“Which means, tomorrow, we’re headed into the old castle,” he declares.
Worry and apprehension flash in their eyes. I think back to the dark windows Quinn and I avoided. “What is the old castle?” I dare to ask. None of them seem prepared to answer. A few open and shut their mouths. Finally, it’s Ruvan who speaks.
“The place where the rot of your curse festers. Where you will see the true horror of what your dear hunters have done to our kind.”
CHAPTER11
“To descendinto the old castle, you’re going to need your strength,” Ruvan continues. “So you should eat while you’re able.” He looks to the rest of them. “Have you all had your fill?”
“Yes, but there’s still some left,” Lavenzia says.
“Hold on, I’ll get it.” Winny hops up and dashes down the hall, quickly returning with food—normal, human food—that she sets on the table.
No matter how much of a hard exterior I want to project, my stomach betrays me with a mighty growl. Ruvan startles, eyes swinging my way. He’s the only one who seems to notice and, much to my surprise, doesn’t draw attention to it.
Instead he says, “Please, help yourself.”
“So I can eat the poison?” I counter.
He sighs heavily. “It’s not poisoned. I couldn’t kill you if I wanted to, remember?”Ifhe wanted to, as if it hasn’t been the primary thing on his mind this entire time.
“You might not be able to, but she could.” I point to Winny, who’s procuring eating vessels and utensils. She blinks several times, startled to suddenly be the subject of my attention. “I’m not bloodsworn to her.”
“They’ve sworn their own oaths to me and I swore none under my command may harm you. No one will hurt you.” There’s an impatient edge to Ruvan’s voice. “Now,eat.”
“Yes, my lord.” I force the words with every stone of displeasure that has sunken to the pit of my stomach. Winny bringing over the cutlery gives me an idea.
“She isnotsitting with us,” Ventos grumbles.
“Let her sit,” Lavenzia counters lightly. She rests a hand on Ventos’s large forearm. “You’re going to have to fight alongside her come morning. I think that’s far worse than sharing a table. You might as well grow accustomed to her presence sooner rather than later.”
Ventos glares at Ruvan but says nothing else.
“I have no interest in sharing your table,” I say plainly. “We have all made it quite clear that this is a tenuous alliance. I am not one of you and I have no desire to be. I will eat on my own and we will interact as little as possible.”
“At leastyouhave some sense.” It should be a compliment, but the way Ventos says it makes it clear that he doesn’t think humans have sense in general. I ignore the offense and focus on the meager spread before me—salted pork and pickled vegetables.
I know hardship when I see it. There’s generally enough to go around in Hunter’s Hamlet, thanks to everyone living such regimented lives. But there have been times of bad drought, or heavy rains, that have limited our food stores to the point of aching stomachs. Why is the lord of the vampires eating the food of paupers in an empty, decrepit hall with only a few knights at his side?
It’s one of many questions, but all I can seem to muster to ask is, “Vampires eat regular food?”
“What else would we eat?” Quinn asks.
“Blood? Human flesh?” I would think it obvious, but when the table erupts with laughter I realize I’m wrong. A hot flush burns my neck and I purse my lips to keep it from overtaking my face.
“Humans truly know nothing about us.” Lavenzia helps herself to a pickled brussels sprout.
“We use blood for magic, Riane, not for sustenance.” The alternative name sounds odd, but I force myself to quickly grow accustomed to it. I’ve already given him magic I didn’t know I had and an oath I never wanted… I won’t give him my name, too. A heavy weight follows Ruvan’s statement, accompanied by a contemplative stare that I can’t decipher. I wonder if, somehow, he’s sensing my discomfort as I’ve sensed his. “At least, true vampir do.”
“True vampires?” I ask.
“Those who haven’t Succumbed to the curse. You’ll see tomorrow.” There’s something about his tone that reminds me of a metal support about to snap. Grumbling. Groaning. A sound that you feel—that tells you if there is any extra weight placed upon it, it will split.
Deeming the conversation finished, I grab a plate and carefully select my food—choosing the largest hunk of meat available and hoping it’s not of suspect origin. Then, I take cutlery, resisting glancing from the corners of my eyes to see if they’re going to stop me. They don’t. I try to keep the motion fluid and simple, folding up the napkin in such a way that its contents can’t be seen. They’re not paying attention to me, but rather talking amongst themselves again.
“Should we awaken more soldiers if we’re going into the old castle?” Lavenzia asks Ruvan.
“No, we’ve already lost too many, we can’t afford to awaken more.”
