Page 62 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

I did. This time I didn’t choke. I took one gulp, then another, and then I was throwing my head back and drinking the whole thing while water ran down my chin.

By the time I finished, the world had fallen back into place, though my heart still felt like it was about to fracture my ribs.

Atrius still held onto my shoulders, watching me with a thorough, assessing gaze. I nearly jumped when his hands fell to mine, gently closing around them—noting the wounds.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

I didn’t want him to feel that. I extracted my hands from his grip and folded them in my lap.

“I’m fine.”

He stared at me. I wondered if he was waiting for me to scold him for pulling me out of a Threadwalk—again. I should have. It was dangerous.

But I couldn’t bring myself to. Not when I was secretly grateful he had done it.

“What did you see?” he asked. His voice was low and heavy, like he knew the significance of what he was asking.

The truth still pulsed through my veins, too powerful to acknowledge. I couldn’t give him all of that. Too vulnerable. Too close to parts of myself that were supposed to be gone.

“It’s going to be bloody.” I stood and immediately regretted it. I just wanted to put more space between Atrius and me, so he would stop looking at me that way.

I leaned against a broken tree trunk more heavily than I hoped was visible.

“There will be steep losses if you attack Vasai,” I went on. “Lots of blood will be spilled.”

“Whose blood?” he asked. “My soldiers’ blood?”

This question, reasonable as it was, speared me with a sudden bolt of rage.

“Bloody for everyone,” I snapped.

“So you saw our defeat.”

My jaw clenched.

I couldn’t risk lying to Atrius again. If it was my own decision, I might take the risk. But the Sightmother had given me a direct command. I was not to sabotage him further.

Yet I couldn’t bring myself to answer his question.

The non-answer, it seemed, was answer enough. Atrius exhaled.

“I see,” he said.

He sounded a little relieved, and in this moment, I utterly despised him for that.

“The Pythora King’s warlords are not above using civilians as their shields,” I said. “You saw that in Alka.”

His eyes hardened. A faint echo of disgust shivered through his presence.

“I did.”

“You thought Aaves was bad? Aaves was a lazy nobody who stumbled onto his throne through corrupt incompetence. Tarkan is far, far worse.”

Atrius’s eyes narrowed. “You believe he needs to be treated as more of a threat.”

He sounded skeptical. Atrius, I had learned, was somewhat arrogant when it came to the skill of his military force.

I knew, logically, I couldn’t fault him for looking at all of this through that lens. Yet I resented him for it.

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