Chapter 11 | Sephania
Sephania
Zefyra finishes her tale of how she arrived here with a group of ragtag interfolk miners. Ex-miners, now revolutionaries.
The story is long in telling. By this point, the flock of miners has joined our table, circling in and drinking while they listen.
Many of them stand on their feet behind our group at the table.
Others sit with us in nearby booths. Everyone’s gathered around to hear Zefyra’s yarn, likely for the hundredth time.
Unlike most humans, they aren’t afraid of bumping shoulders with the vampires in my gang.
More than anyone, the interfolk know what it’s like to be outcasts and looked down upon.
Not that vampires are looked down on here, in Olhav, but treading within a group of suspicious humans?
They aren’t given a favorable opinion, surely.
I can see these people as true allies, I think as Zefyra winds down. The soldiers at Tymon’s, Helget and her paramours, the misrepresented workers from the North Mines. We truly do have allies in all corners of the mountain.
Now we’re actually finding them.
The thought gives me hope. It fills me with fervor, knowing our goal of a better Olhav and Nuhav has taken its first steps.
With Aramastun Wyvox on a rampage throughout the countryside, and his heel firmly on our throat, there’s no backing down. The only answers are victory or death.
I’d prefer the former, but I’m willing to succumb to the latter if it means guaranteeing the victory for humankind in Nuhav and the downfall of the Three Ministries here in Olhav.
Sister Zefyra throws her arms wide. “. . . And that’s how I got this pretty scar. Pretty silly, isn’t it?”
A few of the interfolk chuckle.
I, unfortunately, had tuned her out. There are more pressing things on my mind—other parts of her story I’ve focused on and want to discuss.
Once she’s finished and falls silent, someone brings her a mug of ale and she drinks it heartily, smacking her lips. She turns to me with a smirk.
I’m not sure I like this swaggering version of Zefyra as much as I liked the kinder, gentler girl from the Chained Sisters.
Then again, that was when she was a human.
After her lover’s gruesome death, and getting turned into a vampire by Taskmistress Cordea, I can’t blame her for becoming this darker, grittier version of herself.
I imagine, after Ethera, she had nothing to live for in her mind. So vampirism was the logical next step.
I suppose the same transformation can be said of me, I muse, watching Zefyra’s throat bob as she finishes her first mug and gets brought another.
Not the vampire-turning part, but the personality shift.
The way I treated Aelin; the numerous people I’ve killed in my quest for a better world.
I’ve certainly become darker and more ruthless in my time with Skar, Vall, and Garro.
As it stands, I have no idea if I’ll be seen on the right side of history once this is all done. Or if I’ll just be another monster in annals full of them.
“So, Zef,” I say once she begins to sip her second mug and most of the interfolk listeners have wandered off to their respective tables. “You say you’ve networked. That you can get us a meeting with Overliege Liolen Sesk. And that you can help us find the Chained Sisters.”
“One is easier than the other, Sister,” she replies. “One, I merely point on a map. The other might take some . . . diplomacy.”
Yes. Liolen Sesk, though interfolk, is still one of the remaining Ministers. A monstrously powerful one judging by their leadership of the Commerce Ward where we now sit hidden in this abandoned tavern. It also means they’re ruthless, to have risen to the rank they’ve risen to.
I click my tongue and fold my hands together on the tabletop. “We’re not big for dallying. After everything that’s happened so far, we’re in a bit of a rush.”
She chuckles and sets her ale down. “I imagine so. Tell me what you need.”
I glance at my men—Vall and Lukain to the left of me, Skar and Garro to the right. Zefyra sits across from me, and Palacia sticks close to her shoulder, as if curious about the pretty, scarred vampiress.
“It sounds like we need to split up,” I say. “Get two things done at once.”
The resistance is immediate. Vallan lets out a grunt, Skar scoffs, and Garroway shakes his head furiously, saying, “No, no, this is a strategic nightmare, little honey badger.”
I blink and stare at Lukain. The only one who hasn’t responded. “Master?”
He frowns at me. His lean face is starting to darken with days-old stubble. “Whatever you decide, little grimmer, is the course of action I’ll take.”
His words dull my other mates’ opposition to the idea. By the looks on their faces, averting their gazes, they seem perturbed and guilty the newest member of our group is the one standing by me the hardest.
I suspected Lukain’s response to be something like that, of course. After the night we had, how could he answer any other way? Small games to get what I want in the grand scheme. I hide my gloating smirk behind my hand, tapping my chin as if I’m deep in thought.
Skartovius says, “Fine, the dhampir is right. I go with you, however.”
I shake my head. “No, love. Both groups need a leader. You need to be one of them.”
My aim is to speak to his self-importance to get what I need and, of course, to dig the knife in a little deeper, so he knows I’m still unhappy with him and there are no easy ways to get out of the shit-house he’s found himself in.
I point at Skar and twiddle my finger down the line of mates. My finger stops at Lukain, passes him to Vallan . . . and then returns to Lukain. “Skartovius, you will go with your brother.”
Playing dumb, Lukain says, “Which one?”
“His actual brother. You, of course.”
Lukain frowns.
Skartovius stiffens in his seat. His gold-flecked eyes burrow under my skin, his gaze intense and filled with wrath. “That’s untenable, little temptress.”
“Why?”
“Because the fucker hates me.”
Pindrop silence—
And then loud voices of hostility from Garroway and Lukain and even Vallan, all sounding their disapproval of Skar’s complaint. They join the raucous conversation the interfolk are having around us.
As my bratty gloating at the upheaval I’ve caused reaches new heights, I recall Helget’s parting words. “Get your men in line, Sephania.”
My haughty smirk dies a quiet death. Frowning, I sigh and reach for a mug of ale that’s empty, sadly. I suppose getting them riled up is going against that notion.
My fist rattles the table and everyone stops talking to glance at me. “Lukain and Skartovius will meet Overliege Liolen with Zefyra,” I say with finality. “You’re a vampire lord and a nobleblood, Skar. The overliege will speak with you easier than they would me.”
“Ex-lord,” Skartovius points out, “current fugitive on the run, and the perfect target for Liolen to capture and hand over to Aramastun for loyalty points.”
I lift my hands from the table. “It can’t be me, can it?”
“No! It shouldn’t be any of us, you fucking brat!” Skartovius yells. He’s immediately annoyed at this line of thinking. “There’s no reason we need to meet with Liolen Sesk.”
I glance at Vallan beside me. “How did Vallan bring down Overlord Barnabac, hmm? By meeting with him. Day in, day out.”
“Out of compulsion to do so, silverblood,” he grunts.
“Still. Without that connection, that closeness, we would have never gotten as far as you did. Skar, I’m sure you can do the same with Liolen.”
The nobleblood clenches his jaw and presses his fingers to the thin bridge of his nose.
“At the very least, it should be Vallan going with me. With his bloodsight, he can tell when you’re in trouble.
With my shadowwalking, I can bring us to you in a heartbeat if anything goes awry for you in Nuhav. ”
Skartovius’ prudent suggestion has everyone else nodding along. His words ring true, of course, because he’s smart and having two of my strongest mates together while meeting with Liolen Sesk is a huge boon.
I’m not going to let him off that easy. Because the point isn’t about the meeting with Liolen Sesk, in my mind. Skar knows that. It’s about having some “alone time” with Lukain so the two of them can hash out their differences and hopefully return to me as allies rather than unwitting enemies.
I need my mates to trust each other for this to work and for our goals to see fruition.
Against the wave of nodding faces, I go against the tide and shake my head.
“You’ve all called me the leader of this outfit.
That’s my decision. Palacia will go with you, because she might be able to relate to Liolen as an interfolk.
” I cringe, peeking over Zefyra’s shoulder, and add, “I hope that wasn’t insulting. Sorry if it was, Pala.”
She shrugs. “I don’t care where I go.”
I wish all my mates were as compliant as her. Of course, she’s also not my mate, and doesn’t want to be hitched to my side at all times. Right?
“That leaves Garro and Vall with me,” I announce, and sit back in my seat, trying not to act smug. “We will go to Nuhav to find my mother and the rest of the Chained Sisters.”
Zefyra gives me an impressed pout. “I like the way you run your company, Sister Sephania. Like a true leader. Even if your ideas are shit.”
I bark a laugh. Garro cracks a smile. Vallan grunts.
Inclining my chin to Zefyra, I say, “That leaves one last point, Zef. Can you point on a map where you hid the Chained Sisters?”
She smiles. “You know the popular tavern with the cock on the front, in the south?”
My eyebrows lift. “The cock?”
“The rooster. Crowing chicken. Whatever it is.”
I nod. “Right.”
“Down the street is a smaller brothel tended by a man named Kep. Real pleasant fucker.”
You mean the brothel where I fucked Garroway on the roof? Where we killed Pukren the flesh-trader? Where we first ran across Sister Cyprilis? Where we nearly came to blows with ol’ Kep and his younger workers trying to save vampiress Cy? “The name rings a bell,” I say flatly.
“In the basement of the brothel, that’s where you’ll find the Chained Sisters.” She dips her chin. “Unchained, I assure you.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, thinking it over. “You’ve told this grand story, Zefyra. What I want to know is how you managed to bring an army of girls and women into Nuhav and under the Floorboards.”
“I’m good at being invisible.”
I snort. “That explanation isn’t going to work forever, old friend.”
“For now it’s going to have to.”
Our eyes lock. We’re equal in terms of audacity.
I have to say I enjoy rapping with her. “Fine. For now,” I relent.
My eyes swivel to Skartovius, who is still steaming over his job placement with his half-brother.
“You want to make yourself useful to our cause, love? Then why don’t you throw a shadow on the wall over there and help portal us to the cock bar. ”