Chapter 32 | Sephania
Sephania
We’ve used Lyroan to test the Silverblood, ostensibly with Vallan as a control group. I should feel awful about it.
Yet I don’t.
It’s only when someone close to me is suggested as the next guinea pig—my lovely cub—that I grow defensive at the prospect. I try to tell myself, It’s for the cause, the revolution, but I feel like I’m lying to myself.
I won’t try to convince Garro this is in our best interest. I saw the fear skitter across his face, the notion of losing both Skartovius and me in his head, bound to him.
We offer Garroway grounding in this tumultuous world, which I can only imagine is even more haphazard as a grayskin.
Humans hate him for being part-vampire, vampires hate him for being part-human.
After seeing his reaction to Jinneth’s suggestion, I finally see for the first time how misplaced he must feel.
How outcast and apart from the inhabitants of the sister cities, similar to Palacia and the interfolk.
Of course, as a dhampir, he is given more natural leverage than the interfolk people who have transitioned from their born state.
Garroway and Lukain have supernatural strength and speed.
They’re highly intelligent, cunning, beautiful specimens.
There is no shortage of suitable mates, partners, or paramours for the grayskins who straddle the world between the mountains.
When we are alone that early morning, I tell my mother to find someone else to test the Silverblood on. “If no one is willing, that tells us all we need about the elixir. We can’t use it on the broader populace if no one will take it willingly in its current state.”
A shadow of shock crosses her features, as if she hadn’t considered we might not even use the thing she’d been so obsessed in creating.
“That’s foolish, dear daughter. This is our weapon, we both know it.
We can’t suspect bloodthralls will wish to drink the concoction on their own.
Not without some coaxing. Subterfuge must be used. ”
My brow furrows. “Subterfuge how? What are you suggesting, Mother?”
“Rally the servants of the noble houses in Olhav. Slip it into their masters’ bloody chalices. Into soup bowls for the turned humans. Pour some into mugs of ale at the taverns.”
My head reels. “You’re talking about drugging and poisoning our enemies.”
She scrutinizes me deeply, huffing a laugh. “And? Did you think this would be tidy, Sephania? That our enemies would gladly take this elixir to ‘fix’ themselves? No, they will fight us fang and nail.”
Vexed at the ease with which she’s suggesting all this, I gesture to her missing left hand. “You make us sound like the woman who cut your fucking hand off. Like Alacine with her poisons and web of lies. Like assassins.”
Jinneth sighs and stands. She pats me on the shoulder on her way out of the small dwelling. “You’re too virtuous for your own good, sweetheart. You’ll learn though. We have to use any means necessary to defeat this plague.”
Vampirism as a plague? Yes, she has always thought that, hasn’t she? After reading Skar’s journal and learning of the history of Olhav and Nuhav—the way the vampires rose up from the dark in the silver mines—I suppose they are a plague. An infestation.
So why have I fallen in love with four of them?
I clear my throat as she reaches the open cave entrance. She slowly turns when I chuckle. “Funny you should call me too virtuous, Mother. Because everyone else seems to think I’ve been corrupted beyond repair.”
By week four of our agreement with Overliege Liolen Sesk, we are no longer allowed entry. Our bags of silver had gotten lighter and lighter as the nights dragged on, and now the haul is halted altogether.
Cordea meets me, Vallan, and Garroway at the edge of the mountain pass, cutting off our entry before we can finish the decline into the sprawling camp.
Vall is quick with his hand on his axe, twitching when she appears before us like a shadowy apparition.
Cordea flips her raven-black hair off her shoulder. It appears she’s alone. Around the corner of the hills could be an ambush, of course, but there isn’t much else for any fighting contingent to hide behind.
She puts her hands on her hips, blocking our path. “The way is closed, Vallan.”
“What do you mean closed, woman,” he snarls, towering over the lithe vampiress. “We have a deal with Liolen Sesk to give us access. I didn’t want to make a fuss about the lighter bags over the past few weeks—”
“Your deal is through,” she cuts in. “Completed. Talk to the overliege about it.” She gives us a small shrug.
Vallan clenches his jaw. I can tell he’s seconds away from a bloodrage situation. “We could kill you and march right in—”
“You could,” Cordea cuts in with a small smirk, “but there are dozens of Aramastun’s guards stationed in the camp, as usual. They did not take their usual break. You’d be marching to your death.”
I step in, barring an arm over Vallan’s bulky body to get myself in front of him. “We don’t need violence. Not now, my love.” My face whips to Cordea, scowling. “Were you given any notice for the breaking of our agreement? Any reason?”
“Only found out this evening you’re no longer allowed silver from the North Mines, princess.” Cordea keeps that haughty smirk on her beautiful porcelain face, and I want to smack it off. She loves winning, and I hate losing. “Like I said: Bring it up with the dandy liege.”
Over my shoulder, Vall speaks in a low, threatening voice. “This is a mistake you will come to regret, Cordea. Mark my words.”
We hike up the mountain before any violence can begin. On the way, Garroway sighs. “What shall we do? Not to put too fine a point on it, little honey badger, but this is catastrophic.”
I stare at the dark haze of the rocky ground, made purple from the moonlight overhead. “We’ll have to think of a new strategy. It’s not catastrophic unless there’s no way for us to obtain silver. We’re not there yet.”
It quickly appears there’s no way for us to obtain silver.
Liolen Sesk won’t see us. It boils my blood, because that means I can’t see Palacia, either.
I’ve completely lost contact with my friend and can only guess at how her life is going and how she’s being treated.
I knew it was a mistake trusting this bastard.
I should have never left Pala with them.
It took a month for them to break their word!
Fort Flittus is crawling with Aramastun’s guards, mingled with the overliege’s hired mercenaries. We don’t try to get too close, sneaking around the corners and using Garroway’s beast-charming from a distance to get some eyes on the phallic-shaped network of buildings.
“There’s no way in,” Garro sighs after he’s finished looking through the eyes of a nearby nightbird. “At least not without heavy fighting.”
Vallan growls and bares his fangs. “I’ve been itching for some blood.”
I put a hand on his bicep and squeeze, keeping him hidden in the shadow of the alley. “This is not the time to show our hand, Vall. We have to regroup and talk this over with Skar and Lukain. Maybe they’ll know what to do.”
“We’re only three, big brute,” Garro adds, coming to my defense. “We don’t want to die tonight. It would be pointless to charge in recklessly and would only further Liolen’s embargo against us.”
Vallan scoffs with derision. “Listen to you two, talking about recklessness. It’s a cold day in the afterworld.”
We creep out of the Commerce Ward, with Vall clearly feeling disgusted and furious. I say, “With Aramastun’s judgemen there, perhaps this isn’t Liolen’s doing. Maybe they are under lock and key by the Night Judge. Could Aramastun be making a move on the other Ministers?”
“Anything is possible,” Garro murmurs, stroking his smooth jaw. “If Liolen is held hostage, do we help them?”
Before I can answer, Vallan speaks up. “The Ministers don’t generally have jurisdiction to go into another Minister’s territory. It’s why Master Barnabac took it so poorly when we exposed Alacine’s spies in the Military Ward. The Spymistress’ assassins should have never been there.”
Garroway continues. “With Overlord Aramastun having outsize control over Olhav with the Military and Intelligence Wards in his grip, it doesn’t bode well for Liolen or Valenthia Yurlyth.
They must know they are on borrowed time.
” He grimaces. “How their potential civil war affects us . . . I don’t know. ”
I worry my lip between my teeth. I can only hope Skartovius has a sound answer, or possibly Lukain with his knowledge of the Judgment Ward during his time as his alias, Overseer Verant.
Because the Olhavian politics is beyond me.
I have no idea what to do in this situation.
Unless we do something that disregards Olhav altogether . . .
The idea comes to me quickly. “I don’t give a shit if Liolen is held hostage. But I do care about Palacia.”
“We can’t potentially sacrifice our entire cause for the sake of one halfkeeper, silverblood,” Vallan mumbles.
“I know.” My eyes narrow on him. “That would be . . . reckless.”
He grunts.
I feel their eyes on me, waiting for more, so I feed my baby birds. “So we go around them. Avoid the madness up here completely.”
“It’s a dangerous idea, little temptress,” Skartovius says. “Tempting fate and putting our secrets in the hands of humans? Baffling you’d even consider it.” He scoffs in my direction. I’m of the mind to slap the paleness off his face.
We’re in the Firehold’s main eating hall, sectioned off from the remaining Grimsons who are still awake. Across from us at two of the tables, Chained Sisters mingle with the Grimsons. They seem to be getting along well, which lifts my heart.
I turn my attention to my nobleblood, steepling my hands on the table. Skar is across from me, Vallan is next to him, while Lukain and Garroway are on my side of the bench.