In Sutlis Spire’s cells, everything remained dark, day after day. The cells held no windows, I assumed because the Judgment Ward was used to having vampiric prisoners who would be fried by the daylight. Even when meeting Chronicler Kleora to weave my tale, I was questioned at nighttime, with only a candle to light our verbal journey.
Truehearts weep, I miss that damned fireball,I think as I make my way to the first white tents I can find. A breeze wafts across my face, and a white-robed servant glances at my chest and pebbled nipples before meeting my eyes—showing no shame in doing so.
I clench my teeth. “Do you have any human food in there?”
He folds his hands together, frowning at me. Another servant walks up to him, and they speak to each other by connecting their hands and drawing figures on each other’s palms.
One of them nods, motions for me to leave, pointing toward the back of the manor. Confused, I depart, with one of the mutes following me. Once inside, he sets me in a small room with a wooden table, bench, and shelves. The room is naturally chilledby cold stone walls, and I realize I’m in a freezer of some kind. Foodstuffs line the shelves.
I fight off the chill, sitting at the servant’s request, and wait. Ten minutes later, an acolyte walks in and sets down a steaming platter of eggs, meat, and crumbly cheese.
My mouth waters. Before I can look up to thank him—tearing my gaze reluctantly away from the platter—he’s gone. I dig into the food like a barbarian, wincing from the greasy hot meat burning my fingers. I don’t even know what type of animal I’m eating, but I couldn’t care less.
Yes,I think as I happily eat, hunched over like a goblin in the kitchen freezer of the manor,I could certainly get used to this.
The sun sets and the mansion comes alive with vampires greeting the moonlight. I find Garroway biting into a half-loaf of bread as he makes his way down the stairs. I’m dressed in my leathers now—cleanly washed and scrubbed—and he is too.
My brow threads as I tap the newel of the handrail running up the stairs, while Garro lazily makes his way down. “Bread, Garroway?”
“Hot off the fire, lass,” he says with a cheery smile. “I woke up feeling adventurous today.” He wags the bread in the air.
“Thank the True you’re not incapacitated from your beast-charming last night.”
“Quite so, little honey badger.” He reaches the bottom of the steps and joins me to walk through the manor. A draft swings in from the nearby windows, whistling to the high rafters and shaking a chandelier above us. “I was out for a fortnight, it felt. You’re saying it’s only been a single day?”
“Indeed.” I nudge my chin to the half-eaten bread in his hand. “I thought vampires drink blood for sustenance.”
He bobs his brows. “I’m a dhampir. I can do both.”
I’m surprised to hear that. “Wait, you can subsist on actual human food?”
His chuckle turns into a full-throated laugh. “Don’t sound so surprised, badger. How do you think I survived in Nuhav so long, living in the alleys? Did you imagine I just murdered a helpless child anytime I felt hungry and supped on their blood?”
“Well . . . yes.”
Garro snorts. “For shame, you think me such a monster.”
“Youare!”
“True.” He shrugs, pouting. “Human food doesn’t nourish me as much as blood, I’ll admit. But I do so enjoy the taste. Have you tried this fucking bread, girl? The acolytes do it right in this dreary palace.”
He hands the bread over, a large crescent bitten into the end, and I smile at him before dipping my head to nibble at the crust. Around the mouthful, I murmur, “It is quite good, love.”
“Please don’t say ‘quite good.’ It reminds me of Skartovius. I don’t want to see my master when I gaze upon your beautiful face. Especially not first thing in the morning.”
I scoff, smirking. “It’s past twilight, Garro. Hardly morning.”
“Morning to a dhampir!”
We chuckle together as we make our way outside, not headed in any specific direction and not caring. My inexplicable anger has abated being in Garroway’s presence, which I’m grateful for. He has that effect on me.
“Speaking of the lord of the manor, where is he?”
His shoulders rise. “He left early. You didn’t see him on his way out?”
I pat my belly, pretending like it’s bloated. “Was busy stuffing my face also, in fact.”
“Good. It’s always a good idea to thicken you up.”
