Page 139 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

I felt no lie in her words. Nothing but kind compassion.

I had still been partly convinced that she was going to kill me. But perhaps I could chance the questions I most desperately wanted answers to, if I asked them carefully.

I setdown my silverware.

“I do have a question,” I said.

The Sightmother’s brow twitched over the ebony silk of her blindfold. “I’m sure you have many.”

“Why are you allowing me to do this when I disobeyed your orders?”

Her smile faded.

“Many people asked me, years ago, why I allowed you to stay at the Salt Keep,” she said. “Considering your age.”

Normally, every time someone mentioned the way I came to be here, I’d bristle with shame, like it was a terrible flaw being pointed out. Something unpleasant and bitter lingered on my tongue now, but it wasn’t shame. It was a different kind of anger, directed not at myself but at the Sightmother.

“The truth was that I saw such potential in you,” she said. “I saw... parts of myself, perhaps, in you. Even all those years ago. There can be beauty in what makes us unique. I sensed that what made you so could be a great benefit to the Arachessen.”

My hands shook slightly around my knife. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

It was what I had wanted to hear my entire life. That validation.

“It was always made very clear to me that my ten years before the Arachessen were a detriment to my position here,” I said, keeping my voice carefully level.

“In some ways. Yes.”

“But you never believed that.”

Another calm smile. “It isn’t so simple, Sylina. Something can be both a detriment and a strength. Suffering makes us strong. You, Sylina, have suffered so greatly. And you have grown so, so strong because of it—and because you had so much to prove. Complacency does not make anyone strong.”

I had to focus on keeping my breathing level. Needed to speak past the painful lump at the base of my throat.

Puzzle pieces, slowly, were clicking together, even though I hated the picture they revealed.

“Then you’ve done me a great service,” I said. “Just as you’ve done Glaea a great service.”

For a moment I thought I’d pushed too hard, mentioning Glaea, my implication clear. But I kept my presence still, all those feelings of love and loyalty and gratefulness at the front of my mind. And at last, the Sightmother inclined her chin.

“Complacency does not create strength,” she said again. “Not in you. Not in Glaea, either. You have fire, Sylina. Think of a version of yourself who was not forged in those flames. Think of how soft you would be.” She shook her head. “That is not what’s Right for this country.”

Right. As if this is what Acaeja wanted for us.

I put my hands under the table, folded over my lap, terrified they would betray me. I could control my presence, but damn if I could control those shaking hands.

“It’s... a shock,” I said. “The truth of the king.”

“I know. It will take time to come to terms with it.”

“How long…?”

The rest of the question faded into too many others:How long has the Pythora King been dead? How long have you been ruling over a never-ending war? How many deaths are on your hands?

My sister’s? My mother’s?

“Does it matter?” she asked.

Yes, I wanted to say.It matters more than anything.But instead I lowered my chin, as if to concede. “No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

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