Page 59 of Veradel
Thankfully, Soren doesn’t press me for details about what happenedbeforethat as Vivian wrinkles her nose at him from across the table.
“You know you’re supposed toeatyour eggs, not wear them.”
I have to agree with her. Lucan’s friends eat like… well, wolves, scarfing down everything in the vicinity as if chewing is merely a suggestion. I didn’t notice it before, while I was so nauseous that I couldn’t focus, but now I steal glances at the other tables around us: how the children practically inhale their breakfast, how Gabriel’s fork stabs his plate with enough force to break it—although that might be due to the death glares he shoots toward me whenever Lucan isn’t looking.
Soren looks down at his chest and shrugs at the bits of egg clinging to his shirt. “I call it a sexy scramble.”
“Where do you even get all your eggs, anyway?” I pipe up, imagining a bunch of poor mother birds flying back to find their nests empty. I’ve never actually seen an egg before it was cooked and pushed through the slat in my door, but I know from my schooling phase that wild birds lay them in little circular beds of twigs and leaves.
“There were plenty of farm animals here in this town before the Wall turned to stone,” Merrick answers, his arm around Vivian’s chair.
“Yeah, and Lucan’s mom has made sure to keep breeding and taking care of the chickens.” Vivian wipes at her mouth and gives a burp without looking even mildly ashamed. “It’s made breakfast the easiest meal of the day, because we don’t always have to hunt for it.”
“Unfortunately,” Soren adds, “the cows died out. Poor bastards.”
My gaze drags to Lucan, who’s already observing me with the same wonder that I’m observing everything else. As Vivian, Merrick, and Soren plunge headfirst into another conversation about cheese, I lower my voice. “Where does your mother live? I haven’t heard any chickens…”
Not that I even know what a chicken sounds like, but surely they chirp or croak or howl or something?
“Last house down the row, by the meadow.” Something indiscernible passes over his face. “She hasn’t liked crowds ever since my father died.”
“Well, then, she definitely wouldn’t like Xantera,” I half-laugh, picturing all the thousands of bodies crammed together during the Choosing.
And just like that, my mood drops again, especially as Lucan murmurs, “Veradel.”
“What?”
“Before the Guardians took over, our kingdom was called Veradel.”
“But Veradel—that’s your last name.” My mouth pops open before I snap it shut again. “The kingdom was named after you and your family?”
“No.” He presses his mouth in a firm line. “Wewere named after the kingdom. My ancestors took on the name Veradel as a reminder that we would always be tied to the people we were sworn to protect. The Guardians knew that, so they changed the name to Xantera—meaning ‘protector of the earth’—to mock and defile it even further.”
My hands tighten into fists in my lap. I shouldn’t be surprised that Arad and his fellow vampires would disrespect Lucan’s old kingdom like that, but it seems like they did a thorough job of squashing every part of the true history underfoot. I bite my lip, forgetting, once again, how sharp my new teeth are as the sting of their pointed ends makes me jolt.
“You okay?” Lucan asks, eyebrows furrowing.
“Yeah, I was just thinking…”
Around me, Vivian, Soren, and Merrick fall silent, obviously listening in, and even the rest of the room seems to pause mid-chew, as if they’ve somehow sensed the direction of my thoughts.
“When the vampires invaded,” I begin quietly, “they had the element of surprise, right? But there were still only thirteen of them, and how many of you?”
“Nearly one hundred,” Lucan admits. “But that’s including the children and those nearing the end of their millennia, like Taika. So half of them couldn’t fight anyway.”
Still. That was fifty werewolves to thirteen vampires, and the vampires still won. I don’tfeellike I’m stronger than Lucan or any other werewolf here, but how did so few vampires manage to best so many werewolves, even with the element of surprise?
Vivian lays an arm on mine. “You have to remember, Saskia, before the invasion, vampires were near myths to us. We knew we existed to protect our people from those monsters of legend—um, sorry, no offense—should they ever show up on our doorstep, but we’d lived for generations peacefully, mingling with and protecting humans without incident.”
Lucan nods. “My grandfather had no way of knowing how a vampire fights or moves. We knew nothing about your speed or agility.” His eyes skate down my body for a brief moment, and I know he’s imagining our clash in the woods, the way the very ground quaked at how we came together. “Until now.”
“Well, that’s just it, then.” I scoot my chair back and stand up, feeling Gabriel tense as if I’m poised to attack him. But I don’t even spare him a glance as I smile at Lucan and extend my hand. “I think it’s time you all learned how to fight a vampire.”
Vivian looks downright gleeful as Lucan and I circle each other in the meadow behind the old church.
My steps are light, but for some reason, I feel no need to match Lucan’s stance. He stalks me in his werewolf form with his chest nearly brushing the ground, ready to pounce at any moment.
Scared to attack first, baby?I taunt him, even though I’m the one with nerves fluttering through my belly. Why did I even suggest this? I’ve been a vampire for a grand total of what… three days? And Lucan has been a werewolf for centuries. He’ll probably have me by the throat in no time.
