“The untapped power in your blood that your ancestors never did.” Ruvan smirks slightly. He’s smug. So self-satisfied that I might be fascinated by something in his world. I stifle my musings. Those will be for me alone.
“Of course not. I’m no vampire and I don’t want to have anything to do with them.”
“Oh? Being bloodsworn to one certainly is ‘anything to do’ with a vampir.” His smugness intensifies.
“This is an arrangement, nothing more.” I ease away from the mirror, fastening my armor all the way. I wish I could tighten down my racing thoughts with the same effectiveness.
“Yes, of course.” Ruvan turns for the door. “Now that you have seen your quarters, I will introduce you to the rest of my covenant.”
“Your covenant?”
“Yes. My loyal knights—those who have sworn an oath to me, to this land, and to our kin. My own group of hunters, if you will.”
“Are you sure you want to? No longer worried about my sharp tongue?” I’m not sure I want to meet them. I would be very happy to hide in this room as long as I’m able while I try and catch my breath. So much is changing and I’ve hardly had a chance to keep up. “Besides, what will they say when they discover that their illustrious vampire lord has made a deal with their sworn enemy?”
“Do you question your hunter lord?”
I purse my lips. I’ve no idea what happens in the fortress and that makes answering dangerous since I still don’t know how much information these vampires have about Hunter’s Hamlet or where they got it from.
“I thought not.” He opens the door. “Now come.”
We backtrack through the doors and past Quinn, who waited dutifully. The hall is slightly noisier now; the chatter of multiple people echoes above the plucking of what sounds like a fiddle. Even though the mezzanine of the room is high above, I can almost make out every word spoken—something I’m certain I wouldn’t be able to do before becoming bloodsworn.
Yet another reminder of what I’ve done and how I’ve changed. It was the right decision, I try and remind myself. But my internal voice is weaker than before. Nothing feels right. My own skin is uncomfortable and my senses play tricks on me. A seed of loathing works its way into me for my own blood. For the power that has always been there but I never wanted, never asked for. At most, I wanted to keep my family safe and maybe see the ocean with my brother.
How did I end up here?
“They’re bolder than before,” a man grumbles.
“Bolder. Stronger. More stubborn time after time,” another man with a soft, dreamlike voice adds.
“At least we have their blood,” a woman says lightly. That’s when it hits me with an icy chill: they’re talking about Hunter’s Hamlet. My ears begin to ring to the point that I barely hear the rest of their conversations, as if my body is physically trying to block them out.
“Precious little given freely,” the second man laments. “We’ll have to purify the rest as we’re able.”
“Purify? Blood by force is rubbish,” the woman mutters.
“I’ll do my best,” the soft voice says.
The plucking pauses. “Will it be enough?” A second woman.
“It will have to be,” Ruvan says as we descend the staircase that wraps around the back of the hall, connecting the mezzanine to the meeting area below.
They’re all on their feet the instant they see me. I swallow thickly and focus on my feet to keep myself from tripping. I am a hunter right now, not the forge maiden; I will not allow myself to show my fear. We lock eyes with each other and the air goes thick, as it does right before a fight breaks out.
