Page 51 of Vow of the Undead
Stasia huffed as she poured more steaming water into the tub. I stared at the foaming bubbles at the base of the miniature waterfall, turning over the possibilities in my mind.
The king had been hungry which skirted vulnerability, but Draugr never truly tired. What else would pitch him into vulnerability? The blood trail… If my clues were what he left behind, was his weakest moment when he killed? Or when he fed? Weren’t those one in the same?
With Stasia untying the ribbons at the back of the wrinkled dress I’d worn for nearly two days, I slipped free of it.
In the tub, the warm water enveloped me, easing every aching muscle with delicious, steamy comfort.
Stasia picked the weave of my braids apart and then soaked my hair beneath the water. Cupping my head in her hands, she allowed me to fully relax, where I could give my body to the water. As I melted into the warmth, sweat and oil washing away, my mind cleared.
Baths in Skaldir were rarely this soothing. Warm water didn’t stay that way long enough to soak.
Fully immersed with my head under the surface, the world around me melted away. Something about the protective water stripped away my senses and swiped away every worry.
Until Stasia lifted my head. My sharp intake of breath after sitting up in the chilled air was too loud, too sudden after having suspended in the quiet beneath the surface.
I peeled my eyes open and sat up. Droplets streamed from my hair down into the rivulets of my ears. I shook my head and twisted to meet Stasia’s eyes.
“So the Draugr?” I didn’t even form a full sentence because with Stasia’s casual way of speaking, our conversation felt as familiar as if I were joking with Ragna about Rolf’s balls.
“Vampire,” she said.
“What?”
“Draugr is a witch’s term. Vampire is their chosen title.”
I opened my mouth but didn’t have a response among my scattered thoughts. Clearly, Stasia knew more about them than I did. My heart lifted and every bit of energy that’d been stolen from me slowly buzzed back into my veins.
I straightened and squeezed the water from my hair.
“Tell me, do these vampires eat human flesh to survive? Or do they just get life from the entertainment of brutality?”
She smirked. “Ah, the speculations are wilder and wilder every time I hear them. But I guess I wouldn’t say they’re wrong.”
“So, they’re true?”
She shrugged and tucked her hair behind her ear before helping me out of the tub. The smooth stone was as slippery when wet as it was relentlessly cold. “Most of the courtiers prefer a cleaner way of eating. They simply draw the blood from your veins until they’ve had their fill. But I won’t say some don’t get messy with their food.”
“How can you talk so casually about it?”
Tapping her skull, she forced an odd smile. “Sanity, remember? Plus, I’ve served here for seven years, since I was fifteen. It's part of my everyday life. For now.”
“How many of them are there?”
“In Mara’s Keep? One hundred and nine vampires.”
My chest sank and breath caught in my throat. I tried to swallow but my mouth was too dry. Speaking through it felt like my tongue had transformed into cotton. “So every courtier…”
“Is a vampire.” She nodded. “Hey, look at you, New Queen is getting it all pieced together. You’re observant. It takes some of the newer servants years. Though most of them are fed on and you forget things when you’re missing so much blood, you know. Plus, vampires have a way of making their vessels confused so they don’t talk about it. Nobody beyond Mara’s Keep knows, unless they’re vampires or part of the Grimward. Vessels eventually waste away, but before that they’re too…” she paused and snapped her fingers. “What’s the word for feeling lost but like you were just hit over the head with a wooden spoon?”
“Dazed?”
“That’s it! Enchanted, dazed, in a trance.”
I frowned. Was Embla a vessel? Her pale face and gaped mouth suggested the worst. Who fed on her? If it was King Drakkar, I could both save her and get access to the runestones when I found him in his moment of vulnerability. Buthe’d shown obvious interest in the servant who always filled his goblets.
“Does every vampire drink from… a specific vessel?” I asked. The word tasted bitter. Calling a human a vessel felt akin to Astrid’s threat of making me a lifeless husk. The servant he’d claimed I was jealous of had a name. Thora was more than a vessel.
Tilting her head side-to-side, Stasia’s spiral tendrils danced over her face. “More or less. Most vampires have their favorites, but if they get hungry enough they’ll feed on almost anyone nearby. They have to let their vessels recover, or eventually they’ll run out of options, and vampires like their options. Kind of like us, we don’t want to eat the same food for every breakfast, midday, and supper.”
