forest untouched by our feet, complete freedom to go wherever we chose.
But… I still could not fathom trapping her forever. Not in the walls of the keep, and not with eternal life, to be forever tied to me, a thing of blood and darkness.
“I’ll walk with you for as long as you desire.” I pressed my lips to her hair, tasting her scent, my thirst sated by the sweet blood she’d gifted to me.
I finally released her, letting her have this time in the forest to clear her mind, vowing to take her outside more often. She was a human who needed sun and fresh air, not a bird to be kept in a pretty cage.
As she strolled the clearing, touching trees and getting sap on her hands, crunching needles underfoot, I kept watch; tasting the air, untainted by wargs, idly planning where to take Cirri when the wolves were gone. There were places in the Rift that were untouched by people, places of beauty that she’d love to see…
Her soft gasp pulled me from the reverie. Cirri stood at the far edge of the clearing, frozen in place with her back to me. Her hands moved jerkily: Hello?
There was an enormous, pale splotch in the trees, half-hidden by sprays of pine. It moved, the scent of salt and leather filling my nose.
The fiend stepped into the clearing, ice blue eyes fixed on my wife, his pupils dilated to the thinness of a thread.
“Wroth. Brother.” The relief that swamped me at the sight of one of my fellows, my brothers in blood and war, was unexpected. It had been ten long years since any of us had really seen each other, ten years since we’d signed our lives away for the Blood Accords, all standing together and knowing that from that moment on, we would never be the same. Ten years since I’d convinced them to become fiends alongside me.
And none of us had looked to the future; we had seen only the glory of war, the pride of taking thrones.
I still remembered Wroth at that table like it was yesterday, a powerful vampire with the stamp of the far north all over him, bones braided into his long white hair, blue eyes flashing as he roared with delight at the legions of wargs to come.
Before he became this.
His upper lip was split into a true muzzle to show his fangs, ears more rounded than mine. He was still frost and snow, with a thick mane of white hair streaming down his spine, and a short, velvety coating of white fur over pale skin.
My muscles tensed as he gazed at Cirri, giving no sign he had heard me. I studied him, relief becoming alarm.
There was no sign of the Wroth I knew in this fiend, his eyes blazing with bitterness and hate, his lips curled up to display sharp teeth.
But Cirri trusted me, she trusted my word: she stood her ground, gazing up at him, already raising her hands to speak.
I moved without thinking, leaping the distance of the clearing and almost knocking her over when I landed. I rose to my full height, baring my fangs at the fiend. Dread, unease rippling in my veins, bringing on the fuller form of the transformation; my skin burned as my body began to build its organic armor, my fangs lengthening, shoulder blades itching as wings tried to grow.
“Wroth!” I grabbed Cirri, shoving her behind me. I heard her intake of breath, heard the rip of fabric, but gave it no thought.
Until the soft, sweet scent of blood filled the air. Wroth’s nostrils flared, his back straightening. A powerful tail, tipped with long, silky white fur, lashed behind him.
“If you touch her, brother, I will end you without regret.” My voice was below a growl, nothing but the guttural rumble of a fiend’s speech.
Wroth’s eyes finally slid to me, and the hostility in his smile… I couldn’t lie. It hurt that a fiend as close as my own kin, my own blood-brother, would feel such hate.
“Would you?” he asked, his voice as rough and mangled as my own. “How can you have no regrets, Bane? I can save you from hell.”
I stared at him, torn between seeing the damage I’d done to Cirri with my own cursed hands, and protecting her from a mad fiend. Ancestors, if I’d let her walk any further on her own, trusting in my own blind preconceptions about my brother…
This was not the Wroth I knew.
“This is no hell,” I said, feeling a soft touch on my shoulder. “Who are you? What has happened to you?”
He snarled, the sound silencing the few birds who had dared venture near. “I am your brother , and the damned Accords happened! I don’t wish my pain on you, Bane—let us end it now, for your sake.”
It was surreal, a dream world that made no sense, and as the mind of a fiend drifted over my uppermost thoughts, I welcomed it—I didn’t want to be of a sane, conscious mind when I did what I’d have to do.
I didn’t want to remember destroying a vampire I’d once trusted with my life.
But the soft touch on my shoulder grew stronger—Cirri patted me, sidling past my outstretched arm.
Bane, don’t do this , she said, signing with bloodied fingers. I sucked in a breath at the sight of that bright, wet redness. He’s your brother. You’ll regret it forever if you do. Whatever happened to him, he needs your help, not your anger.
I exhaled, staring at her hands, trying to release my rage. “He would kill you, my lady.”
No , she said, eyes bright with desperation and pain. He’s hurting. Can’t you see it?
I couldn’t stand her being so close to him, only an arm’s length away from fatal harm—I reached for her, taking her in my arms once more, and found where I’d slashed her with my claws. Her upper arm was damp with fresh blood, a scent that made my mouth water, but she didn’t pull away.
It’s shallow , she signed. No more than a scratch.
Wroth recoiled at the sight of my human bride nestled against me, his claws flexing uncertainly at his sides.
What was it about her that brought his blood up? Why her ?
I slowed my racing heart, made a decision.
“If you touch Cirri, I will destroy you, brother or not.” I met his pale blue eyes, his bitterness giving way to furious confusion as he looked between me and my wife. “Don’t force my hand.”
To my surprise, he laughed, a harsh sound. He shook his hands out, the hostility fading, replaced by bewilderment and a cynical expression. “So I was wrong? We’ll see. Time will prove me right, brother.”
“I have no idea what you speak of,” I growled, clutching Cirri closer—she was trembling slightly.
“She will make your life a living misery.” Wroth snarled the words, stepping forward so he was nearly spitting them in her face. “You will beg the ancestors for this moment again, so I can end it before it begins!”
My teeth ached; I carefully maneuvered Cirri aside. That was enough.
I would hate myself forever, but I would not allow a fiend to live who threatened her, brother or not.
But Cirri refused to be moved. She planted her feet, like she was one of the pines who had been here for a hundred years or more, and looked Wroth right in the eye.
If I’m making his life a misery, that’s between Bane and myself , she told him. As for you—you can either move out of my face and behave like a civilized person, or my husband will kill you. I would prefer the first option, if only because I don’t want to see him suffer for your delusions. Make your choice: act right, or sit outside all night like a spanked dog. It’s all the same to me.
Wroth’s lip twitched, revealing the glimmer of teeth. “What did she say?”
“She told you to stop acting like a toothless infant deprived of a tit.” I was gratified by the astonishment in his eyes as he peered at her again. “So what will it be? You’re always welcome, Wroth—but not if you treat my wife like this in her own home. If I can’t trust you, you have no place here.”
The fiend took a step back, pacing over the needles Cirri had trod moments before. She stroked my arm as Wroth thought it over, shooting her the occasional opaque glance.
Clearly he’s had troubles of his own , she told me, keeping one eye on him. He’s expecting these same troubles from me. And if he’s willing to kill me… well, it must be pretty bad. I’d hear him out, Bane.
“You’re very forgiving, for a woman who was about to be gutted,” I murmured against her ear.
She looked up at me, and cupped my cheek briefly. I feel as if I’ve known you my whole life , she said. I feel fortunate every day that I wake up, knowing I will see you.
“I feel the same.”
Cirri glanced at Wroth, who was muttering to himself.
He doesn’t. I would watch his wife , she said wisely. She might never have overcome her fear of him.
“Wroth.”
The fiend stopped pacing, throwing me a black look. “What.”
“Is… is your wife coming?” He’d sent out the news five years ago when he’d married her, and I’d forgotten her name already.
“Kajarin?” he sneered. “Of course. Ancestors forbid the Lord and Lady of the Rivers be separated. She’s in the carriage, an hour behind me.”
Cirri squeezed my arm, brief but tight, and all at once I understood a little of Wroth’s pain. It was… exactly what I’d feared for myself. A woman who thought me hideous, who hated all I was, a woman who would rather live locked away in poppy dreams.
And all at once, my anger faded, the embers becoming cold ash. “There are still wargs,” I said quietly. “Do you wish us to send reinforcements to guard her?”
Wroth stared at me defiantly, his silent answer shocking but clear.
Come inside , my wife told him. She offered a hand to the fiend, beckoning him, and he gazed at her mistrustfully. Come with us. You’re with your brother now.
That night found us in the dining hall, that great empty expanse that Cirri had hated, but it was the only place to fit us all.
The long table had been covered with dark silk, elaborate iron candelabras filling the cold room with warm light. For the humans, dinner was served in courses; Cirri sat to my right, her arm healed and bandaged by Wyn, picking at a tiny roasted hen. Shallow as the scratches were, I couldn’t shove the guilt aside. I needed to remember how fragile she was; even if her life was in danger, I was just as much of a threat in a moment of carelessness.
But her lack of appetite was not because of the wound. Wroth sat opposite me, his anger now constrained into a bitter silence as he sipped from a goblet; Yuli was old enough to volunteer her blood, and had bled into it for him. There would be no convict blood for honored guests.
Kajarin lai Orros, Lady of the Rivers, sat to his left, directly across from Cirri. I didn’t know what to make of her.
I had expected a timid mouse, shrinking away at the sight of vampires. Perhaps a woman with dull, glazed eyes and a dinner of poppy syrup. A nervous wreck, one to stretch the bounds of any fiends’ patience.
But she was aware, no scent or sign of poppy in her veins. She could have been pretty, I supposed, with those strawberry blonde curls and big blue eyes. The coloring of a pureblood Veladari, denoting half her worth to the Blood Accords.
But she was… gaudy. Her corset had been laced tight, pushing her breasts up to a comical height. The dress itself was bright pink Serissan silk, a fortune in fabric and dye—to say nothing of the chains of diamonds woven in her hair, dripping from her ears, draped over the ludicrous mountains of cleavage, and glittering on her fingers.
Cirri seemed equally nonplussed by Wroth’s wife; her eyes had nearly bugged out of her skull when she first laid eyes on the woman, fighting her way free from the carriage in a spume of silk and lace.
Kajarin had greeted her buoyantly, every movement exaggerated with cheerful, bubbly motions; she’d gripped my wife’s shoulders, kissed her on both cheeks, and exclaimed over everything she saw.
As she was exclaiming now over the roasted hens, while Cirri watched her sidelong.
So… what was the problem? An over-the-top personality was no reason to want her dead. She had been showered in bride gifts, the diamonds alone putting my small gifts for Cirri to shame.
Wroth’s gaze was fixed somewhere over my shoulder, eyes unseeing as he took another draught. Auré, sitting on his other side, had forgone a donor; she toyed with a glass of bloodwine, her mouth set in a thin line.
Altogether, it was an awkward dinner. I wished I could make my excuses and take Cirri to the library, to curl up together in our peaceful little bubble of happiness and jokes, where my wife might actually eat something.
I watched from the corner of my eye as Cirri took a small bite, pleased that she hadn’t simply pushed it to the side.
“Your courtesy is so appreciated, Lord Bane,” Kajarin said, drawing my attention to her. She leaned forward, looking at me from under her lashes. “This castle is absolutely lovely. Owlhorn is so drafty and cold, it’s impossible to feel warm there.”
Wroth lapped at his goblet and muttered, “Not for you, it isn’t.”
Kajarin continued like she didn’t hear him. “I’d love a private tour of the grounds, if you have the time?” Her lips were rouged, and she pouted them at me, eyes glittering. Somehow, between the rouge and the grease of the food, I was reminded of a mouth smeared with gore. “You could tell me of the battles here! I’ve heard you were the most vicious fiend of all—the Skinner of Wolves, and all. Is it true that becoming a fiend was your idea?”
“Wyn will take you on a tour, Lady Kajarin,” I said, discomposed by the mental image of Kajarin, dripping diamonds, with her face plunged into an open wound. “She knows far more about the history of the Rift and its grounds than I do.”
My bloodwitch, on Kajarin’s left, smiled at me politely and eyed a butter knife.
Kajarin let out a small laugh, pressing a hand to her bosom. “Why, that’s so kind of you, but as you yourself have been through so many campaigns, I’d like to hear all the gory details from the man himself. You must have been so brave. There’s something so manly, so virile , about being up close to a warg yourself and taking its head off with your bare hands.” She sighed, almost a parody of a sexual sound. “I’m available any time, day or night. Just let me know and I’m all yours.”
I caught Wroth, catching his eye for a fraction of a second, just enough time to silently ask: what the hell?
My brother remained stone-faced, but I heard the distinct sound of claws digging into the arm of a chair.
I shifted uncomfortably as Auré’s eyes glittered, a dangerous tilt to her head. The vampire, who had served as an ambassador and messenger both on the battlefield, and after we’d taken our thrones, looked angry enough to bite.
“Lady Olwyn can manage it, Kajarin,” she said, and while Auré never snapped, she was close to it now. “Their time is important—entertaining you is the least of their concerns.”
Kajarin fingered an earring, a diamond the size of a robin’s egg, and that grotesque pout returned. “I merely thought the Lord of the Rift might be willing to extend his hospitality to a sister-in-law. I’ve been yearning to meet him for years.”
Cirri suddenly smiled, and signed to Kajarin, her movements more boisterous than I’d ever seen them. She looked friendly, from her smile to her broad motions, but her words…
His hospitality doesn’t include ending up in your bed. Perhaps you should kindly fuck off back to the Rivers, and give your husband a moment of peace from your mind games.
I was astonished to silence for a moment. My wife had said fuck , in polite conversation, at dinner. Ancestors, I wanted to kiss her.
And secondly, she made the problem entirely clear. I was so revolted by Kajarin that I hadn’t realized… that she was flirting. Trying to take another man to bed… in front of her husband.
Wroth said nothing, his jaw tight.
Cirri ended her thoughts with a wide, sweeping movement, not just knocking over, but sending a glass of wine flying— straight into Kajarin’s face. The woman cried out as the wine stung her eyes, dripping over her cleavage and staining the expensive pink silk, beading on her diamonds.
My wife made expansive gestures of apology, offering a napkin and doing a rather flawless impression of embarrassment and dismay. The Lady of the Rivers waved her away, gasping and wiping wine from her face, but the dress was a loss.
Kajarin stood up, wiping her eyes so that kohl stained them in a raccoon’s mask. “Please—please excuse me,” she stammered, and she rushed from the room.
A painful silence fell, no one wanting to meet anyone else’s gaze. Cirri sat down slowly, smoothing her dress over her lap before taking my hand under the table. She was shaking with rage.
Wroth drank the last of the blood, dropping his goblet.
“And now you see,” he said, his voice utterly flat and dead.