She shakes her head. “Too risky. He defected from her coven. They would arrest him, and we’d never see him again. Not fair to him or us.”
“Then how do I get in?”
“There’s only one sure way to gain safe passage into Night Haven for a human.” Sabrina closes the box and smooths her hands over the top.
“And that is?”
“You were brave to come here. You might not have magic like a witch, but you have courage like a shifter. I see it in you. You’ll do what it takes.”
I wait. “What will it take, Sabrina?”
She sighs. “You’ll have to pose as a human blood donor.”
Cassius appears in the open doorway, shaking his head. “I would never question your wisdom, Sabrina, but after tasting her blood, are you sure that’s a good idea?”
She folds her arms. “Oh yes. I’m sure of it.”
“Damien told me her blood was… different.” He frowns.
“It is. The dragon blood in her veins is slightly intoxicating to vampires. Her blood is more though. I only had a drop, but it was like nothing I’d ever tasted. Absolutely delicious. She’ll be in high demand.”
“She’ll be drained before she has a chance to make it to Valeska.” Cassius doesn’t raise his voice, but it’s the strongest statement I’ve heard him make since we met.
I hold up a hand to interrupt. “Just so we’re clear, you’re proposing I pose as a blood whore—a human who donates their blood to vampires in exchange for money—until I can get close enough to Valeska to challenge her?”
“Precisely,” Sabrina says. “If you go in under the protection of a madam, you’ll be safe until you have time enough to plan a way into her presence. And you’ll donate to the customers until the next time Valeska appears in public. Perhaps there will be a festival or she’ll allow her people to petition the throne as I did today. Then you get close to her and you challenge her.”
“And then try to survive the trials,” I mumble.
“I can’t encourage you to do this,” Cassius says, that ever-present smile of his completely gone from his face. “If Damien knew we were even considering selling your blood?—”
“Last time I saw Damien in his dream, he was dying. Valeska keeps him inside a tower of sunlight with no shade. He’s dehydrated and sunburnt. His skin is as white as a stone.” I meet Cassius’s eyes. “There are holes in his wings where the sun has burned through.”
Cassius inhales through his teeth.
“Damien asked me to let him die. He wanted to set me free. But you know what? The truth is, it doesn’t matter what Damien wants or hates or approves of. It’s my blood and my decision. I refuse to give up on him. I refuse to cast him aside. I’m getting him out of there, and if I have to donate a little blood to do that, I will.”
Sabrina claps her hands together. “Then the decision is made. I have a feeling about you, Eloise. I predict you’ll be back here with your mate someday, celebrating your win.”
How I hope that future can be. I am no warrior. I can barely do a single push-up. Just because the challenges are possible for me doesn’t mean I’ll be able to win them.
“What happens if I don’t win?” I ask, suddenly acutely aware that’s a possibility.
Sabrina’s perfectly manicured hand presses into the space at the base of her throat. “I thought you understood. Provocationem Ad Mortem means challenge to the death. The player who fails dies.”
17
Plaything
DAMIEN
After so many weeks baking in Valeska’s sun-drenched dungeon, you’d think a soft bed in a dark room would be a relief. Only, the reality I’m living now is far worse. I’d willingly return to the silo if I had a choice.
Valeska has me chained to her bed by the neck. It seems Tae was significantly weakened when I wounded and possibly killed Lang. I don’t know if the twin is still alive, but I’ve only seen Tae since the incident. A collar, it seems, requires far less magic than a silo and offers me no shade or comfort, not even from my own wings. Valeska was smart not to cuff my wrists or ankles. I would chew through my own arm or leg to be free of her at this point. The neck is painful. The neck is degrading. The neck requires suicide by beheading to escape.
I’ve tried. Thrown my entire weight against the burn in an attempt to snap my own neck. Turns out I’m too weak to even off myself.
No matter, without blood or Eloise’s energy, my death will take care of itself. I’m in constant pain now, my stomach trying to eat itself from the inside out, my blood like broken glass in my veins, my tongue a leathery stump, my eyes too dry to open. My head throbs. My heart aches with each laborious thump. I’m always cold.
