Page 138 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

I thought instead of the Sightmother as the person I had so admired for the last fifteen years. I thought of the possibility oflosing her, and my Sisterhood, forever. I let myself feel that unease, instead. An acceptable emotion to let her see.

“Yes, Sightmother?” I asked.

“Get dressed,” she said. “Your gown. Then come join me in my dining room.”

My dining room.She was inviting me to her private wing, in the upper levels of the Keep. I’d only been there once, and briefly. Few were allowed.

I wasn’t sure how to ask this question.

“Are the others?—”

“No. Just us.”

I couldn’t decide if I was grateful for that or not.

The Sightmother gave me a soft smile. Maybe I was looking too somber. “You are going to meet a goddess today, Sylina,” she said. “This is a gift most never get.”

Weaver, I felt sick.

But I returned her smile.

“I’m honored,” I said, and made myself believe it to be true.

She nodded back into my room. “Get ready. Be in the dining room soon. We don’t have much time.”

Every Arachessen had a single gown that was many times finer than anything else she’d ever worn. Usually, it was gifted to us on our eighteenth birthday, and then sat untouched in our closets for years after that. The gown was intended for one purpose alone: to be worn in the presence of our Lady of Fate, Acaeja.

Most never got the opportunity to wear their dresses. Actually, as far as I knew, none of my Sisters ever had.

Mine was red as blood.

The bodice was made of beaded lace, and the skirt of flowing silk chiffon. The hem where the bodice met the skirt was decorated with a series of tear-shaped beads, which were intended to resemble flower buds but now just seemed like drops of blood. The neckline wrapped around my throat, exposing my shoulders, with chiffon sleeves that dangled down my arms.

I could sense all these factual aspects of the dress, just as I couldsense that it was incredibly well-made, certainly worth the large amount of money that had been spent on it. I couldn’t quite know how I looked in it, or if it was as lovely in that intangible way as it seemed like it would be.

As I brushed my hair and put on a fresh blindfold—red that perfectly matched my dress—I wondered if I looked beautiful. There was a certain appeal to leaving behind a pretty corpse.

Whatever the Sightmother was able to sense of my appearance, she must have been pleased, because her smile was one of genuine pleasure when I joined her in the dining room. She wore her gown as well, teal blue, just as ornate as mine. The room was large, the ceilings high and made of glass, revealing the red dusk of the sky above. But the table at its center was small, designed to sit no more than five people. Today, it was only set for two.

She gestured to the place setting across from her, and I sat down.

The food smelled incredible. I didn’t realize until now exactly how long it had been since I’d eaten fresh cooking.

The Sightmother sipped her wine glass. “Eat,” she said. She’d already started on her own meal, her steak half-gone. “You’ll need your energy tonight.”

I had no appetite. I daintily cut the meat and took a bite anyway. It was perfectly made, but tasted like ash.

“Thank you,” I said. “It’s very good.”

A waste of words. I had so many questions to ask. Some, I might be able to. Others were far too dangerous.

“It’s alright,” the Sightmother said softly.

My knife stopped moving.

“What, Sightmother?”

“I sense your fear, Sylina. There’s no shame in fear. I was terrified the first time I met Acaeja.”

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