“It’s good we didn’t wait for a few more days. Then I might be too weak to use the outdoor shortcut and would havehad togo through the castle. Maybe I could’ve opened your door on the way.”
Ruvan rasps dark amusement and doesn’t rise to my bait, refusing to elaborate further on why I didn’t go within the castle and turning back to the altar. His bitter smile carries endless unsaid words.
“Good, indeed,” he says finally. “Let’s not waste any more time and proceed with our communion.” With an open palm, he motions for me to stand by his side.
This close to him, I can see every gnarled, ancient groove of his face. Bags hang underneath his eyes, folded down over his cheeks. Yet his eyes—for as horrifying as they are—remain bright and sharp. Clever. They’re the eyes of a hungry scholar…or a ruthless military strategist.
They’re nothing like the expressionless eyes of the vampire I’ve known.
The vampire lord faces the altar. “Blood of the old kings, bathed in moonlight,” he intones, bringing my attention back to his movements. He cups a goblet filled with thick, black liquid. I fight a cringe.
“Fresh blood of the descendant, freely given.” The vampire lord raises his hand to his mouth, and bites at the soft flesh around the base of his thumb. Equally inky blood drips out into the chalice. He speaks with soft reverence and moves with purpose, confident and strong despite the state of his body. “I bring forth the lineage of old, the king I have sworn fealty to, and the oath to my people on which to make my vow. I come before the place of blood lore’s origin, to pay homage, offer reverence, and empower my magic.”
He puts the chalice between us at the altar’s edge. Reverently, he hands me a silver dagger. “Blood must be freely given. A bloodsworn vow cannot be entered under duress, or coercion. You have to do this willingly or the magic will not take.”
“Your kind has no problemtakingit normally.”
“We always give an option for it to be handed over willingly,” he counters. I bark laughter that hammers on the cold walls of this cavernous hall. Give us an option? Does he really think I’ll believe that? Ruvan swells slightly, as though he’s trying to inflate himself like some predatory bird. “You mock me and my kindness.”
“You know no kindness,” I snap back. “How is any of this willing on my part?”
“You’re welcome to leave.” The words are firm, but his eyes are desperate, and almost…sad. It only makes me angrier. How dare he be sad in this situation after all he’s done to me and to my people?
“And die.” I shake my head and wait for the sour taste he’s put in the back of my mouth to pass. He seems as if he’s about to speak, but I cut him off. “Fine, yes, I’ll finish your bloodsworn oathwillingly. What must I do?”
The tendons in Ruvan’s neck strain. He forces through clenched teeth, “Offer your blood to the chalice and say you enter this vow of your own volition.”
I hold my forearm over the chalice and nick the back of my arm with the blade. Puncturing the skin of my palms would be foolish; it would prevent me from gripping effectively. One thing the forge has taught me is to preserve my hands.
“I enter the vow freely.” I barely keep the sarcasm from my voice as blood drips down into the chalice below.
“Say it like you mean it. Bind yourself to me.” The words are almost growled from deep in the back of his throat.
I inhale slowly. I have a lot of things I want to say to him. But pushing my luck before this bloodsworn oath is finished is likely a bad idea.
“In blood and body, I bind myself to you, Lord of the Vampires.” My voice starts strong and then fades into a whisper. A rush sweeps up my body and tingles the back of my neck, causing my chest to flush at the sensation.
As soon as I finish speaking, a rusty plume rises from the contents of the cup. It smells of blood and metal, yes. But it also smells somewhat…sweet? Like morning’s first dew just before the sun has risen. Perhaps even floral. Honeysuckle, perhaps? Orchid? It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anything related to vampire magic that didn’t immediately disgust me.
Ruvan lifts the chalice, holding it between us as he continues to pin me in my spot with his stare. “Place your palm on the other side.”
I do. My fingertips nearly touch the base of his wrist. Cool, sticky blood runs down the chalice between our hands. He still hasn’t healed? I thought that vampires could heal in mere seconds. I wonder if I could’ve killed him, if I should try. I quickly scan for anything that I might be able to use as a weapon, but there’s nothing, and Quinn still lingers as a solemn guard. He’d be on me if I took one step out of line. I’ve lived my entire life hunted within walls and yet I’ve never felt so trapped.
Did I miscalculate the risks and benefits of this oath? Everything is happening so fast.
What have I done?
“I vow that while you are in my care you will be a guest of Castle Tempost. All manner of protection and hospitality shall extend to you. None under my control shall bring you harm in the lands I protect.” His words are slow and deep with purpose. They sink into my marrow, as though I am being encased in the magical oath which he is forging. “And when you have fulfilled your vows to me, I will bring you back to the world where you belong. You shall return the way you came, free of harm.”
“And neither you nor the vampire under your control willevercross the Fade to attack humans again,” I add hastily.
He blinks, three times. His mouth curls into a slow smile, one more threatening than kind. “And neither I, nor any under my control, shall come to your lands to attack humans forevermoreoncethe curse has been broken,” he adds. “Now, your vow to me.”
“I vow to help you, however I am able, to break the curse on you and your people.” My mind whirls, trying to think of what else I might need to say. He seems to be asking for so little. But it can’t be that simple—
“And, while you do…you swear to not lay a finger in harm on me or any who are loyal to me.”
My muscles tighten. I work to keep my breathing slow and even. He had said this vow, once made, could not be broken—if it were, we would die. Which means, if I say these words, I will not be able to attack him without also attacking myself.
