Chapter 9 | Sephania
Sephania
Skartovius has a scowl on his face that could kill babies.
We’re seated in the main dining hall of Manor Sirenchis, Helget sitting at the head of the table and Demilord Godial standing at her side, ever the valiant protector of his bleak mistress.
The tension in the room is such that it feels like things could fall into chaos and come to blows at the snap of a finger.
Skar keeps his scowl trained at me. Even when Helget says, “You’ve lost your home, but you haven’t lost your mission, my lord,” Skar doesn’t look away from me.
Wondering why he looks ready to kill me, I tighten as the truth punches me in the gut.
Our rooms were right next to each other.
He heard everything between me, Lukain, and Garroway.
My stomach plummets to my boots. I resist wincing, and his gold-flecked eyes are doing a good job of piercing through my soul anyway.
That was not what I had intended last night! Truehearts fuck me, I’d only gone into Garro’s room because I couldn’t sleep! I didn’t intend for it to become an orgy of the most delectable sort.
Now Skar’s death-scowl makes a lot more sense.
I turn my attention to Helget, trying to ignore the ex-lord’s distracting, sinfully handsome face. “You’re right, Helg. We still have allies in pockets of the outskirts, like those guards from Demilord Tymon’s estate. You, too, I hope.”
Helget nods her chin deeply. “You know where to find me, Sephania. Our vow stays true. The Ministers must die.” She puts her hand on Godial’s muscled forearm next to her, intimately rubbing him and making me wonder if another orgy isn’t about to break out the moment we leave this place.
“Where to, then?” Garroway asks. He has one leg curled over his knee, tapping his boot. The dhampir looks exceedingly relaxed tonight, and for good reason. His eyes keep dancing over to me and Lukain, a smirk playing on his lips.
Try to show a little decorum, eh, cub? Your master is about to skewer me like a lance with his eyes, and you’re probably next!
The last thing I need is a spat with the rest of my mates.
I already have one unruly vampire to tend to, when he is the one who should be apologizing to Lukain. None of this is my fault.
Lord Skartovius Ashfen is so damned arrogant, he probably thinks last night was premeditated and meant to torture him with the sounds of our lust.
“I would like to see that my mother is safe,” I voice.
Skar says, “I’m sure you would.”
Furrowing my brow and trying to match his scowl, I stand from my seat. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Only that you’ve fallen into your reckless ways, little temptress. Do you not stop to think what danger it might put—”
“Enough, you two,” Vallan grunts. He stands beside me, towering. I know I can count on him to always be the voice of reason, if for no other cause than to display his size and skills at intimidation. “We’ll get nowhere with all this bickering. It must end.”
I raise my chin, not backing down. Skartovius does the same, and I recognize we’re both being bratty and exasperating to the rest of the people around the table, and the evening has only just begun.
Lukain, at the end of the table farthest from Skartovius, says, “If our little grimmer wants to go to the Chained Sisters to see her mother, then we go to the Chained Sisters to see her mother.”
I smile demurely at him.
“Easy for you to fall in line with our queen after the exalted evening you had with her, is it not, brother?” Skar spits out.
Garroway says, “Master, you’re being an ass.”
Unlike Vallan, my poor dhampir is typically ignored when he tries to interject, as he is now. He simply doesn’t have the gravity and girth Vallan has.
“Why, yes, brother, it is quite easy,” Lukain answers Skar in equally as snide of a tone. He takes a step around the table, toward Skartovius.
“You’re lucky I gave you back that silver sword, pup,” Skar growls, baring his fangs.
I roll my eyes. Looking to a corner of the room, I see Palacia eyeing everyone warily, her big orbs darting back and forth between speakers. She seems even smaller than usual, trying to stay unnoticed.
It angers me for some reason, so I pound the table with my fists as the voices rise again.
All eyes turn to me at the loud thud.
“Enough!” I cry out. “Vallan is right. Our hosts don’t deserve to see such ridiculousness from us. Let us all get some fresh air and get out of Helget’s hair.”
I give her a nod, she nods back, and then my mates grumble and decide it’s the best course of action.
As we start to flood out of the room, Helget says, “Lady Lock, if I may have a word?”
My mates look at me, I dip my head in approval, and they meander out with Palacia, leaving me alone with Helget and Godial. “I’m sorry about that, Helg,” I sigh from the foot of the table. “Things have been . . . tense since losing Manor Marquin.”
Her red eyes are stern. Her body gleams from a silhouette of the moon behind, outlining her. “Get your men in line, Sephania. You see me with mine?”
My teeth grind and I nod. I don’t need a lecture. “Yes. You keep them on a tight leash.”
Demilord Godial only smirks, not taking my words as a slight.
“I fuck Godial, Eldis, and Darrien as often as possible. Multiple times a day,” Helget says unabashedly. “You’re right, I keep them on a tight leash. They love me for it.”
“I’m trying!” I wail, the vexation clear in my tone.
“I know. I heard it last night. We all did.”
I throw my arms up. “I’m only human.”
They laugh in unison, though I meant nothing by it.
“Yes, your human muscles and feelings and weaknesses taint your endurance,” Helget points out unhelpfully. “That can be changed.”
“I don’t want to be a vampire,” I say sternly. “I can do this. I will bring them back here in better shape than when we left. I promise.”
Helget looks me over for a moment. Slowly, she begins to nod with understanding.
She hasn’t moved from her place at the head of the table and I get the feeling she rarely does.
“If anyone can,” she murmurs, “I believe it’s you.
When you get your company in order and seek allies to bring down the Ministers, you know where to find me, old friend. ”
It could always be worse. Yes, my mates are ready to rip each other’s throats out as we leave Castle Sirenchis and stalk across the valley of the northeastern Olhavian Peaks. Yes, I’m bone-tired and weary from so much walking and arguing and scouting. Still, it could always be worse.
“We could have no allies,” I say to my men, lifting a finger. I’m eager to tell them all the good things that could be in store for us. “Very few people know of Manor Marquin, so far. Probably.” I raise a second finger.
“Don’t try to find the silver lining with us, love,” Garroway says miserably. “We’re allergic to silver.”
I laugh humorlessly and shake my head.
We fall into decidedly uncompanionable silence, putting one boot in front of the other as we slowly meander west across the peaks. Our party of six keeps to the outskirts of Olhav as we draw close, like we always do.
This time as we traverse the shining city, we spot Aramastun’s judgemen standing as sentinels in nearly every section of Olhav where we’d usually walk in. They stare out, broad-brimmed hats turning left and right, cloaks fluttering in the breeze. Standing guard.
We have to widen our gap even further.
“Eventually we’ll have to penetrate their lines if we wish to make it inside the city,” Skar says. “Aramastun evidently has the entire place under martial law since taking over as sole emperor.”
“Maybe not, Master,” Garroway answers.
We stay behind a hill, hiding in some shrubs where no one can see us under the cover of darkness. Garroway kneels. He closes his eyes and touches the earth.
“What are you doing, cub? Presenting yourself for Lukain again?” Skar wonders.
Trying to get him to stop picking on Garro, I glance at Skar and throw him a smirk.
“How does it feel to be like the rest of us, lord prince? Before, you’d walk me through the streets of Olhav without a care in the world.
I had to sneak through the outskirts with Garro.
It’s how us lesser beings have always traversed through Olhav. ”
Lukain scoffs and puts a hand on his chest. “Try not showing your face at all because you’re an outcast and presumed dead.”
Vallan says, “I must admit to missing Cordea and the silver mines.”
I put a hand on his bulky shoulder. “I’m sorry, Vall. Perhaps we can visit her at the North Mines after the Chained Sisters.”
He shakes his head. “Too dangerous. Aramastun has control over the guards there now. My place is with you, silverblood.”
I smile weakly at him.
Skartovius smiles at me, but it’s a rictus thing that doesn’t belong on his gaunt face. “Aye, love, I am an outcast, fugitive, and inferior being like the rest these men now. I’ve earned my place among the commonbloods.”
“You don’t sound too torn up about it,” I point out.
“Because when I finally do strike, it won’t be from the gilded halls of my manor. It will be from the shadows they thought not to look upon. Our destitution gives us an advantage.”
Slowly, I beam. He speaks cunningly, but I can’t help but smile. “See? You aren’t allergic to the silver lining after all!”
A squawk overhead has us gazing heavenward as a flock of crows fly into the moonlight from the forest behind us. They fly over the hill, out of sight, toward Olhav.
A moment later, raised voices. Footfalls.
Garroway opens his eyes, breathing rapidly. Still kneeling, he looks worn. “We’d better move, friends.”
Palacia and I help him to his feet.
We dash out of the hill with the others. I see he’s put his beast-charming to good use and created a diversion.
We find a gap in the line of soldiers ahead. The vampire judgemen supposed to keep watch on the rocky outskirts have deserted their post to go see what the ruckus was with the birds gliding into an outpost. It created an opening, which we jet through before they can return.