Page 72 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

—And someone knocked me away.

My back struck the wood of the sofa, forcing the breath from my lungs, pain shooting through my spine.

Naro pinned me down, his chestnut hair falling over his face.

I snarled, “Get off me!”

“I can’t.” He shook his head, his face hardening, despite the wrinkle of confusion over his brow. “You can’t. You?—”

I do not have a brother.

Sylina does not have a brother.

I told myself this before whacking Naro across the face with the butt of my sword, sending him sprawling off the couch.

I leapt to my feet. Atrius had Tarkan against the wall now. It was the end.

Tarkan’s face was a mask of hatred—his presence vibrated with it. He knew death was coming for him.

“Fine,” he snarled. “See how my city?—”

But Atrius was not in the business of allowing final words to those who didn’t deserve them.

He now had Naro’s discarded axe in his free hand. With a single clean strike, he carved it straight through Tarkan’s throat. Blood spewed, painting graceful arcs across Atrius’s face, the carpet, the furniture. Some of it landed on me.

I swallowed a thick wave of envy.

Naro let out a ragged, wordless cry, charging for Atrius. I grabbed him and held him back, but he slipped my grip.

Atrius turned. His face was cold and unmoving.

He raised the axe as my brother—my stupid, foolish brother—ran straight for him.

You do not have a brother,a voice reminded me.

And yet, I screamed, “No!”

I threw myself in front of Naro. Atrius barely stopped himself before taking off my head. Naro tried to run right through me—whether to Atrius or to the mangled body of his dead master, I didn’t know. His presence was erratic, lurching in so many directions at once.

And yet…

It was him.Him. I didn’t know how to make sense of that. I didn’t know if I wanted to.

Out of sheer desperation, I braced myself against him and put my hands on either side of his head. I reached deep into his threads. They were tangled and broken, many of them consumed by the haze of drugs and pain.

I did the only thing I could: I sedated him. And after a few seconds, the tremors subsided. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

I stood there, hands still raised, breath shaking.

I had thought this would be a triumphant moment. And yet here I was, in the same room as Tarkan’s body, and I had barely evenlooked at it.

I felt Atrius’s eyes on me. The quiet was suddenly deafening.

I turned. He stared at me with a hard, questioning gaze, the gore-covered axe still poised in his grip.

What could I say? I didn’t want to show Atrius the truth. I couldn’t even admit it to myself. I was supposed to be hiding myself from Atrius—not showing him things that no one was supposed to see.

I reached for a lie and came up with nothing.

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