Page 29 of Kept

I shook them off and strode forward, sweat streaming down my face as I struggled to keep my eyes open. It was hard. Every blink brought a thousand tiny needles of pain. The smell of my singed, cooking flesh filled my nostrils. In several places, my clothes stuck to my skin, the fabric melted into the muscle and bone underneath.

These discomforts were nothing. I could endure them. My people could not. The ordinary vampires of Nor Doru couldn’t survive without the Deepnight. The Sithistrans knew it, and they were going door to door, dragging merchants and townsfolk from the safety of the buildings into the streets. The humans must have been lying in wait, watching the city for any sign of weakness. Well, they’d fucking found it.

Hands clutched at me again. “We can’t save the city, Your Grace!”

“I know,” I growled without slowing or turning around. The city was lost. But I could still save my people. If I could lead them to the tunnels under the palace, I could get them to safety. Some might survive with blankets thrown over their heads. But we’d have to be quick moving to the city’s gates. The Sithistrans were everywhere with their mirrors.

And I was powerless against the sun. The bly’ad for “kill” hovered on my tongue, but speaking it would only kill one southerner at a time. I’d never felt the limits of my power so keenly. Had never felt so fucking helpless as humans marched through the streets and slaughtered my people with the sun.

Ahead, a tavern’s wooden sign hung over the street. I rushed to the door and shouldered it open. As I stepped over the threshold, a board swung at my head. I ducked, and the knights crowding the doorway behind me rushed forward, seizing a male in a stained apron and slamming him against the wall. He grunted painfully. Across the darkened taproom, shocked cries lifted from behind overturned tables.

“I’m sorry!” the male gasped, his eyes wide with shock as the knights pinned him. He fell into an anxious babble. “I’m s-so sorry, Your Grace! I d-didn’t expect to see you. I’ve got my two little girls here, a-and my wife. We tried to make a run for it earlier, but the sun was too bright, and the humans had mirrors—”

“Shut up,” one of the knights hissed. “Keep your voice down.”

“Sorry,” the male, who was obviously the tavern keeper, whimpered.

“Release him,” I ordered. As my knights complied, I looked across the taproom. “It’s all right. You can come out.”

Heads peeked above the tables. A dark-haired female and two young children gaped at me before turning their frightened gazes to my knights.

“My men will take you to safety,” I said, swinging back to the tavern keeper. “Do you have cloaks?”

He nodded vigorously. “Yes, Your Grace. Heavy ones. My wife has family in Wesyfedd, and we visit sometimes.”

“Good. Go get them, and then do everything you’re told.”

“Yes, Your Grace. Everything.”

I looked at the highest-ranking knight—a lieutenant from the Wastes. “Take two men and get these people to safety, Sir Stefan. Stick to the shadows. Even with the cloaks, they won’t be able to tolerate the sun for long.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” He pointed to two of the knights. “You and you. You’re coming with me.”

I motioned to the others and headed for the door.

“Wait!” the tavern keeper called out. When I swung back, his face was still frightened. But now there was bewilderment too—the dazed expression of someone who’s witnessed something they can’t quite make themselves believe. “Can’t you put the Deepnight back?” he whispered.

“You think you’re smart, boy,” my father’s ghost said in my mind. “But you’re weak. You’ll never be able to do the truly hard things.”

The tavern keeper swallowed thickly. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Go with the knights.” I looked at his wife and daughters, who were now huddled together in the center of the tavern. I pulled my glove off, nicked my thumb, and traced a glyph in the air. “The gods go with you.”

The female bowed her head and murmured her thanks in the ancient language of the Sanctum.

A knight opened the door, and I stumbled into the street, blinded not by the sun this time but by my own failure. It hung around my neck, its weight far heavier than the crown. Under my cloak, my scalp and shoulders blistered. Smoke rose from my arms as I moved up the street, the sound of clashing steel and men’s shouts drifting from the next street over. Vaguely, I was aware of the knights flanking me.

I should tell them to leave me and flee the city. I was leading them to their deaths. But the words died on my tongue. I needed these men. I had to save as many Lar Katerins as possible, and I needed the knights to guard the townspeople while they ran for the tunnels.

An anguished wail interrupted my thoughts. A female crouched in the street, her skin smoking as she clawed at something on the cobblestones.

I broke into a run. “Get up!” I yelled, panic gripping me. “Get out of the sun!” I reached her, my hands going to the ties of my cloak. As I prepared to rip it off and throw it over her, I noticed the shoes.

A pair of child’s boots lay in the street. There was clothing, too, and a pile of ash underneath.

“My Alex,” the female cried. Her hands shook, her fingers splayed wide like she wanted to grab everything on the ground. “He was right here.”

I fumbled with my cloak’s ties. “You have to get out of the sun.”

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