Chapter 27
The scream ended abruptly—the vampire gone.
For some moments, no one moved. Then a shout and splashing broke the silence, and another vampire vanished beneath the water.
As Brey and I stumbled back over the sand, my father bellowed, “Kill it. Whatever it is, kill it right now!”
More thrashing. More screaming and shouting.
Brey grabbed my hand and whispered, “The grove.”
We ran into the clearing.
“Stop them.” My father’s voice nipped at our heels. “The rest of you get back to the caves,” he hollered. “Retreat.”
Never had I heard my father yell in such a way—with such force and unmistakable panic. I had no time to savor it, nor to even look back to see if he’d escaped whatever was snatching members of his made army from the lagoon.
We hurtled toward the trees.
Until something caught the back of my tunic. Not something.
Someone.
My hand tore from Brey’s. I stumbled, landing on the grass with a grunt.
Another grunt came from behind me, and as I pushed up to my feet, I found one of my father’s vampires sprawled on the ground.
Vacant orange eyes.
Dead.
Brey pulled his blade from the vampire’s chest. He didn’t sheathe it. His other hand clapped around mine, and again, we took off toward the trees. Agonized screams and shouts chased us. We were less than twenty feet from the grove when a familiar voice almost made me stumble again.
“Ethel.”
Brey didn’t hesitate. He spun, snarling as he flung his blade.
Straight into Maxus’s chest.
The vampire fell to his knees, hands reaching for the hilt.
That was all I saw.
Brey ran so fast, I struggled to keep up and on my feet with his hand clasped tight around mine. It stayed that way even after entering the grove we’d traversed earlier. Even as he skidded to a stop, nearly sent me tumbling to the ground, then backtracked to a cropping of rocks.
A cave.
Hidden behind a thick tree trunk, the slim hollow appeared to lead beneath the first rise in the hillside we’d arrived on. I crawled into the dark behind Brey, then waited when he gestured to do so.
Peering behind me, I tried to listen for anyone approaching. My labored breathing made it hard to hear anything more than distant screams. Chest heaving, I swallowed and slumped onto the dirt at the opening of the cave.
Brey returned. “Appears to be empty.”
“I’d rather hide with what lives in here than meet what’s killing them out there,” I muttered, and crawled over the sandy dirt into near-total darkness until something stopped me.
Brey’s hand against my forehead.
“Far enough,” he said, amusement coating his tone.
I had no desire to make a withering comment about his cat senses. We awkwardly swapped places so that he sat near the opening, and I settled against the wall of dirt and roots beside him.
“How in the darkness did he even know which isle we were visiting?” I asked.
Brey procured another blade from his sleeve, this one needle thin. “He has men everywhere. Even some at sea. They’ve likely kept him informed about which parts of Saltblood Isle are no longer visible.”
Leading my father to believe that this last isle resided near what was visible.
“Maxus.” With trembling hands, I pushed strands of hair from my face. “Do you think he’s dead?”
“I sincerely hope he isn’t.” Brey ended my confusion when he said with lethal quiet, “So I can draw it out and enjoy it next time.”
I fell still.
But some moments later, I admitted, “I think he was trying to warn me.” I crossed my legs. “At the ball, he said he needed to talk to me.”
Brey scoffed.
Ignoring that, I went on, “I thought he just wanted to get me alone again, but he kept looking over at my father…”
Guilt nibbled at my chest in the silence that followed. Then fear. Even with the distance between the lagoon and these woods, as my heartbeat calmed, I expected to hear something more than the persistent hum of insects and our quiet breaths.
I stared up at the roots above our heads. Spiderwebs stretched across them. One web contained a cricket carcass, nothing left but wings and part of its head.
Minutes passed before I asked, “Did you see anything in the lagoon?”
“No,” Brey said. “Whatever it was stayed underwater.”
We had to go back, which meant we would almost certainly find out what had taken those vampires. Regardless of my father’s intentions, if we didn’t feed the ward, then we’d be stuck on this isle. Unless…
“My father came here via sea.” I paused and realized aloud, “He probably brought many boats.” As we might have noticed a ship from land. “Even if he’s gone, many of his men evidently won’t be returning. There’s bound to be some remaining boats. We could just go and leave this last ward unfed.”
“Every other ruler of Saltblood Isle has managed to feed this ward and survive.”
“Well, I don’t wish to be the first to fail.” I huffed. “How mortifying.”
He made an odd noise, as if trying to stop a laugh too late. “If we wait until daylight, we’ll have much better odds. Your father can hassle us if he’s still here, but he won’t have his little legion of made vampires.”
Indeed. If he’d stayed, then those who’d survived would all be hiding from the sun in those caves he’d mentioned.
A little while later, I whispered, “Don’t call him that anymore.”
Aphylus Blueburn lost the right to call himself my father the first time he’d dumped me in a cell deep in the woods. But it was now, after moons of living without his oppressive shadow, that I felt confident in discarding him like a soiled gown.
His mission to usurp us definitely made it easier.
Brey knew exactly who I was talking about. “Aphylus it is.”
His willingness to part with dizzying amounts of his precious gold now made much more sense. Aphylus Blueburn probably believed he’d get most of it back—because he hadn’t merely wanted to put a Blueburn on the empty Saltblood throne.
Brey had no living relatives. We had no heir.
My father had wanted the wards fed before he seized power unlike any he could take or purchase.
As time crept forward with the pace of a snail, I wondered about my mother. My father wouldn’t have killed her, of course. If there was one thing he wanted more than power, it was eternal life. Even so, I imagined she was trapped in her rooms at best—in that cellar at worst.
Eventually, my growing anxiety got the better of me. “She didn’t come,” I murmured. “My mother didn’t come to the ball last night.”
We both knew that Euricia Blueburn was not the type to miss a chance to don a new gown and display her beauty.
Brey didn’t respond for so long, I assumed he wouldn’t. But then he said, “Well, we know that she’s alive.”
“Some things are worse than dying,” I said without thinking.
The question was instant and gritted. “Such as?”
I shook my head and fell quiet.
He didn’t ask me to explain what I meant. He twirled that thin blade between his raised knees as we listened for any sign of someone’s approach while waiting for the night to end.
Maybe it should have been uncomfortable, considering the way he’d fucked me last night. What we’d said to each other afterward. But the only discomfort I felt came from the myriad of thoughts I couldn’t escape.
Soon, all those thoughts grew louder—became an itch I couldn’t scratch beneath my heating skin. My stomach slowly churned as I was forced to acknowledge every single screaming thought and vivid memory. As I was forced to remember just how close we’d come to dying these past weeks.
And how close death still lurked.
A faint noise entered our hiding spot. Distant. A garbled scream or a groan. The cave suddenly seemed far too tight. Too cramped and muggy. The soil-stained air heavied my chest and lungs.
I plucked at my tunic. Crossed and uncrossed my legs.
Never had I needed to consider all of the things I might not do.
Never had I ever worried about all I might not say.
I was immortal. Yet sitting beside my husband in this horrid cave with all of our mistakes and magical moments and deadly encounters, I felt increasingly, hopelessly, and utterly distraught.
Human.
Bile climbed my throat. I slumped against the dirt. “Brey,” I whispered. “Just in case we do fail at feeding this ward, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“That you stole my face lotion two evenings ago?” he asked dryly. “Believe me, I know.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not that.”
Tension crawled through the dark like a warm breeze.
“About our wedding night.” My hands trembled. I clasped them together in my lap. “About Maxus and those rotten things you overheard.”
My name was a sharp warning. “Ethel.”
But I wouldn’t be deterred. Couldn’t be. I needed to say it. It was as if the truth had become lavender, and I had to expel it. So, rushed and without any tact whatsoever, that was exactly what I did. “I stopped fucking Maxus after I kissed you for the first time.”
Brey flinched, boots sliding over the dirt.
“It might have even been before that, actually.” I shook my head. “But as soon as I agreed to spend a week with you, to give you and this marriage a chance, I stopped…” Nerves quietened my voice and had me stumbling over the words. “I stopped seeing anyone but you.”
Wanting to hide the wild beat of my heart, I lifted my legs. I dragged my feet over the dirt and braced my arms on my knees.
Brey’s voice was tight, rasped. “We’re not dying here, Ethel. We don’t need closure.”
I smiled, though I was far from amused. “That’s why I never bothered telling you.
” I rolled a stone beneath my boot. “Not only was I too crushed by what you said to me that night, then because of what you did afterward, but I knew what you’d overheard was bad.
So bad that…” Just remembering made me cringe.
“Well, I wouldn’t believe that I’d lied to Maxus to mollify him either. ”
Brey didn’t respond.
I didn’t feel inclined to say anything more. Confessing might have calmed my mind, but it only widened the fissures in my heart. I couldn’t blame him for not believing me. Couldn’t blame him for failing to even question me.