“I may be old,” Keffa snarls, “but I still have fight in these bones, young lady.”
Skar takes up behind me. “Sephania is right. I can’t let you sacrifice yourself for nothing.”
She looks him up and down. “You would stop me, nobleblood?”
With a sigh, Skartovius gives a pained nod. “You are one of the only humans I appreciate in this world, Iron Sister. So yes, I would. Because you’re too important to the other Sisters here. Jinneth is in no jeopardy.”
“How can you be sure?”
“For all I hate about the Grimsons, they are strong. For humans. Resilient. The aging man Antones was always a firm lieutenant behind Lukain, and he knows how to fight. That, and they are well-hidden underground.”
I’m shocked by his frank appraisal of the Grimsons. I’ve never heard Skar string so many compliments together, even if some of them are backhanded.
“Your stubborn old cow and the elderly alchemist need time to work on Sephania’s blood,” Skar continues. “Otherwise this is all for naught. Sephania will not survive freeing the masses as she did Sister Cyprilis.”
“We don’t even know if it will work,” Keffa answers. Her response is subdued now, less bite to it. Skar is begrudgingly starting to sway her opinion.
The longer we keep her here, the more her wrath will subside.
She wheels, and the lines of her weathered face make me stutter back. Her white hair flurries around her face as she points a gnarled finger at my chest. “I am disappointed in you, child. Youpromisedto bring Jinneth back safely.” There’s true sadness in her eyes now, stealing away the rest of her anger. Her voice is throaty and thick with it.
Do you forget I rescued my mother for you in the first place? That my mates and I are the only reason Jinneth is here at all?I put my hands on her bony shoulders, staring her in the eyes. “I will return her, Iron Sister. I have not vacated my promise. Jinneth will return. The timetable is simply further out than I realized.”
I hope it’s enough. It’s going to have to be.
Vallan stomps down the stairs, blessedly drawing some eyes away from the melee in the main room. I notice how Sister Lyroan, the girl who hates me and wishes I would let her “fair prince” go, tenses at the sight of the massive man. “Gifts are deposited to Sister Cyprilis,” he announces. His head tilts when he notices all the slack faces staring at him. “What did I miss?”
“Excellent,” I interject, then bound past him to head upstairs—anything to get away from Keffa before she breaks down or smites me where I stand.
When I push into Cy’s room with a smile, the reek of death and decay greets my nose and freezes me in the doorway. “Oh, graceless fucking martyrs.”
Cyprilis has found it necessary to place each of the severed heads on each of the four posters of her bed, with the slack facespointed at her, like the impaled heads are watching over her or carrying on a conversation only she can hear.
To top off the gruesome sight, Cy beams at me when I enter. There’s a crazed look in the frail vampiress’ red eyes. “Thank you for bringing me my friends, Sister Sephania.”
My mouth drops. “F-Friends, Cy?”Vampirism has truly changed her into a madwoman.
She has fallen a long way since we ate fruit together on the balcony overlooking the Nuhavian bazaar, when she planted that innocent kiss on my cheek. If I had thought, or hoped, Cyprilis held an iota of humanity in her body still, all that is tossed out the window when I stare at this macabre spectacle.
The newly minted Chained Sister nods diligently at me. “With their heads detached from their bodies, they’re much friendlier. They can keep the ghosts away during the day hours while I sleep.”
“The ghosts?” I take a cautious step into the room. When I lean forward a few feet away, I think better of it from the spooky heads. “Has someone been, um, visiting you during daylight, Sister?”
Fear spikes inside me.Not again,I think.
“Only that handsome, pale mirage, every so often. He never lays a hand on me though. He only has questions.” Cyprilis perks up. “Questions aboutyou, mostly.”
My eyes bulge in shock. “What does this handsome man look like, Cy?”
“He has a scar across his collar, running slightly up his neck. A smooth face other than that, darker than a vampire’s, but not by much. Half-blood, if I had to guess.”
My heart thrums against my chest.The scar he was given by Skartovius’ silver sword. Lukain! Fuck, Cyprilis has been his source of information about me!
Cy notices the twitch of my jaw, the concern written on my face. “Have I done wrong by you, Sister Sephania?”
I shake my head diligently. “No, love. You haven’t.” I give her a small, weak smile. I’m not sure what to do with this information, or if I want to stop Lukain at all.
A voice startles me from my thoughts. “Well, this won’t go over well with the Iron Sister. Oranyof the Sisters.”
