Page 56 of Entombed By Blood
“You’re early.”
I’m not. It’s a trick, one designed to put me off kilter. “I apologise.”
“Sit.”
I move to the armchair in the corner, tracking his movements with my eyes. Eventually, he stopped pacing and headed for the bar in the opposite corner, pulling the elaborate stopper from a decanter of blood and pouring two glasses before handing one to me.
No silver this time. Just plain mortal blood—Cain’s favourite.
“You’re aware I ended your punishment early. I intended to leave you for at least a century more.”
“I expected as much,” I say, taking a sip. “May I ask why?”
“Because we are facing a cunning enemy. One who foolishly planned to try and use you against me.” Cain scoffs, like the idea is offensive. “One who planted soldiers among my elite and thought I wouldn’t know.”
“Who?”
Cain waves the question away. “They’ve been putting pressure on my forces for decades, ensuring I was put in a position where I had to bring you back. They believe you can be turned and used against me for a second time, but you and I both know who you belong to.”
I nod, fear clenching my gut. “Tell me who, and I will gut them, sire.”
Once again, being his executioner is the only way to prove my loyalty, and the idea sickens me.
“Your four thralls.”
I should be surprised, but I’m not. Some part of me always knew that my thralls were hiding things, chief among them, the other two bonds. The ones that… Cain hasn’t mentioned.
He doesn’t know about them.
Should I tell him? Can I afford not to? My heart beats wildly in my chest as I struggle to think about what to do with this information, but my mouth instinctively forms the words Cain wants to hear.
“Give the order, sire. I’ll kill them myself.”
Cain takes a sip of his own blood and lowers himself into a chair opposite me. “I want their leader’s head. Morwenna has been hunting this pathetic resistance without success for years, but you will have no trouble infiltrating their lair. They’ll take you in, poor, traumatised little Evelyn. You’ll learn everything they know, then you will strike.”
How can he seriously be considering this? Cain doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t trust anyone, but I’ve only been out of my coffin for a week, and in that time he’s poisoned and tested me mercilessly… to make me seem weak, I realise. To make the thralls—and their mysterious leader—pity me.
This whole thing has been calculated with my sire’s trademark thoroughness, which means he must have some plan to ensure my compliance.
“Yes, sire.”
“Do this, Evelyn, and Imogen will be released.”
There it is. His insurance policy.
My heart aches at the memory of the last time I saw Immy, curled up in pain on a cold floor, awaiting my awful fate. She was innocent, and he knows it.
“How should I proceed?”
Cain stands, abandoning his glass and heading to a cabinet on the wall. He withdraws a familiar blade from inside and removes the scabbard to show it to me.
My sword. The one he gifted to me when he turned me centuries ago. The blade is still sharp and edged in silver on one side and steel on the other. Making it the perfect tool to kill mortals and immortals alike.
“You will execute your thralls for betraying me. Without their spies keeping track of you, the resistance will move up their plans to extract you while you’re vulnerable. You’ll have proven your loyalty to me, so I will leave you without guards, making you the perfect target.” He holds out the graceful sword, and I stand to take it from him, feeling it sing as I test the balance.
It’s a poor distraction from the way my soul has withered at his words. He wants me to kill them. Expects me to do it without question.
I’ve only known them for a week. We’re basically strangers.
