I don’t exactly mind it. Their suspicion is healthy; it proves I chose them well, for I need Summoners with fire in their blood and darkness in their hearts. The overly compliant ones don’t have the drive to survive the danger I’ll put them in. The fervent ones who admire Shadowbanes too greatly will turn on me when I prove to be different from what they expect. And the ones who are too clever, too hateful of me and my kind…
Those relationships tend to end in bloodshed.
My eyes slide back to Inana, and I wonder where her fate lies.
“Well,” Calvin says, his mouth full of stew, “we’re becoming fast friends, aren’t we? Don’t be shy. Eat up.”
That reminds the others of the bowls in their hands. They exchange cautious looks before Harlow takes a spoonful. Her lips pull into a grimace as soon as they close over the spoon.
“How is it?” Calvin asks, eyes glittering as he studies her.
Her throat bobs, and it takes her several moments to answer. “I’ve definitely had worse in my mouth. And better. A lot better.”
Calvin chuckles. “I only promised edible.”
I exit the ruins, my appetite gone, and make my way to the firepit. Sundown won’t be for several more hours, but it’s cold this deep in the woods. My body temperature has run warmer than a regular human’s ever since my partial Absolution, but I remember how uncomfortable winter felt on my skin before. That’s why I draped my Summoners’ sleeping forms in their cloaks before we left the city.
Footsteps approach as I stoke the embers of the fire, and I’m relieved it’s only Calvin. I need to get my fucking head under control before I stand anywhere close to Inana again.
Crouching beside me, he speaks low to keep his voice from carrying to the cottage, where the other three remain. “Something good came from spilling the vial. The Shade that startled me…It was drawn to your blood.”
My eyes snap to his, and he gives me a knowing look.
One of the final Shades I’ve been seeking ishere.I run my hand along the leather holster at my waist, where a dozen glass vials are stashed, some empty, some filled with blood, others filled with shadows.
“Tonight,” I say. “We’ll catch it after sundown, but not in front of them. They aren’t ready for that yet.”
Calvin gives a sharp nod.
Finally, some good fucking news. While it may not be the most important Shade I’m hunting, this is a much-needed win after the shitstorm these last few weeks have been. I still have to locate two vital Shades, ones that have eluded me to no end, and I only have six months to find them. Six months until I’m up for consideration to become a full-fledged Sinless. Six months until I have a chance to stand before King Kaelum. Six months until everything I’ve been trained for my entire life will either come to fruition or burn to ash.
Chapter Eight
Inana
It turns out the Shadowbane does sleep during the day, though not in the way I expected. Instead of making a bed in the ruins, he’s sprawled beside the stream, a rolled-up cloak beneath his head. His sword is propped against a boulder beside him, but his belt of vials and knives remains around his waist. His arm rests over his eyes to block out the afternoon light, but that’s his main defense against the elements, save for his dark clothing. Shadowbanes must run hotter than mortals, because even under the sun, the air possesses an unmistakable bite. And the nerve he has to bare his roped forearms like it isn’t cold at all, his black linen sleeves rolled to his elbows. Meanwhile, the rest of us are huddled around the fire with our cloaks wrapped tight around us, mugs of watered-down coffee in our hands.
I shift my gaze away from Dominic to take a sip of my drink. I grimace, finding it somehow bitter and bland at the same time. Turns out Calvin is just as bad at brewing coffee as he is at making stew. At least the man himself has proved to be far more tolerable than his fare. While none of us are eager to let our guard down—it’s still only been half a day since we were dragged into this arrangement—Calvin makes it impossible to dislike him, with his easy manner and abundant smiles. I’m not sure how much of his friendly personality is influenced by Dominic’s blood. It’s true Calvin is nothing like thelistless harpist, and the fact that the blood eases the symptoms of his medical condition makes it sound like an exchange between equals. But still…
I eye Calvin across the fire as he takes a small sip of blood from his vial. It’s the second time he’s drunk from it since Dominic gave it to him.
Calvin meets my gaze as he replaces the cork, then rubs a hand over his newly flushed cheeks. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
I’m slightly abashed that he caught me staring, but I might as well ask what’s on my mind. “Are you truly not thralled?”
Harlow lifts her eyes from her mug, intrigued by the question. Bard, on the other hand, shows no interest as he stares with unfocused eyes into the fire.
Calvin tucks his vial into his vest and trades it for his mug of coffee. After a hearty drink, he says, “Fuck, that’s disgusting. And no, I’m not thralled. Shadowbane blood is addictive, but it doesn’t have the ability to control me or take away my free will the way Sinless blood does.”
“How do you know?” Harlow asks. “What if you only think you aren’t his thrall because he’s convinced you otherwise?”
He meets her eyes with a sad smile. “I was a Sinless’s thrall for six years. I think I’d know the difference.”
There’s no reproach in his tone, but Harlow’s expression falls with a mixture of surprise and pity.
“I might as well tell you my sordid tale,” he says. Thank the gods, because I’m burning with curiosity now. “As you know, I have a rare blood condition. It doesn’t clot properly, so even the slightest lesions are dangerous. Excessive blood loss, anemia, infection. I’ve had a lot to fear from any injury, yet I never expected my downfall to be so pretty. Her name was Lady Gertrude. A Sinless, and one of the most respected aristocrats in the city of Tarun. I was twelve when she happened upon me and my family in the market square.”
“You lived in Tarun?” I say. Tarun is one of the eight Sacred Cities. To live in one, you have to either be born there or be invited as a reward for piety. People like me, Harlow, and Bard were only allowed to live in Nalheim as servants, and only at Mr. Rockefeller’s behest. Weweren’t true residents. Even those who finish their terms and earn their freedom maintain the rank of servant and can be forced to leave the city at any time. Or forced to serve the Sinless as their blood source.
