Ryc leans closer, reading the letter over my shoulder.
“Tonight,” he says, turning to Cyran. “Sabien is willing to grant an audience tonight.”
With the flourished and curling letters of common tongue, it takes me a touch longer to read through the letter. There’s one sentence of the few that stands out.
I would be honored to receive you and Vestaris at Ashemere.
I.
Notwe.
“Seems Sabien will be meeting us alone,” I say, passing the letter to Ryc.
“Is that a concern?” Ryc asks in earnest.
Pulling myself to a stand, I cross the room, reaching for my wardrobe doors. They swing open on silent hinges, bearing the small collection of things I’ve squirreled away—my Moon Temple robes, a stack of handwritten notes upon the upper shelf, a black hair ribbon, and a handful of crystalline beads.
It’s a collection of tiny pieces from large moments in my short life among the living. I refuse to let them go. The pieces wouldn’t make sense to anyone but me.
But what I need, which is my armor, sits buried in the back.
“It’s concerning in that the majority of Indui’s Blessed are not interested in welcoming a Death Bringer into their home,” I reply, pushing some of the hanging robes aside to reach the shelves behind.
“Shall I advise Eve?” Cyran asks and his eyes meet mine as I turn away from the wardrobe, arms filled with armor and more suitable clothing.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Ryc and I speak at the same time.
My narrowed eyes fly to him. “Bringing guard makes a statement I’m not sure I want to make, Ryc.”
“Walking into a vampire nest alone isn’t an option,” he counters.
“Irequested this meeting. Bringing Eve and Cyran will be viewed as an offense.” I huff a sigh as I close the wardrobe doors with a hip. “Ryc, if I lose this opportunity…”
Jagged peaks of panic and rage sear through my chest with the thought.
“Going to Ashemere is a risk,” Ryc says as he approaches. “We’ve no idea what we’re walking into, no idea what to expect. We cannot ignore the possibility Vaelyn has been in contact with Sabien, especially if he’s invited to the Dark Hunt as you say.”
I take a steadying breath, emptying my arms onto the end of the couch. There’s undeniable logic in his stance, but…
“Indui’s Blessed are…particularabout mortals approaching them.” I hold his stare.
Ryc’s brows raise. “I think what you’re trying to say is we’re notviewed as anything more than game.”
I grimace.
But nod.
“If Sabien is offended and denies your request, we’ll find other avenues,” Ryc says quietly. He takes my hand. “We’ll go to Cerwiden if we must. We’ll find the answers we need with or without Sabien.”
“You’d leave Erus?” I ask, trying to mute my surprise. “Your duties? For months?”
“If it comes to that, yes,” Ryc answers, he traces small, slow circles with his thumb over the back of my hand. “Erus will not fall apart in my absence. It’ll be left in competent hands.” He glances at Cyran and nods once.
Cyran nods in return and retreats from the room, the door closing softly after him.
