Rirth stands when he sees me, nudging his chin in my direction, which causes countless eyes to veer over at me. They are eyes I mostly don’t recognize—new pacifist Grimsons that would make Lukain sick for how Antones has trained them, as well as a few of the older guard.
“Our defense would not have been a success without the aid of Sephania Lock,” Rirth says.
My eyes squint as people run over. Their voices mingle as one, a thread of praise and conversation I can’t listen to right now. I keep my gaze stuck on Rirth, understanding what he’s doing.Passing off the attention to me, whether he thinks I deserve it or not. Anything to get it away from himself.
I wish we could go back to the way things were when we trained together. When Rirth taught me special tricks to advance my skills, honing my footwork, and I showed him scrappy combat maneuvers he’d never known.
But that was before Culiar. Before he became reborn as the illustrious “Silverknight” and sought to start a revolution with the silver dagger I gifted him as the symbol of that revolt.
Soon, Rirth will have an army on his hands. He will be no different than our slavemaster leader, Master Lukain, and the cycle will continue.
Except this time, I had no doubt Rirth would be bringing his brand of justice up to Olhav. When the time was right—in his mind—I would meet him on the battlefield again.And he will be an enemy. Like he was just a few days ago when I ran into him with Skartovius trying to escape this damned city.
Garroway manages to keep most the hangers-on from crowding me too badly as I make my way over to the Silverknight.
“Where is Antones?” I ask. “Did he live?”
Rirth nods. “In the infirmary. Broken arm, scuffed up backside, but nothing more. He’ll live.”
“Good. Old Endolf is dead.” Rirth already knows it because he was there, but the rest of the Grimsons clearly don’t. I can tell by the way the line of chatter ceases, solemn silence taking over.
“Will you stay here?” I ask Rirth.
He shakes his head gravely. “The Firehold is no longer my place. My place is on the Floorboards, where my comrades wait for me.” He reaches out and pats a man’s arm. “Truehearts willing, we’ll be greeting more comrades aboveground before long.”
I clench my jaw. Study his handsome face, which seems drawn these days. He’s gaunter, his shorn hair making him seem smaller. Yet there’s a fierceness in his eyes—a clear-eyed resolve that was lacking when I found him drinking away his sorrows in the taverns.
“Protect these people, Rirth.” I scan the room of Grimsons—the younglings, the aging group, the newcomers. “If Antones is unable, they will need champions. Can your Silverknights provide that?”
“If they’ll follow me into the sun, then yes.” He sighs, taking a seat at an eating bench, facing outward. “But we can no longer hide away in the darkness down here while our city is trampled. Those days are over, Sephania.”
“I know, old friend.”
“The vampires must pay.” His eyes glare at Garroway, who stiffens at his words. “The flesh-traders, the slavemasters, any humans causing other humans suffering in Nuhav . . . they too must meet justice.”
“Yes.” My voice is clipped. He knows my opinion on this, and I can’t simply tell this entire group that I’m in love with the men he wants to kill.
“Give Antones my regards,” With that, I turn to leave.
“Where will you go?” he calls after me.
I slowly turn. “I will return to Olhav to find Spymistress Alacine Mortis. She was the skilled female vampiress who killed Old Endolf. A major leader of the vampires in the mountains. I will find her, kill her, and return my mother to her lover.”
My words brook no argument. I say as fact, because it’s the only thing I can accept at this point.
Rirth stands. He salutes me, placing the silver dagger against his chest. “You fought this Spymistress well. Give the fiend hell enough so she won’t ever forget you. Perhaps, in the future when you come to your senses, we can join forces.”
I scoff, giving Rirth a humorless smile. “Don’t hold your breath, old friend. I may never come to my senses.”
I return to Manor Marquin with Garroway and Vallan, utilizing the carriage in a much more measured roll than the breakneck speed we used to get down here.
Vallan is slightly wounded but quickly healing. I give him a smattering of Loreblood to spur his recovery, and Garroway asks him questions about his fight with the five vampires aboveground. Apparently, it took some time, but none of them escaped the man’s bloodrage.
Once we’re safe in the halls of Marquin, I go looking for Skartovius—
And stumble across the first body in a downstairs hallway. It’s an Intelligence Ward soldier, gray-cloaked and all. Three acolytes are wrapping his body in a tarp to bring outside.
On other levels and in other rooms of the place, white-robes are cleaning up whatever mess happened here. Of course, I can’t ask the damned acolytes because they’re mute. One of the servants is even sweeping up ash in a hallway upstairs.
