Page 148 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

The little strip of silk fluttered to the ground.

I opened my eyes.

Arachessen were never without their blindfolds, not even in sleep. The air was cold and foreign against my eyes. My eyesight had been destroyed long ago. I had never even tried to examine the scraps of whatever remained.

But I could see Atrius.

Barely—just a little. I could make out the shape of his form, blurry and silhouetted, and the dim suggestion of his pale skin and silver hair.

Almost nothing. And yet, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever witnessed. Beautiful in an intangible way that made me think of scraps of paint flyingout over the sea.

It is the sea.

I opened my mouth to say something—wasn’t even sure what—but what came out was only a garbled sob.

Atrius nodded, as if he still understood exactly what I meant, and he cradled my face between both hands. I closed my eyes, and he kissed one, then the other, catching the beginnings of tears on his lips.

His presence surrounded me, warm and stable and firm, such a perfect mirror of my own, scars and all.

I choked out, “I’m not afraid of death.”

But I am afraid of this.

Atrius, of course, already knew.

“Me too,” he murmured, the words warm against my lips, and I wasn’t sure who moved first, only that our kiss was long and fierce and brutally honest with all the words we didn’t say.

My arms wrapped around him, and his around me. Our bodies intertwined. All lies withered in the space between us.

I kissed him and wept and kissed him some more, and I was so happy, I couldn’t even be terrified.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Istood in the gathering room alone for a long time before the Sisters were brought in.

First I walked through it without my blindfold, reminding myself of the differences between the version of myself now and the one who had last sat at this table. Not that I could see much of anything with my eyes in a room this dark, not even shadows. Still, there was something about feeling the air here on my open eyes that brought me clarity.

I had been dreading this meeting.

Atrius had first suggested it a week ago, and though he was the first one to voice it, I had been turning the idea around in my mind from the day I woke up in this new, infant version of my kingdom’s new life. With the Sightmother dead, the Arachessen was a scattered and headless organization. The Sightmother’s two oldest advisors, the only holders of her secret, had been killed when they foolishly attempted to recapture Atrius after the gods departed. But the rest of the Sisters remained here, in the Salt Keep. Atrius’s men had captured most of them during his initial takeover, though some who had been away on missions hadn’t been heard from since. They’d been treated well, though guarded very carefully, since then, while Atrius and I dealt with the immediate pressing needs that went along with taking over a kingdom.

But I knew I would have to come back, and sooner rather than later.

Every time I had sat at this table, I had felt so exposed—deeply connected to my Sisters and ashamed of what that connection might unwillingly reveal. I loved my Sisters, or at least I thought I did. Now, I pitied that version of myself, for whom love meant hiding so many different aspects of herself.

Yet maybe some of that girl still lived in me, because I broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of sitting at this table again, irrationally afraid of what the others might see in me.

Atrius, of course, had sensed my anxiety last night, as I tossed and turned in bed. He’d pulled me against him, curling his body around mine, and grumbled into my hair, “They’ll listen to you. If they don’t, we’ll just kill them all.”

I’d been grateful for something to laugh at, even though I wasn’t actually sure that he was joking.

I felt the pressure of this meeting. That much was indisputable. But now that I was standing here in this room, the pressure was just the same pressure I felt before any of the many diplomatic meetings I’d had in the last few weeks. I had expected that this room would feel magical in some way. Blessed. Like it saw too much of me.

But I had already witnessed that—when I stared into the face of Acaeja herself.

I witnessed it every time I was in the presence of Atrius.

This? This was just a room.

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