Page 86 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

“Youtold me to grow familiar,” I said. “Just as you asked me for my recommendation.”

“And that recommendation is what, exactly? You haven’t fully said it.”

Too late to back away now.

“Abandon our mission to kill him,” I said. “Ally with him instead. Help him overthrow the Pythora King.”

“And crown a vampire king instead?”

I wasn’t ready to promise the Sightmother that Atrius would be a perfect king to this country. But I had seen the way Atrius cared for those who served under him. That was worth something. It was a rare quality in a ruler.

“He trusts me,” I said. Was that the truth? I didn’t know if I could make that promise, either—though the memory of his face in the firelight, just him and me, floated through my mind. “He could be guided. He respects the Arachessen’s power. We could help him. He could become?—”

“I told you that Acaeja disapproves of him and his mission.”

I struggled to fathom this. My entire life, I witnessed the worst of what the Pythora King was capable of. I knew it better than anyone—better than the Sisters who had been too young when they became Arachessen to remember life outside the Salt Keep. “Atrius is a vampire,” I said, “but the Pythora King is a monster. How can the Weaver possibly?—”

“Are you questioning her will, Sylina?”

The Sightmother did not raise her voice. She did not need to.

I closed my mouth. No matter how many years passed, her rebuke stung just as it had when I was a child.

“No,” I said. “No. I am not.”

The Sightmother’s stare and her grip on my presence didn’t let up.

“There is something else you want to tell me,” she said.

I resisted the urge to flinch. I had gotten spoiled having my thoughts to myself lately, and grown lax about guarding them. With the Sightmother’s disappointment still simmering in my chest, I wasn’t especially eager to humiliate myself even further. I was onlygoing to prove to her that I was what the other Sisters whispered about me.

And yet. I had to ask. Not just because the Sightmother already saw the shape of my secret, but because my brother’s life was worth my humiliation.

“When we marched on Vasai,” I said. “I met someone from my former life. Naro.”

The Sightmother had no reaction.

“He’s… he’s very ill. He was taken advantage of by Tarkan for decades. He has been addicted to Pythoraseed for years, and it has ravaged him. If the withdrawal doesn’t kill him, the drug will. But?—”

Until now, I had been successful at keeping my voice calm and measured. Here, a little crack slipped through before I could stop it.

“But Arachessen healers might be able to help him. They might?—”

“You’re asking to allow an outsider into the Salt Keep?”

The Sightmother’s voice was kind, as if comforting a child. But the harsh phrasing of the question hurt to hear, because I knew how it sounded.

The Sightmother stepped closer. Her aura wrapped around mine. What had been overbearing before now turned into an embrace.

I no longer cried after the damage to my eyes. But sometimes, I felt the symptoms of it—the prickling behind my eyes, the choked sensation in my throat.

“I could take him somewhere else,” I said. “And they could come to him?—”

The Sightmother took my hand. Her thumb rubbed it, back and forth, back and forth, the steady cadence of a heartbeat. She had done this since I was a child. At the time, I was so grateful to have such affection. I thought I would never feel a loving touch again. And in the Sightmother’s, I thought,This is it. I’m finally safe.

Now, for one horrible moment, I resented it. I resented it so fiercely I almost yanked my hand away.

“Sylina does not have a brother,” she murmured. “You know this. I know I do not need to tell you this.”

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