Chapter 3 | Sephania
Sephania
Jinneth entertains the group of girls for another hour, waxing poetic about her time in captivity among the bloodsuckers. She expertly weaves a thread of torment and resistance while telling her story, garnering stern faces, snarls, and even a few growls from the Chained Sisters.
Just how long has she practiced for this moment? Did she know she would one day be rescued? I wonder, standing near the back archway with my mates. Even now, she twists a story meant to rile up the Sisters and advocate for the cause.
The girls grow agitated as they listen with rapt attention.
There’s an expression of concealed worry on Keffa’s face, inspecting her flock while Jinneth talks.
She sees what I see: Jinneth is a firebrand and her hate runs deep.
For all the kind, nurturing atmosphere Keffa has harbored in this rundown tenement for hurt, outcast lasses, the return of her lover tells of a new chapter in the life of the Chained Sisters.
Jinneth is ready to embark upon a campaign of violence and vengeance to the bloodies who captured her and kept her from her people for so long.
Listening to my mother, I start to pick up conflicting details, and wonder if she’s telling the whole truth of her imprisonment, or if there isn’t some showmanship and politicking going on behind her words.
She tells of the cruel ways the vampires treated her, yet also says they practically forgot her existence for years on end, only coming to bring her meager scraps of food every three days.
Jinneth never speaks of why she was captured, which sets off alarm bells in my mind. For all the years she was gone, isn’t the reason for her being taken the most important detail of all? One that is strangely omitted?
My thoughts seem only shared by me and my mates, judging by the curious glances they toss at one another as Jinneth rambles on.
She talks slowly, choosing every word for the greatest impact on the younglings in her presence.
“The wretched devils housed me in numerous cells over the years, playing loose with my life as if I wasn’t even worth the cold bars I sat behind.
When construction became necessary in Sutlis Spire, I was moved to separate, tighter confines in a different jail within the Judgment Ward.
Always alone. They never left me in any sort of general population.
Solitary confinement was my lot in life. ”
“They sought to steal your humanity. Turn you into an animal like them!” one girl pipes up.
“Aye, lass.” Jinneth wags a finger and squares her shoulders. “I would not allow them that luxury. I couldn’t let them win, you see? I maintained my sanity by etching drawings into the stone walls of my cells with my nails.”
Sisters shake their heads in unified misery.
Once she’s finally finished, leading up to our daring rescue of her, Jinneth casually glances over at Keffa with a helpless look in her eyes.
Girls start asking questions, barking all at once in a confluence of shrill voices.
Keffa stands and rests a hand on Jinneth’s shoulder.
With a kind smile, she says, “Sister Jinneth is not going anywhere, little doves. She has had an arduous evening and it has exhausted her. We need to allow her rest now. Your questions can wait.”
Keffa’s eyes rise above the crowd and meet mine, telling me she meant that last bit for me, specifically.
The questions I have are numerous and detailed—more than the broad veneer my mother has painted her story with.
Why did she leave me, abandoning me to a horrid life in Nuhav?
Why was she arrested and kept for so long?
Why was she never turned?
What can you tell me about my Loreblood?
Why am I special?
In that case, who is my father?! If my mother is a human, and my blood is unique and damning to vampire masters while also being a healing salve and a severing tool for thralls, then it figures my father’s bloodline must be where it stems from, no? Just what sort of monster was he?
By the time I’ve rattled off the incessant questions in my head, Jinneth has risen from her chair with Keffa beside her. They head for the stairs leading to the second level bedrooms, the girls watching them go.
I take a step forward to say something—
Skar stops me with a hand on my arm. He shakes his head gravely. “Not now, love. Let your mother sleep.” He reads the frustration on my face and continues. “You’ll get more out of her when she’s energized, rather than trying to force answers from a tired woman.”
I close my mouth, grind my teeth, and nod hard. He’s right. Kill her with kindness, not forceful inquiries. “Fine,” I spit out. “You heard her story, did you not? It sounded like . . .” I roll my wrist, searching for the right word.
“Horseshit? Like a prepared speech meant to rile up her supporters for action? Yes.”
We’re on the same page then.
I’m surprised when Skar’s beautiful lips curl with a smirk. “I must say I’m impressed she was able to push through all of her exhaustion to spread her message.”
“I have a feeling things are about to change around the Chained Sisters,” Garroway says.
With a severe nod, I glance over at Vallan and see he’s doing the same. “We’ll see how the two leaders vie with one another,” the hulking vampire says. “It should be interesting.”
“Interesting?” I say. “That’s my mother you’re talking about—”
“And a formidable woman. At the same time, Iron Sister Keffa is no slouch herself.”
“Do you suspect a feud?” I ask.
“Time will tell.” Vallan’s scrutinizing eyes examine everyone in the room. “They would not be the first lovers to quarrel over how to run things in their house.”
My chuckle sounds spiteful.
Garroway reaches out and takes my hand. With a light squeeze, forcing my eyes over to his handsome face, he says, “In the meantime, lass, don’t you also have a life to live now that you’re home? People to see, things to learn?”
I match his smile, feeling ashamed my mind has been fixated on my mother and my conflicting emotions ever since my escape. I’ve hardly had any time to spend with the vampires I crave.
There’s more, besides. Kleora is dead. Lukain will be angry. My former master told me to ask Skartovius about where he got his silver saber, hinting it would unravel me somehow. I still need to ask those hard questions.
Rirth and the Grimsons hate me after I inadvertently got Culiar killed, which is awful. Maybe I can meet with them and try to rectify our issues. I’m wary of apologizing to them since Culiar knew what he was getting into when I chose him to fight.
I blink, shaking my head and realizing just how true Garroway’s words are.
There’s a life I’ve been gone from for three months, just as I was beginning to come into my own as an ally of Lord Ashfen of Manor Marquin, and a member of his court.
No, a queen, in his eyes. The first ever human member of his court.
As long as we can keep Jinneth safe here, my questions for her can wait a little longer.
“You’re too right, Garro.” I step forward and place a small kiss on his smooth cheek. “I’ve been gone far too long. I’d like to see just how much things have changed in my absence.”
“Your absence has been sorely noticed,” Skar says. “And trying.”
I smile sadly at him. “I’m sorry.”
He glances out a window, into the approaching dawn. “We need rest as well. We have things to do now that you’re safe. I would like to get those tasks done before the sun lifts above the skyrises.”
I nod diligently, realizing I might not get my wish to laze away the afternoon with my vampires after all.
“Master is right, sadly,” Garroway adds with a frown. “We all need rest. Can you sleep here, little honey badger? We will assure your safety.”
“That’s fine.” I let out a heavy sigh. The impending loss of my men is a heavy weight to bear, and I can’t hide it from my voice. “This evening, then?”
“Of course.” Skar gives me a small nod.
“What is it you need to do?”
Vallan says, “North Mines for me. I’ve been distracted in my duties planning your rescue. Cordea’s been running the ship and I’d like to get my hands on the helm.”
Garroway says, “I have a meeting planned with our silversmith friend in Nuhav. It’s hard to find Master Vanison on the best of days, so I don’t want to squander the opportunity.”
Skar snorts. “Master? You only have one Master, cub, and it’s not Vanison Shirin.
” He shakes his head and sees me watching him.
“I will return to Manor Marquin to shore up any disagreements within my court. With you returned, my people need to know what to expect and how to act when they see you next.”
I bite my lip, giving a forlorn nod as he finishes. “The wheels of time keep rolling.”
A soft caress ghosts across my chin as Skartovius tilts my head to face him. “We can stay, love.” His eyes drill into mine.
I swallow past a dry throat, wanting nothing more than to accept his words.
But here, among my mother and the Chained Sisters?
I’d never be able to do what scandalous things I have in mind while Jinneth, Keffa, and the others are just a wall away.
“No,” I say, running my hand across his forearm.
“We will reconvene. The day is upon us, we need rest, and you have missions. I can’t be selfish. ”
“You can always be selfish with us, little temptress.”
I walk down the empty hall with my men behind me.
The older women are starting to cook and the bustle of an early morning picks up inside the dwelling.
Our restless night has come to an end, but here, the day is just beginning.
I have no doubt I’ll find sleep the instant my head meets a cot.
I can barely stand upright and my mind pulses from a gnawing hangover.
At the front door, I grab Skar’s hand, which works to spin all three of them toward me.
There’s worry on my face as another question rises.
“We were ambushed by Alacine Mortis of the Intelligence Ward,” I begin, “in a location owned by Liolen Sesk of the Commerce Ward. I was given over to a prison in Aramastun Wyvox’s Judgment Ward, which was guarded by Barnabac Craxon’s soldiers from the Military Ward. ”
Skar smiles. “You’ve not forgotten your studies. Good girl.”
My body melts at the praise, yet my worry grows. “Do you not fear the Five Ministries may retaliate after all this? Might they burn you out, steal your property, do something to Manor Marquin . . .” I raise my chin, breathing deeply. “Might they try to destroy you all?”
Skar stares down his nose at me, his eyes dancing as he searches the tangible fear written on my face. Then he breaks into another smug smirk, which is both infuriating and so delectable on his perfectly sculpted pale face. He sweeps strands of auburn hair back, off his shoulders.
“No, love,” he says. “For Lukain to admit what happened tonight is to invite political suicide. He’s already died and been reborn once as Overseer Verant. He won’t want to die again. It’s not the Olhavian way to admit to being bested.”
I clench my teeth, regarding him, trying to feel out if he’s speaking the whole truth or just placating me so I won’t worry while they’re gone. It’ll be impossible not to.
“Then what will happen?” I know how naive and foolish of a question it is in a world of mysteries and unpredictable monsters. The landscape is ever-changing up in the mountains of Olhav, because vampires are too conniving to keep static.
“Overlady Alacine will keep coming for you in secret, though I suspect with more force, frequency, and urgency than before. We have some time because she will need to figure out what went wrong that allowed your escape. She will have to answer to Overlord Aramastun for the damage to his property; to Overlord Barnabac for the death of his soldiers when we rescued Jinneth.”
“Do you think she will enlist the aid of the other four Ministries to snuff us out?”
“No.” His answer is quick, baffling.
“Why?”
Skar’s smirk turns into a cruel, knowing smile. “Self-preservation, power, and ambition, love. For now, they’re working in our favor. Alacine Mortis wants you all to herself.”