Page 61 of Vasmora

I knocked the tray from the servant’s hands, not bothering to look where everything had scattered over the floor.

A rough grip to the back of my neck sent a shooting pain up into my forehead, and I bit the inside of my cheek, desperate to keep from giving any sort of reaction when the captain’s gauntlet bit into my skin.

Loyce took two steps toward me. “Well, if you’re not going to eat, better that someone does.” She waved Melantha toward me.

Brows pinched, Melantha glanced between Loyce and me. “No.”

“Oh, I have grown weary of all this defiance.”

Swift as a gale, Melantha’s hands flew to her throat, eyes wide, throat grunting. Whatever had gripped her sent her collapsing to her knees, and she gagged, her face turning an unhealthy shade of purple.

Strange, how the place had changed my perceptions of suffering. How it’d coldened my empathy to such an extent that I was simply grateful it was her and not me in that moment. Of any of those captured by Loyce, she seemed to have suffered the least.

Loyce held up her hand, and Melantha dropped forward, catching herself on her palms, wheezing and coughing. Another moment, and she seemed to gather herself, her breaths long but calmer. She pushed to her feet, chin tipped up as she drifted toward me.

Before I could resist, the captain swiped up my ungloved wrist, holding it out to her like an offering. The finger he’d broken pulsed in agony, swollen and bruised in his grasp.

I glared back at the woman, as she approached with her eyes downcast, but I’d become so skeptical of my ability to die, I no longer cared. Death no longer seemed to be the worst fate I could suffer, after all.

Lowering her nose to my wrist, she inhaled deeply and gripped my arm.

I noticed a metal claw with ornate filigree covering her forefinger, not unlike my own metallic nails.

How badly I wanted to strike her in the face. To feel that perfect, flawless skin tear beneath my nails.

Her nose twitched, and she sailed me a look that wasn’t brimming with hunger or predation. It was as if there were some unspoken plan between us. “Her mortal blood is tainted. Fragile. I cannot drink from her.”

“Fragile blood … that’s new.” General Loyce sneered.

“Should you continue to require my … services, then you will provide a proper means of nutrition.” Melantha tipped her chin in disdain, and while I may have pondered what services she’d been asked to perform, I was far too preoccupied by the throbbing in my broken finger.

Loyce groaned. “Very well. Later, though. On to the alternative plan.”

As Melantha pulled away, she pressed the pointed tip of the metal into my forearm, and when I jerked back, she cut a line into my skin, sending blood trickling down my wrist to my palm.

A curse hissed through my teeth, and as the captain released me, I drew my arm to my chest, searching for explanation in her expression.

Again, she gave me a strange, knowing look, then turned away, drifting back to Loyce’s side.

Loyce stepped toward me, plucking her finger along the edge of a dagger. “I’ve grown weary of you, I’m afraid. These games we play are only fun if you can be made to suffer, and since you can’t, I find it boring. Though, I must admit, I do enjoy the challenge of trying to kill you. If you weren’t weak, you’d make a wonderful rival.”

“If you weren’t so foolish, I might also consider you a rival.”

Dagger drawn, she lunged at me, but stopped herself and smiled. “I was nearly willing to sacrifice one of my men just for the opportunity to stab your throat. But I've got something far more thrilling in mind.” She turned her head to the side. “Throw her into the pit.”

The order spilled out of her like ice, freezing the air in my throat.

“No!” Of all the voices in the room who might’ve protested, I did not expect Dravien to be the first. Damning the consequences, he yanked the dagger holstered on the soldier beside him, and fast as a snake, he jabbed it into the man’s throat. Blood poured from the soldier’s neck, armor clanking as he dropped to the floor.

Shouts erupted around me.

Dravien darted toward me.

The captain’s swift hands dragged me toward the edge of that massive hole in the floor.

Inspired by Dravien’s act of defiance, I dug my heels into the marble and clawed at his armor, twisting my wrist to get loose. “No!”

The ampoule.