Page 47 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

Then a sheet of cold rage fell over his gaze.

“What are you talking about?” he snarled.

I’d just made a huge mistake.

“You didn’t let me complete my Threadwalk,” I said, carefully. “You stopped me. Because you didn’t like the… grounds upon which I tread.”

“Don’t seer about me.”

I raised my palms a little more. “I know. But because you stopped me, you didn’t get the full truth.”

His throat bobbed. He looked genuinely torn as to whether to kill me or not.

“What did you see about the prophecy?”

I smiled sweetly at him. “I’ll tell you if you promise not to kill me.”

“I don’t make those kinds of promises.”

“I’ll take a lowered sword.” I wanted that thing out of my face. It was still covered with the guts of Aaves’s goons. What an insulting way to die.

He ceded. Barely.

I leaned back against the wall.

“Tell me,” he demanded. His shoulders were heaving in a way that I suspected had nothing to do with the exertion of the last several hours, which didn’t seem to bother him until now.

I noted this carefully—this prophecy. The mountain. Nyaxia.

The prince.

All these things were very important to Atrius. The only times I had ever witnessed him upset were when they were mentioned.

That was useful.

“The truth?” I said, raising my palms in concession. “Maybe it’s a mistake telling you this, but what I know is vague. Only that it exists. I sensed it in my Threadwalk. After I saw… you. If you won’t take my head off for making that reference.”

Atrius didn’t take my head off, but he still looked like he was considering it.

“I know you have a greater mission,” I said quietly. “I know this is about more than just conquering for you. Even if not, I can’t offer you the specifics. Not without your cooperation.”

Weaver, I was pushing it. And yet, somehow, even as the words flowed over my lips, something deep inside me thought… perhaps they were true. Therewasmore to this than Atrius was showing me.

His face shifted, revealing so little and so much—all but confirming my suspicions.

“What benefit do I have in lying to you, Atrius?” I murmured. “Either you kill me, or theArachessen will. To be honest, I would prefer you do it.” My toe nudged one of the bodies on the ground. “At least you’re swift about it.”

“Only sometimes,” he said.

He was deep in thought, sword still hanging at his side—staring at me hard, like he was trying to take me apart.

I chanced taking a step closer. Tipped my chin, cocked my head. I had no big beautiful eyes to bat at him, but I knew the body language—curious, innocent, submissive.

“If you want to know more about this—this prophecy, I could Threadwalk again and?—”

“No.”

Just as swiftly as he’d drawn his sword, he sheathed it. The tension broke. He turned away. It was as if he’d never considered killing me at all.

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