“Huh?”
I smile. “Suits me fine. My friend Maeve would love it. What do you make it from?”
“Fermented spiral cactus. It’s the only thing that’ll grow within our borders these days.” He looks at the bottle longingly.
I frown. “Well then, I hate to drink alone. Grab yourself a glass and help me out with this.”
The corner of his mouth twitches into a crooked smile, and a second glass, equally as smudged, hits the bar. I pour him a drink, slightly deeper than my own. “What’s your name?”
“Warbill,” he says.
“I’m Eloise.”
He takes a long, healthy swig. “Well, Eloise, had I known when I woke up this morning that a lovely young shade with more money than I’ve seen in a year was going to pay me to drink with her, I would have worn my good shirt.”
I grin. “It’s a good thing you didn’t. I’d hate for you to ruin your good shirt when you start a fire in that pit.”
He shakes his head. “Barely any wood left, I’m afraid. Have to save it in case one of the boys succeeds in luring something we can eat onto our lands. It doesn’t happen often, but it’s all we have left.”
I broaden my smile as my vampire hearing picks up Damien’s unmistakable gait heading toward the bar, along with the scent of blood. Warbill’s nostrils flare as he picks up the same scent.
His dark blue eyes spark with curiosity. “Who exactly are you, Eloise, and where do you come from?”
The door flies open as if kicked, and I quietly thank the gods it remains on its hinges. Damien lowers himself to fit through the door with what looks like a massive stag on his shoulder the color of fresh blood. My jaw drops. The beast has to be six hundred pounds. Its horns drag along the floor as my powerful mate strains under its weight.
“Where can I string him up, Warbill? We’re going to want to collect the blood.”
Warbill doesn’t move. He’s staring at Damien like he’s seen a ghost, his face ashen.
“Why isn’t the fire going? This stag isn’t going to roast itself.” Damien searches the rafters behind the bar for a place to hang his prize.
I place a hand on Warbill’s, and the touch seems to wake him from wherever he is inside his head. “Warbill, have you met my mate, Damien?”
Warbill stands up straighter. “There.” He points at a heavy silver hook hanging from the ceiling. “Haven’t had anything this large on it in a decade. Let’s hope it bears the weight.” He laughs and helps Damien to bind the creature’s back legs and string it up. They hook up a system to collect the blood.
I have to look away. Silly, considering I’m a vampire. Blood is how I survive now. It’s a reminder of how new I am to all of this that I can’t watch. But I do look back as Warbill fills a goblet and drinks deeply. The effects are drastic and immediate. His hair darkens. His skin smooths. His eyes grow lighter and clearer. It’s as if I’m watching him age in reverse. He drains the glass, shaking the last drops into his mouth. I get the sense he’s still hungry, but he does not take another. Instead, he gets to work starting the fire.
It isn’t long before the smell of roasting meat has the villagers slipping in the door. “It’s free today,” Warbill announces to each of them. “Compliments of Prince Damien.”
Everyone turns and stares at my mate, some crying out their thanks.
Damien’s fist lands on the bar with a resounding crack. Everyone goes silent. “I am no prince,” he says through his teeth as if he can’t stand the sound of the word. “Not of this kingdom. But the meat and blood are yours.”
14
Too Little But Not Too Late
DAMIEN
This isn’t my kingdom, and my brother isn’t a friend. I make my way over to Eloise through a sea of appreciative hands patting my back, my shoulders. Everyone is here. People cram into the cozy tavern, young and old, desperate to enjoy the stag’s blood and flesh. Even the man from the general store to whom I provided a smaller stag in exchange for the saddlebags holds out his plate. He is here, but his children and mate, if she is still alive, are not. I won’t blame him for saving my payment for his family alone. Not after seeing the hunger on his child’s face.
What I’ve provided today is too little, but for them, it’s not too late.
Ariadne is one of the last to arrive, and her eyes find mine through the crowd. Those knowing, accusing eyes. How is it the woman could always see right through me? She knows this is only a temporary comfort and that Bolvet Village will have the same problems it did yesterday tomorrow. I’m powerless to change anything. Still, when Warbill thrusts a goblet into her hand, she guzzles it with tears in her eyes. Her gray hair returns to the soft sand color it once was, and her sharp features fill out. Even in the threadbare dress she wears, the dressmaker recovers the straight-backed sophistication I remember. It’s the same way of carrying herself that my mother and sister once embodied. My chest feels tight as I tear my attention away and seek out Eloise.
“Are you hungry? You can feed from me if you wish.”
She laughs. “You do know that I will eventually have to drink animal blood. You can’t be my only source of nourishment forever.”
