As the words on the page sink into my mind for the umpteenth time, my denial begins to shift. After all, what are Skartovius’ attributes?
He’s arrogant, he’s power-hungry, he’s powerful.
All things he shares with Alacine Mortis.
More than that, most damnably of all, is theabilityI’ve now seen them both wield. The ability to shape shadows and twist them to their liking. To shift through the shadows as if they’re gateways to other worlds.
It must be hereditary,I think.Something within their shared bloodline that gives them command over people’s shadows. SomethingIdon’t share in my bloodline with either of them.
My denial morphs into disgust.
This revelation, I see why Lord Ashfen would put it to paper, because I’d never believe it if he told me. No, the history of his origins and mine were necessary. I needed to read about theshaping of the Five Ministries and Alacine’s part in it. I needed to discover truths about Heskel Angul, my father I’ve always looked up to—even in death—and his Silverknight brigade. His uprising against my kind, and his alleged plot to bring down my mother and the Five Ministries, even in his old age, as a final wound against the blight of humanity: vampires.
These are facts and stories I can confirm directly. I have the means to discover the veracity of the claims Skartovius has put to paper.
And yet, the two words keep playing themselves on my tongue. “My brother.”
If he truly is my half-brother, born a hundred years before me to a human father and turned near his thirtieth year when Alacine was also turned by Kavorin Mortis, then this changes everything.
It explains so much of the rabid vitriol Alacine has toward Skartovius. The utter hate and need to see him fall, because she feared his ambition would match her own. I’ve shared that hate because Mother demanded me to.
“The Sireslayer Skartovius Ashfen murdered your father, the man I love, in cold blood.” Alacine would say those words to me when I was younger.
To think it all stemmed from a betrayal onherpart: framing Skartovius for the murder of Kavorin, her wicked husband.
After the gruesome sight of watching the bastard Kavorin defile my mother when I was younger, I was knocked unconscious while the two of them fought. I didn’tseethe battle, so I have no recollection of whether any of this is true or not. I don’t know who is responsible for Kavorin’s death, only that it was warranted, and I should likely bethankingSkartovius rather than damning him as my mother does.
The more important part to me, and the bigger lie, is what Skar has written aboutmyfather’s death: that it was doneout of duty, not hatred for Alacine. That Heskel planned on assassinating my mother and me.
I don’t know . . . but I can find out. And I’ll know the truth when I say the words to my mother’s face. She won’t be able to hide such an explosive fact from me.The story of my upbringing. Hidden from vampires because of my illegitimate birth. Born to a Silverknight, the very enemy of vampires.
I’ve always known these things about me.
It is the smaller details, the facts Alacine has woven into her web, indoctrinating me and leading me to believe certain truths, which come as a shock to me now. I’ve been sitting in the recovery room for an entire evening, ever since we returned to the Intelligence Ward and I found my mother with her new plaything, Jinneth.
Sephania’s mother.
I shudder at the thought of what Alacine might do to Sephania’smother, knowing what she did to that frail interfolk girl Palacia. How callous and cruel she can be.
Over a century of bloodlust and bloodshed makes monsters of us all.
After reading Skartovius’ history, I know my mother is truly mad. That seems indisputable. But what I must discover is if she has lied about everything I’ve believed my entire life. Two things can be true at once: Alacine can be a hateful lunatic, and she can also love me dearly.
Skartovius as my brother. His framing and ousting from court. The Sireslayer as the crowning jewel of our hate, responsible for my father’s death in cold blood, done out of revenge.
I get up from my bed, tired of sitting here while my thoughts spiral out of control. I need the truth.
So I rise and strap on my father’s sword with a sigh. I can’t go anywhere these days without being armed. I’ve failed tomention to Alacine I recovered the saber, and she hasn’t seemed to notice. She’s been too preoccupied with Sephania’s mother in her torture room.
The dungeon is not far from where I’m staying. Alacine wanted to keep a close eye on me after I returned from Manor Marquin wounded and without Sephania, again.
Strangely, she did not scold me this time. She did not reprimand me for my failure, saying instead, “Her mother will be just as useful as she is.”
“Does Jinneth have the Loreblood Sephania does?” I asked last evening after we had both returned here.
“Even better.” Alacine grinned at me, waving a thin container Jinneth had on her person at the time of her capture. “She has a vial of it. Tainted with silver, at the moment. I will siphon the silver out and we will havepureLoreblood soon, my little sapling.”
She told these things to me while I rested from my chest wound. It didn’t take long to heal because of the shallowness of the piercing, due to the book protecting me.
