Chapter 3
Esiree
Perhaps my brother had been right to warn me; I was in no state for the grueling trek to Enud.
My stomach felt unsettled, and there was a persistent ache forming between my brows.
It took a hot bath, a hearty meal, and drinking an inordinate amount of water to flush the alcohol from my system.
Still, I managed to bring myself to a state where I was less likely to lose my breakfast.
The early morning silence of our street was shattered by the heavy rattle of a wooden carriage, flanked by a garrison of armed Vampyr sentries.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised; the Crown had a vested interest in ensuring its Tributes arrived unscathed, and these soldiers, possessing predatory speed and unnatural strength, offered our only real protection against a Rabid attack.
Not that the Rabids were capable of a methodical strike.
They were little more than animals now, slaves to a baser instinct to hunt, tear, and consume.
From the gruesome stories passed down through Leto, any hint of reason or logic had long since burned out in them.
They were monsters caught in a horrific middle-ground: first human, then Vampyr, then finally, nothing but savage husks with an insatiable, mindless hunger for the very blood that had damned them.
Hours passed, cooped up in the carriage with my father and brother sitting across from me.
We dared not speak of our true motives given the tremendously attuned senses of those around us.
Instead, we discussed pointless topics like the weather.
Another day lost to the gloom—choking fog in the morning followed by an afternoon of leaden skies.
A thin breeze bit at my skin, but there were no signs of a true sun.
Not the kind that mattered. If the sun ever managed to burn bright enough or long enough over the lands of Devana, it might turn certain long-lived citizens to ash.
One could only pray for sun in times like these.
I told myself no good could come of these thoughts.
Especially since we’d be arriving in Enud near dark—the only time when Rabids left their nests to hunt.
And so, I anxiously watched as dusk rolled in, accompanied by a creeping sense of dread.
Father assured me the number of Vampyr Watch stationed at the Harvest would be more than we’d ever encountered.
With the nobles and King Vastion arriving, along with the four Tributes—myself included—and their families, this ceremony was of the utmost importance.
Protecting humans and Vampyr alike would be the number one priority.
Second would be the choosing of the new human queen.
As the carriage crested the hill overlooking Enud, rows upon rows of pointed tents came into view, their sharp lines traced by the warm glow of torches that paraded through the thoroughfares.
Though the sun had only just dipped below the horizon, the fires had already been lit—an exquisite, orderly display meant to stave off the gathering dark.
The scene reminded me of the tournaments that took place in the warmer seasons, where champions from all territories competed in various disciplines.
The joust was my favorite—a combination of power, speed, and most of all, precision.
But the only jousting we’d be experiencing tonight would be of the verbal variety.
Less violent, to be sure, but speed and precision were still required.
As we got closer, the outline of a tall fence encircled the perimeter of the encampment.
The thick, mist-drenched logs were lashed side-by-side, their tops carved into wicked spikes designed to disembowel anything foolish enough to scale them.
Under the flickering, amber glow of torchlight, the Watch stood like statues.
I could see countless armed sentries stationed between mounted officers, their horses restless and huffing steam into the cold night air as they waited for the Harvest to begin.
Stoic, unmoving, and unflinching. Only their eyes, scanning in all directions, indicated awareness.
As we approached the encampment, the guards outside the entrance inspected our caravan’s belongings to confirm our identities and that we harbored no stowaways.
Over the many years of Vampyr reign, the occasional disgruntled human rebels would bravely attempt to assassinate King Vastion, but it never ended well for them.
The Vampyr, in general, were difficult to overcome because of their speed and skill, and impossible to sneak up on due to their heightened senses.
Even if such an attempt had succeeded against His Majesty, another vampire would have ascended in his place.
This is precisely why my father pursued a different route. One more focused on crippling them. We were mere humans. We could never be as strong or as fast as them. They were a blight on the human world, and there was only one way to eliminate them. And that was to turn their hunger against them.
Our carriage passed through the gates onward to a set of tents reserved for our arrival.
One for my family, the other for me and a small group of women from my hometown who were given the “honor” of tending to my needs during the Harvest. All of whom were unknown to me with the exception of an acquaintance, Preet.
They would be in charge of dressing me, styling my hair, and applying various powders and paints to embellish my appearance.
Attendants were also responsible for collecting gifts from the people in our village who were sending their well-wishes and endorsement of the next human queen.
While all humans despised Vampyr, there was still a sacred privilege in claiming the queen hailed from their territory.
In the days leading up to our departure, we received many gifts from fellow Letorians.
Beautifully crafted tapestries, intricately woven baskets, furs—an array of treasures I would never see again nor benefit from.
My father instructed me to accept every gift graciously, with the honor and dignity of someone who might become royalty.
On the occasion when someone brought freshly baked goods or smoked meats, I would take them with me and donate them to those in need.
Our family was far from rich, but my father made a comfortable living from selling medicinal salves and concoctions.
This kept us well-fed and sheltered; any extra funds allowed Father to pursue his work on the greater experiment.
My attendants led the way into my tent and immediately began opening the trunks and hanging gowns in the provided dressing area.
They littered the table with a fortune in silver and gemstones.
Combs, brushes, and intricate hairpieces caught the torchlight like shards of glass.
These were the spoils gifted to us for the Harvest, specifically designed to ensure the Tribute from Leto could command the wandering eye of King Vastion.
I had never been one for the vanity of frills or the weight of useless adornments, but this was different. They worked meticulously, reframing the silk as armor and the jewels as bait. These weren’t costumes; they were essential tools, forged to ensnare a king.
“Come, we must bathe you before you’re presented.
” Preet ushered me toward a section of the tent with slightly more privacy.
I had bathed earlier that morning, but I wasn’t going to turn down a hot soak after sitting all day in a carriage.
My muscles were sore, and I’d hoped the heat of the water would soothe the tension from my body.
“I can undress myself,” I said, tugging away from Preet’s grasp as she struggled to untie the back of my dress.
She stepped back, crossing her arms in frustration, her expression sour.
“Please don’t resist my assistance. You’d be wise to become accustomed to royal treatment,” she declared confidently.
“If you’re chosen, this is what your life will be like.
You’ll never make another move without some attendant or lady’s maid hovering about. ”
She wasn’t wrong. “Well then, let me relish my last few moments of freedom, why don’t you?”
Preet poured a mixture of scented oils into the steaming bathtub, then dipped her hand beneath the surface and made a slow swirling motion, dispersing them evenly. The floral scent was so strong I could smell it from the other side of the wash area.
“You’re going to have me smelling like one of those eccentric ladies of pleasure,” I complained, rolling my eyes.
“I would never!” she exclaimed, apologetically. “Your brother instructed me to—” I cut her off.
“Ari told you to bathe me in these oils?”
“Yes, miss,” she kept her chin down, as if I were already royalty, fearing my gaze.
The memory of Ari chastising me last night in the bar came to the forefront of my mind. That bastard.
“It’s fine,” I said, stepping into the scalding tub, embracing the sharp sting of it against my skin.
I submerged my body, relaxing my shoulders and settled my back against the wooden tub. Leaning my head against the lip, I closed my eyes and asked curiously, “What else did my brother ask you to do?”
Preet made use of herself in the room by hanging up the clothes I’d discarded and straightening things that didn’t need her attention.
“Um…he told me to style your hair a certain way, even if you protest.”
“And…” I said, urging her to continue.
“And to use extra blush because you’re as pale as the moon.” Preet suddenly gasped, covering her mouth as she realized she’d repeated my brother’s rude remark.
I wasn’t going to begrudge the observation.
My light complexion contrasted greatly with the waves of fiery copper that flowed past my shoulders.
Freckles were scattered across my skin like stars in the night sky.
My father said I looked just like my mother, and I had embraced my unique appearance from a young age.
My brother had more of my father’s features: tight curls, olive complexion, though his cheeks were still painted with dark freckles.
I was only irritated that Ari thought my skin would be displeasing.
If Preet wasn’t careful with the blush, I might end up looking like one of those play actors from the theater house back home.
“I will decide how much blush we apply,” I said in a forgiving tone. “Anything else I should be aware of?”
“I’d rather not say,” she admitted bashfully.
“As your Tribute, I command you to answer.” I had no idea where that authority came from, nor if it held any actual weight. I wasn’t nobility at all, but the demand escaped my lips before I even realized I’d said it.
Preet glanced backward at the other attendants focused on their duties and lowered her voice in an attempt at discretion. “Please don’t be upset with me. He made me promise to not allow any men in this tent, even if you invited them.”
What a piece of work. He really thought I’d jeopardize my standing as Tribute by sleeping with some stranger at the Harvest?
In an effort to invalidate his concerns, I brushed her off. “Well, that’s absolutely absurd. No one but King Vastion will have my attention, so you needn’t worry about such foolish requests. This water is getting cold,” I added, signaling the end of the conversation.
Her shoulders relaxed, and she let out the breath she’d been anxiously holding, then fetched my robe.
Preet and the other attendants spent over an hour preparing me for the welcome ceremony.
One of them braided my hair intricately into a crown, weaving green ribbons throughout.
I glanced in a hand mirror and winced at my reflection, turning my head at various angles in an effort to improve my opinion.
Alas, I found no such angle, but I appreciated her effort and thanked her anyway.
I applied my own blush, just a pinch of color.
They selected a matching emerald gown to go with the ribbons.
The dress was ornate and fitted, provided as one of the gifts for being a Tribute.
I ran my fingers across the detailed designs embroidered along the flowy sleeves and waistline.
This was, admittedly, the most feminine I’d appeared in a long time, even if I did prefer my hair down.
I tried to channel confidence as Father and Ari arrived in their own polished attire to escort me to the tent at the center of the encampment.
As we neared the main tent, the melodies of musical instruments and the clamor of a crowd grew louder.
Two Vampyr guards stepped aside, allowing us entry.
The brilliance of torchlight impaired my vision momentarily, but as my eyes adjusted, I was awestruck by the revelry.
People were already feasting at banquet tables teeming with pig roast, steaming potatoes, sausage, breads and cheese of every variety.
A few brave partygoers had already taken to the dance floor, though the festivities had just begun.
Goblets were clinking left and right as wine flowed from every cup. A young woman stepped up to the table and flicked an olive into the sky, catching it in her mouth and then leading her date back to the dance floor.
Distracted by the lavish dinner of my human counterparts, it took me a moment to notice what was taking place on the other side of the room.
There were the same long tables, but instead of rows of food there were goblets and carafes every few seats containing a delicacy of another kind.
The Vampyr nobles, each of them dashing and sophisticated, sat with perfect posture, a hint of condescension coloring their gazes as they fell upon the human guests.
The finest mortal attire paled in comparison to the lavishness of the nobles’ closets.
They had amassed wealth for generations, and their jewels and perfectly tailored garments heralded that fact.
I witnessed one of them take a drink from their goblet and lick a thick, crimson bead of liquid from their lips.
It was preposterous. One side drank human blood, donated by our Vassals, while the other partied like they weren’t also food for their counterparts.
I tried to conceal my disgust because anyone could be watching. Even the king himself.
A thin man, clearly Vampyr, escorted me and my family to an area dedicated to the Tributes and their families.
I desperately wanted to stay close to Ari and Father, but I was quickly instructed to take a seat at a separate table specifically for the Tributes.
Front and center for all to appraise. I was the last to arrive, seeing as the Tributes from Muir, Lyr, and Enud were already seated and engaged in small talk.
Just as I took my seat next to a brunette, loud horns began to blare through the tent, emptying the dance floor and making a path.
For him.