Chapter 46 | Skartovius #2
The girl shakes her head. Her sickly yellow hair has a new sheen to it, brighter than I’ve seen it, and she tucks it behind her ears.
“Not if he doesn’t know you’re there until it’s too late.
The overliege is paranoid of their own safety and rarely leaves Fort Flittus. I think that buys you some time.”
“Hm.” I clear my throat, nodding. “Thank you, girl. I think Sephania was right to trust you.”
The strange little woman nods to me, flicks her wrist, and sends me off. It’s something I used to do to people in my own manor, so I can’t fault her for it.
I return to my shadow portal, which is weakening by the moment, and walk through.
I don’t return to the Firehold, however. I land in the same area I sent Talma and Besho, deciding I can’t trust the two humans to do a nobleblood’s job.
I’m discombobulated and turned around after so much shadowwalking over the past hour, with my body feeling weak and my blood burning.
It doesn’t take long to find Manor Sirenchis tucked in among the trees and forest, hidden in a small valley of the eastern Peaks.
Rapping on the door, I wait, hoping Helget’s word is true.
She was one of Lukain’s Grimdaughters for a time before she was taken at my shadowgala to be Ferar’s and Godial’s broodstock.
I’m hoping she doesn’t hold any ill will toward me for sponsoring that event.
Maybe my brother would have been better suited for this job.
I can always play the diplomat. It’s a learned skill for noblebloods, and I have full confidence in my abilities.
One of Helget’s mates opens the door—either Eldis or Darrien, I don’t remember. He smiles cruelly at me, leaning on the frame, blocking my path. Blood stains his lips. “Welcome, Lord Ashfen. We were just having supper.”
That’s the third person who’s called me that tonight. I could get used to this. At the same time, my body tightens when I notice the blood between his teeth. “I pray the humans I sent here were not part of that supper?”
The demilord chuckles and waves me in, stepping aside. “Of course not. We have finer tastes than Nuhavian sewer rats.”
I’m tense when I walk in, expecting a sword in the back at any moment. The way Eldis or Darrien greeted me was not auspicious and it didn’t fill me with confidence.
This is a mistake, I tell myself.
It turns out it is a mistake, yet not for the reason I anticipated.
Helget, the other Eldis or Darrien mate, and Demilord Godial sit in the main eating chamber. The room is dark, lit only by three candles. Shadows play creepily across the vampires’ faces. Sitting across from them are two scared-pale humans, Talma and Besho, rigid as boards.
Helget hums to herself. “Skartovius Ashfen, former Lord of Manor Marquin. How good of you to join us. The young lady here was just telling us of Sephania’s request.”
“And?”
Two more figures walk into the room from another hall, shadowed at first until they step into the candlelight.
It’s Vanison and Indokkus Shirin, the human and vampire brothers, hiding out in Manor Sirenchis.
I sigh when I see them. Their smiles are just as cruel as the vampires’ smiles at the table. “Should have expected to see you two at some point. If you were smart, you would have left the Olhavian Peaks completely.”
Indokkus Shirin, the younger-looking older brother of Vanison, runs a hand over his pale face. “We have unfinished business, Skartovius.”
This man was a lieutenant in my court. For decades, he served me faithfully, carrying out my bloody orders and plans. Now I can’t look away from his crimson eyes because I don’t trust him enough not to throw a dagger at my throat.
Vanison, his human silvermith brother he rescued in extravagant fashion, looks withdrawn. Deep purple bags sag from his eyes, and he looks ready to drop from fatigue. I imagine he’s been having night terrors ever since his unlikely escape from the executioner’s axe.
Sitting at the head of the table, Helget steeples her hands. “We have agreed to help Sephania, as long as conditions are met. We can call upon a contingent of twenty vampires”—she snaps her fingers—“like that.”
“Quite good. What are these conditions?”
She turns her gaze over to Indokkus and Vanison. “You need only heed our allies, Skartovius.”
“I served you for a long time, Skar,” Indokkus says. “Lord Ashfen.” Probably calling me that out of habit, or to see if it hurts me when he rolls the words off his tongue.
Little does he know there’s been a handful of others who have already misused my title tonight. One more means nothing to me. “You did, Indokkus.”
“Then you’ll give me this? My brother is owed vengeance for the betrayal against him.” He smacks Vanison on the shoulder, who coughs in response.
I regard the vampire. “Ah.” Now I get it.
“The Silverknight,” Indokkus hisses. “Give him to us.”
“You want Captain Rirth,” I clarify.
“Let us kill the Silverknight commander without getting in our way, and we will help you in this little skirmish of yours.”
I mull that over. I don’t care about Rirth, but I know someone who does. And I do care about her. These are vampires asking me to betray my little temptress for their own greed and revenge.
It’s a tough ask. Even tougher to decide.
“Very well,” I say at last. Because emotion has never been my strong suit, and the aid of Helget’s vampires will logically be more useful than a single Silverknight.
Someone else can take Rirth’s place at the head of the knights.
“After you help us win the evening against Overlady Valenthia Yurlyth, I don’t care what happens to the Silverknight. You can kill him.”