“You have never tasted fresh blood.”
And upon saying this, he leans forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. It’s for just a second, enough to seal his words into her mind. A moment passes, and her muscles lose tone, her eyes shut, and she faints.
He holds her, his expression somber. It’s only then that he realises I’m still there, watching.
“I think it’ll be better if you wash her, instead of me,” he says. “Put her into something dry and let her rest in your bed.”
“All right,” I say, my chest aching.
Nocth offers me a sad smile. “Come to my office once you’ve got her in bed. I’ll send someone to clean the room.” He’s gone before I can ask him any questions, leaving Aliz, still unconscious, on the floor.
I get to work, grabbing a towel and a spare nightgown. She’ll probably kill me for putting her in a dress, but I don’t want to cross into her side of the room yet, not when there’s so much blood. I peel her soaked clothes off her and shower her down, blood running off her skin. I expect her to wake, but she doesn’t, her breathing shallow.
It’s only when I wrap the towel around her and press my forehead against hers, that I feel my eyes burn, tears stinging. After a short breath, I carry her out, maneuver a nightgown over her head, and pull the covers up to her neck. “I’ll be back soon,” I whisper, and Aliz remains fast asleep.
Nocth’s office isexactly as it was last time I saw it, except the tapestry has changed, replaced by a baroque painting. It’s a portrait of a shirtless man, with long black hair, holding up a candle, as if helping the viewer navigate the dark night.
“Caravaggio really captured my likeness, didn’t he?” he asks, as he catches me looking atit.
“What was that?” I ask. I’m exhausted, more so now than when Elia drove me home. The adrenaline of seeing Aliz in that state and trying to stop her from expelling every last ounce of blood left in her veins has subsided. I’d almost forgotten about Penny, who I left stranded in the castle. What if the Council have captured her? Killed her?
Nocth sighs, tapping on his desk. His black hair, usually perfectly in place, has a few loose strands falling over his eyes. He brushes them back, and I see his sleeves are still damp from holding Aliz. “Has Aliz been having nightmares recently?”
“Yes,” I whisper. Maybe I should have told him sooner.
“What of?”
“Being locked in a room without blood.” I pause, looking down at my hands. “She said it was a memory, though she had forgotten it at some point.”
He rubs his temples. “I told you to stay close to her. You being away clearly triggered her to fully remember what happened.”
“Were you expecting me to sit back and let a blood party take place in Inverness?” I snap. “What exactly did she remember?”
“Her seventeenth birthday. Aliz thinks that she came to Tynahine because she didn’t want to get married. Now, while that is partially true, the real reason is one that she forgot.”
I swallow hard. “You erased her memories, right?”
“Yes,” he says. “Well, I altered them. I replaced certain people, certain events. Her parents accepted these alterations. They also accepted her exile, so long as it meant she could be saved.”
“Saved?”
“Just before Aliz turned seventeen, Ares’s right-hand woman, Arla, forced Aliz to undergo an ancient coming-of-age ceremony. I won’t go into detail, but one of the things she did was force Aliz to drain a human girl.”
I stare.Forced her.
“Aliz didn’t kill the girl, one of the other attendees did, but they still celebrated and congratulated her on that first draining.”
“But—” My mouth is dry, and I’m glad there wasn’t food at the blood party. “But the Astras abide by the treaties, don’t they?”They fucking wrote them.
“Arla had worked for Ares for centuries. She was the only human he ever converted, and for the first millennia, she was fiercely loyal to him. But at some point in the last century, she joined a cult known as the Vassals. The Vassals are fervently against the treaties, and sowhen they got the opportunity to get close to the heir of the Astra family, they were certain they could bring her into the cult.”
His jaw tenses.
“But instead of indoctrinating her, they broke her. I found Aliz seconds before she walked out into daylight.” I gasp, unable to imagine Aliz, seventeen, ready to immolate herself. “I took her away from the family home, hoping that she would recover if she couldn’t see the place where—” He clears his throat. “But she wouldn’t drink blood. Not even the synthetic kind. She couldn’t stomach it.”
I listen, my throat tight.
“I waited three days. I thought that if I didn’t insist too much, she would end up reaching for a cup. But every time she drank, she threw up again. And you know what happens to a vampire if they spend a week without blood.”
