Page 118 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

THWACK, as he stabbed the blade into the sand again.

“I don’t want to talk,” he said.

My heart broke for him. I knew that feeling so well. His soul screamed for his daughter—sitting this close, I could practically see the girl’s face.

I had read in my studies that many vampire societies, especially in nobility, resented their children—that they often killed or mutilated their offspring, viewing them as competition for their power. In the beginning, I had assumed that Atrius’s people were the same as all the others. Now, I was ashamed of that assumption.

Of course they weren’t the same. Atrius’s people had fought every injustice. They had nowhere to go. They banded together and found comfort in each other instead. Just as I had, long ago.

And now, they grieved just as I did.

“I’m not asking you to talk,” I said.

THWACK. Erekkus whirled to me, teeth exposed in a pained snarl.

“Then what the hell do you want?”

I laid my hand over his—around the hilt of his blade.

“I’m asking you to act, Erekkus.”

Beneath my touch, his knuckles trembled.

“I’m asking you,” I murmured, “to help us kill the bastard who took your daughter away.”

His jaw shook. His throat bobbed.

“Can you do that?” I whispered.

For a long moment, Erekkus didn’t move.

And then he stood, yanking his weapon from the sand.

“Yes,” he said.

The dawn wasdamp and humid. I was exhausted. The last two nights had been spent aggressively preparing for our imminent movement into the Zadra Pass. I’d been so weak I hadn’t even had a moment to steal away, even during the daytime, when Atrius would pull me away into his tent to discuss strategy with me. By the time he was sleeping, usually I was, too.

But today, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. I’d slipped out after Atrius had finally fallen asleep, creeping from the tent as silently as I could manage. I left him a note in case he woke before I returned—Gone for a walk. Be back soon.

It felt almost deceptively mundane for the situation we were in, even if it had been true.

I walked far beyond the bounds of camp, out where the terrain grew so rocky it was difficult to navigate. The mists were thick today, and the air hot. By the time I made it to a calm patch of water—a little pool left behind when the tide went out—sweat plastered my clothing to my skin.

I knelt beside the tidepool, my hands hovering above the water, laying flat against the surface. The threads of the water bloomed to life beneath my touch. I drew in a deep breath and let myself feel them—them, and myself, and the connection we had to each other.

It was, in the midst of everything else... oddly calming. It had been a long time now since I had meditated in practice.

I reached through the water, and its threads, and its connections, deeper and deeper and deeper—all the way to the Salt Keep. Its presence was always so recognizable even over great distances. For fifteen years, it had been the north on my compass, the one stable thing in an ever-changing world.

I had one more chance to mend that gap. One chance to convince the Sightmother that Atrius could be an ally. Or if not, one chance to make sure she believed in my loyalty, at least long enough for us to getthrough the Zadra Pass.

The seconds passed, and then minutes, and no one responded. Not the Sightmother, not Asha, and not the other Sisters.

That was... unusual.

I reached for it again, this time through a different combination of threads. Perhaps they didn’t sense me.

Again, nothing.

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