Page 35 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

I wanted the truth.

The challenge would be coming up with a good enough reason to be there.

I let out a long, noticeably shaky breath, clasping my hands together tight. For a long moment, I didn’t speak.

It was an uncomfortably lengthy stretch before Atrius’s gaze flicked up.

“What’s wrong with you?”

So blunt. It was almost charming.

I ducked my head, as if embarrassed by myself.

“I—I didn’t lie to Erekkus,” I said, “about having another vision. But I confess I lied about the nature of it.”

“I’m shocked,” Atrius said blandly.

“I saw a vision about… myself. That the Arachessen would come for me the night of the attack.” I lifted my head, straightened my back, clenched my jaw—as if trying oh-so-very-hard to collect myself. “They don’t give clean deaths, commander.”

“So I’ve heard.”

I waited, shrouding my building annoyance. Given all this talk about how important a seer was to his mission, I expected the news of my impending death to be met with a little more urgency.

“So?” I said, after a long silence passed. “I can march with you?”

He set down his pen. Raised his gaze.

People tended to assume that Arachessen, given our condition, didn’t care about eye contact, but that’s false. Yes, I could sense a presence without ever turning my head toward them, but I sensed plenty more with a gaze meeting mine. It’s amazing what I could see when one extended a thread of their own. Most revealed more than intended.

Atrius’s stare was an exception. It felt like having your chin tipped up with the point of a dagger. Not an overt threat, but never losing the potential to become one with the mostminute movement.

“I’m—” I let my voice waver. “I’m ashamed to say that I’mafraid, commander. That’s the truth of it.”

“I’m not sure that I believe that,” he said.

I couldn’t help it—I was a little indignant. “You don’t believe that I’m afraid of the Arachessen? That’s just common sense, isn’t it?”

“I don’t believethat.” He jabbed his pen at me. “Thatlittle chin wobbling thing. Enough of the theatrics.”

My brows lurched a little.

This man. Full of surprises.

I gave him a small, conspiratorial smile, like I was letting him in on a secret joke.

“I’m sorry. A woman alone in this world sometimes needs to perform to make men take her seriously.”

Only a little true. Perform, or suppress. Rarely anything in the middle.

“It’s not helping me take you seriously.” He set down his pen and stood, crossing the room to stand before me. Once again, I felt like I was being examined—like any minute he might start critiquing my posture.

I straightened my back, as if to lift myself up to his height. A losing game, of course—I wasn’t short by any means, but he was very tall.

“But I promise you,” I said, more seriously—making sure to inject a little of that shame, that fear, into my voice, “that my fear is real. I can be an asset to you on that battlefield, commander. But I certainly can’t do anything for you if the Arachessen kills me first.”

He took me in, considering.

“You’ll have no bodyguards,” he said. “Every man and woman with me will be focused on their task and their own survival. I won’t ask any of them to put your protection over that.”

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