Chapter 50 | Sephania #2
And yet, the diabolical nature of his lie makes me sick to my stomach.
Bile rises at the back of my throat, a headache pulses behind my eyes.
“All those things you wrote, the things Lukain believed and brought to Alacine to confirm. They were lies? Tricks to get him on our side and finish off your hated enemy?”
“She was my mother too, little temptress. Do not forget.”
“You are heartless,” I hiss.
Skar’s face hardens. When our eyes meet, I see a different man for the first time. A true devil, to play with his half-brother’s heart and history like this. “I have never shied away from what I am, and I have never lied to you in the telling of it, Sephania. I am a monster.”
I open my mouth to shout, to scream, to do anything as I jolt to my feet—
But Garroway stands in the door, taking up the frame, and hurries with, “We have a problem.”
“What is it, cub?” Skar snaps. “We’re busy—”
“My little eyes in the woods are showing me something bad. An army, in fact.”
Skartovius stands. I step away from him, which makes the corners of his eyes tighten. When our eyes meet, the expression on my face is clear enough to tell him this is not over, despite the rude interruption.
After what he’s just told me, I’m not sure I can ever trust him again. It wasn’t Vallan or Lukain I had to worry about this whole time. It was him!
“What army?” Skar snarls.
“Aramastun Wyvox has arrived . . . and he’s brought a regiment of judgemen with him.”
I don’t know what the fuck “judgemen” are, but by the pale tint to Skar’s already-pale face, I know it’s bad.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
And then we hear it—a booming voice echoing through the windows of the manor, drilling to my very core and shaking my foundation.
“Lord Skartovius Ashfen of Manor Marquin! A pleasant evening, I pray. You have perhaps learned of the untimely deaths of Overlord Barnabac Craxon and Overlady Alacine Mortis. As the barrister of the remaining ministries, I have seen fit to take their respective wards under my command, for the time being.”
Fuck, I think, my mind whirling. The leader of the Judgment Ward taking both the Intelligence and Military wards for his own purposes? Based on the haunted expressions Garroway and Skartovius are showing, this is very bad news.
“As such, Lord Ashfen,” the overlord continues, “I have decided to rescind your status as lord of this manor, and claim it under the jurisdiction of Olhav’s Three Ministries. Effective immediately.”
I gasp. Turn to my mates. “He can’t do that, can he?”
I already hear footsteps scampering through the halls upstairs and below—everyone hearing the same information yelled out to us from the courtyard of the manor.
Skartovius’ shoulders sink. There’s a defeated look on his face, the first of its kind I’ve ever seen. “He’s Aramastun Wyvox, the Night Judge. He can do whatever he wants.”
“And he just did,” Garro sighs. “Come on! We go to the catacombs.”
I blink wildly. “The catacombs?”
He takes my hand and pulls me out of the room. Skar snaps out of his stupor and is right behind us, his cloak fluttering. I notice he stashes his journal in his tunic before we run down the hall.
Even as we run, Aramastun’s voice continues through the windows. I thank the True the blinds are pulled so he can’t see us fleeing.
“We must replenish the ranks of our Olhavian army to put a stop to the madness happening in Nuhav. I’m sure you understand, Skartovius. It is nothing personal. The countryside manors are the first to be repossessed.”
Aramastun is fucked if he thinks we’ll believe that. This is a planned hit against Skar, and it’s obvious. As the de facto leader of the Five Ministries—now Three—he is taking matters into his own hands.
Unfortunately, we’re fucked, because he controls all the power. And now he also controls the military arm and the spy network of Olhav.
It appears, in killing Alacine and Barnabac, we’ve unleashed the worst and most dangerous nobleblood of them all.
Goosebumps flash across my skin as we gather provisions, though I have no idea what we’re doing or where we’re going. All I know for certain is we can’t face off against Aramastun and his sycophants in our current state.
“Garroway,” Skar commands, “see that Jinneth and Palacia are with us. We’ll find Vallan and Lukain. Meet in the conference room in two minutes.”
It takes us less than a single minute to reconvene, with my mother limping along hurriedly, Palacia and Garroway right behind her. We come from all three directions—Vallan and Lukain barreling through an opposite door in the room.
Everyone’s eye are concerned, but no one looks fearful. We’re too proud of a group to admit defeat so willingly.
“So? The catacombs?” I croak with a scratchy throat. “Can we shadowwalk to them?”
Skartovius shakes his head. “No shadows down there for us to portal out of. We must run.”
He goes to a wall, clicks something behind a sconce, and the wall caves in and opens into a dark, eerie doorway.
Just as we’re ready to flee, Skartovius Ashfen gives his manor one last look, gazing up at the chandeliers, the elegant doors and rugs, the tapestries. Everything he has worked so hard to maintain.
And now it is gone in the snap of a finger.
We turn tail and plunge into the darkness—
Just as the front doors of Manor Marquin explode on their hinges.
To Be Continued!
Sephania returns with her wicked vampires right here in the conclusion of “A Vision of Fangs” – SILVERBLOOD!
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