“Shall I pinch your nose the way you pinched your brother’s?” Bran’s blood pours into my mouth, burning through my body. My wrist cracks again, the bones welding back together, and I cry out, the sound muffled against his skin.
He pulls his arm away, casually sealing his wound with the flick of his tongue.
It has been a long, long time since I last drank vampire blood.
Cool sheets. Warm skin. The sharp, coppery taste of my own blood as he kissed me like he would never let me go.
I push the memories away. My entire body is buzzing, my bruises gone. I’d almost forgotten just how miraculously vampire blood heals fresh injuries.
Bran smiles at me, my blood coating his teeth. “Delicious, hmm?”
Fury surges through me. Reaching for my water flask, I swish my mouth, spitting leftover blood on the ground between us. “I’ve had better.”
His eyes turn cold. “Some gratitude would not be unwelcome.”
I tuck my water flask away. “For healing the wrist you broke?”
He curls his lip at me. “It’s time to go.”
Bran doesn’t attempt to wrangle an invitation inside, and I slam the door in his face. In the kitchen, Carrick sits slumped at the table,Gerith and Evren waiting quietly across from him, canvas bags by their sides. They’re pale, shell-shocked. My heart twists.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell them. Ducking into my room, I search the back of the closet for the whispering mirrors I bought six years ago. The mirrors I bought because I missed Tiernon so desperately when he wasn’t around, I wanted to be able to talk to him daily.
My mouth floods with bitterness and I swallow it down, placing one of the mirrors into my bag, along with weapons and clothes.
“Don’t do this, Velle,” Evren says behind me. His cheeks are flushed, eyes bright, and he stands tall. Thanks to Bran’s blood, he looks stronger today than he has for months. Years.
I haul my bag over one shoulder and hold out my arms. He steps into them.
“It’s going to be fine.”
My brother shakes his head, burying his face against my shoulder. When did he get so tall?
“I don’t want you to die.”
I ease him away until I can look down into his face. Something in my chest wrenches at the devastation in his eyes. “I swear to you, I will do whatever it takes to stay alive, Ev. You’re going to go and get healed, and then I’ll come and find you.”
“Do you promise?” Gerith asks, leaning against the door.
“I promise. But if they hurt you—if they go back on their word—run. Look and listen for any opportunity you can. If you need to escape, go. I’ll find you. I’ll always find you. Promise me.”
Both of my brothers look spooked. But they promise.
“Did you talk to Leon?” Evren whispers, his brow furrowed.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m hoping he will come with me.”
“He’ll keep you safe,” Evren says, but his voice cracks. He meets my eyes, and I wrap my arms around him, squeezing tight.
Gerith’s gaze drops to my ankle, his eyes worried.
I wink at him. “I drank vampire blood.”
His nose wrinkles and he gags dramatically. I can’t help but smile. “My ankle feels better than it has in years.”
“But it’s not fixed.”
“No.” Vampire blood is miraculous for fresh injuries. But my ankle was never set properly by a healer all those years ago.
