Her cut is deep. In a rare and delicious sight, Skartovius is stumped. Baffled. His beautiful lips move but nothing worthwhile comes out as he stammers, “I, erm . . . do not have soft features.”
To see the leader of this trio—the unflappable, arrogant, diabolical nobleblood—get his ego bruised so effortlessly by a plain woman of middling years is nothing short of remarkable.
I can’t help but snicker, hiding my hand over my mouth as Skar glares at me, spins dramatically away with his red-gold cloak fluttering, and continues walking us through the eerily deserted streets.
Jinneth gifts me a small smirk at the corner of her lips, her eyebrows bobbing and—
Fuck me True, they’re right. She reallyismy mother.
That sly little look on her face is all I need to know the truth of the matter. I’ve sported that same cunning, mischievous expression my entire life.
We continue on in silence, none of my mates feeling comfortable enough to spit any barbs at my mother.
Half their strength and twice as powerful with her words alone.
Maybe the Jinneth from my story isn’t dead after all.
The region ruled by Overlord Aramastun Wyvox is tinted with red lights and hazy shadows, as if warning all who enter they are not welcome to traipse through these streets.
Skartovius, Vallan, and Garroway lead us expertly through back-alleys and empty roads, carefully picking and choosing their route based on intuition and scouting.
Eventually, we cut past the fringe of the more-inviting yellow district of Overlord Barnabac Craxon, the Military Ward. The lamplights soften from red to orange to a stone-like yellow, basking us in beige globes as we haunt the streets.
The rising sun hides behind tall buildings, with most of the skyrises standing in the rainbow-colored Commerce Ward to the south, owned by Overliege Liolen Sesk.
The only interfolk vampirex boss,I muse.Imustmeet Liolen Sesk, just to see if they’re anything like Palacia from the Grimsons or the hardworking interfolk miners at the North Mines.
The Military Ward is where the Chained Sisters keep their hidden stronghold.
As we approach the dilapidated structure of the Sisters, I let out a heavy breath and twirl my wrist vaguely. “I don’t know how you three got us here safely, but I’m thankful you did.”
“Our senses are more attuned than yours, little temptress,” Skartovius says.
Leave it to him to turn my thanks into a jab. I frown at Skar as we approach the front door. “Debatable—”
“Excuseme?” Jinneth quips. “Did you just call my daughter your little . . .temptress? Are you calling my girl a whore, young devil?”
Skar blinks at the tall, stout woman. He looks over at me. “I don’t think I am going to get along with your progenitor, Sephania.”
Before I can answer, Jinneth cackles again, throwing her head back. “Get along? Good fucking luck, sir. I hate your kind. Always will. You’re all vicious bastards that deserve to kiss the sun you so badly fear.”
My eyes widen.Well, she’s blunt. Score another point for her likeness to me.“Erm, mother, in case you haven’t realized, these are myfriends. I know you’ve been locked away for a while, but we don’t tell our friends how much we hate them right to their faces.”
“We save it for inside, behind their backs,” Garroway adds unhelpfully with a raised finger.
Jinneth snorts, tosses a thumb at Garro. “At least this one’s slightly humorous.” Twiddling two fingers in front of her, she shakes her head gravely at Vall and Skar, who stand shoulder to shoulder like they’re schoolchildren getting scolded. “These two? Pah! I trust them as much as I trust the True. Which is to say, not at all.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re not stuck with us,” Skar growls. “Your daughter is.”
“Stuck with them?” Jinneth wheels on me. “Have you entered some sort of demonic contract with these three monsters, young lady?”
“We prefersaviorsover monsters for those we, you know, save,” Garro interjects.
“What does the pretty dead thing mean when he says you’restuckwith them?”
Vallan takes a step forward, towering over me and my mother and evidently not finding any humor in our exchange. It’s been a trying night for everyone, and while I’m still somewhat drunk from my evening of tall-tale-telling, Vallan is offensively sober. “You know why we protect her, old witch. It’s the blood in her veins—”
“Old?!” Jinneth screeches. “I’m not—”
