Page 34 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

A reluctant smile pinched his mouth. “Oh, I doubt that,” he said, but his companion gave him a stern glance and he quickly sobered.

I cocked my head at the newcomer—a dour-looking man, older than most others I’d seen in Atrius’s army. His body didn’t betray his age as much as his presence did—worn, tired, beaten down.

“This is Rilo,” Erekkus said. “I’m needed in the offensive, so he’ll be watching over you.”

“Watching over me where?” I said. “Here?”

Erekkus looked at me like I was stupid. I wondered if he’d ever really understand that I knew when he did that. “Yes.”

Oh no. Absolutely not.

I straightened my back and clasped my hands. “I’d like to speak to Atrius.”

Erekkus actually laughed. “Atrius is extremely busy before an imminent attack.”

“I’ll be quick.”

“No. He’s not taking uninvited visitors.”

“I’ve had another vision. It’s very important. It affects the attack.”

Erekkus looked annoyed. “Bullshit. You’re lying.”

“Does Atrius trust you to decide that that’s true? I think he’ll be unhappy if he marches without this information, just because you made a unilateral decision you weren’t supposed to make.”

Erekkus was silent for a long moment, then cursed, turned around, and ripped the flap open.

“Stay there,” he commanded. Then, over his shoulder,he added, “I’ll ask, but I’m telling you, he’s not going to see you. He’s got better things to do.”

Atrius saw me.

He wasn’t happy about it, of course. I could sense his irritation even beneath that constant, powerful calm—though I suspected that was only because he was allowing me to.

“You take up a disproportionate amount of my time, seer,” he said, “considering that I have a thousand other people reporting to me.”

“Call me Sylina.”

I smiled. Atrius did not. It was difficult to charm him. Then again, I’d never been a very charming person.

“I would like to march with you,” I said. “Let me fight with you in Alka.”

Atrius didn’t even look up from his desk—if the makeshift stack of crates could be called that. “No.”

“I’m your seer. I’d be useful out there.”

“I’ve never seen anyone seer on a battlefield, and if they did, I think it’d cause much more trouble than it’s worth.”

He had a point there.

“I’m a trained warrior,” I said. “You yourself said the Arachessen are a force to be reckoned with.”

He lifted a lazy hand—gesturing to the camp beyond his tent. “I have a thousand warriors, and all of them are good. I have only one seer.”

It made it hard to argue with him when he was so thoroughly correct in his reasoning. I would make the same decision in his place. Any rational leader would.

I didn’t have to argue with him. I could sit like an obedient little prisoner in my tent, guarded by whatever-his-name-was, and then piece together the battle afterwards.

But I was here to gather information, and fast. What information was more valuable than seeing how they fought? I’d witnessedit once—it had been like a wall of water crashing over the shore, inevitable and inescapable. I had been distracted, though. This time, I needed to dissect their tactics. To do that, I had to be there. I could only learn so much after the battle ended, piecing the story together secondhand. Hyperbole and myths took hold fast.

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