“I know it’s late.” She dabs sweat from her forehead, breathing hard from the steep climb up to the Elite Wing level. “But Stuart just finished your torque and fell into an exhausted sleep, so I brought it up for him as fast as I could.”
I frown. “What do you mean? I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.”
She looks as startled as I feel. “Bale asked him to make something to protect your neck from Bloodwold vampires, and we know you leave tomorrow at dawn. The magic was taxing, and Stuart only just finished.”
Worry thumps inside me. “Is Stuart all right?”
She waves off my concern. “He just needs a good night’s sleep. He’ll be fine tomorrow. The important thing was getting this done in time for the stakeout.”
I motion her inside and shut the door. “Bale asked him to make this?” Bale mentioned protecting my neck but hadn’t said anything since. I hadn’t really thought about it again, but I should’ve known Bale wouldn’t forget, and I hate the hot shock that arcs across my chest. The giddy explosion feels like the impending death of good intentions and smart decisions as Sybil and I walk over to my two chairs and sit.
She leans toward me with the torque, and I lift my hair so she can slip it around my neck. She squeezes the shiny metal band closed to lock it into place, then settles back in her chair. “I thought Bale would’ve told you. It’s a start. If it works like it should, we’ll probably make similar torques for the whole Elite Wing.”
Lifting my hand, I touch the metal. It’s about three fingers wide and should protect a good portion of my neck without inhibiting movement. “The silver feels warm.” And a little jarring and unpleasantly tingly, though I don’t add that. I don’t want her to think I’m ungrateful, especially if making this protection wore Stuart out so much that he collapsed into bed. Besides, the discomfort isn’t anything I can’t live with, and I’m all for shielding my neck. “So how does it work?”
She looks smug, though I know it’s on Stuart’s behalf. “If a vampire fang even touches this, it’ll disintegrate and never grow back.”
I grin, still rubbing my fingertips over the heated metal. “Well done, Stuart.” That sounds fantastic, though it’s going to take some time to settle into the feel of the cursed silver around my neck. “No fangs, no bites.”
Sybil’s face loses the elasticity of its earlier smile. “It won’t really change anything,” she says softly. “They can still drain their blood captives, just not the same way.”
I reach over and grip her hand. She looks older this way, but that’s what grief does to you, even after decades. Not long after Sybil came to Drayke Mountain, her youngest sister was taken from their hometown in Ruthinock in a blood-trafficking raid. The poor girl was still a child. She was never seen again.
“How can they get away with it?” Sybil asks angrily. “Everyone knows what’s happening, and yet time and again, Bloodwold vampires take what they want.”
“Only if they don’t get caught,” I say darkly. Torridaig has a fierce army protecting its borders. Soldiers from the local garrisons often kill raiding vampires and retrieve the prisoners. But sometimes, the vampires slip over the border and into their elaborate tunnel system leading into Hellwood Forest before anyone even knows they came and went.
As for raids into Ruthinock, the blood-thieving vampires usually move back and forth through Fanghaven. Rexton Hale’s army isn’t consolidated or big enough to cover the whole road system, and the rough terrain along the Silver Moon Mountains leaves more holes and hiding places than a werefox’s den for the predatory vampires to sneak around in.
Hopefully, the upcoming stakeout will put us ahead of a raid and earn us some Bloodwold prisoners. The cowardly Were King will have a harder time throwing his vote into Rannigan’s lap with hard evidence of Rannigan’s crimes staring the Ellonrift Council in the face.
“Why doesn’t Cealastra react?” Sybil asks—mostly a rhetorical question. I don’t know more than she does.
Because she’s dead, my gut whispers to me, anxiety abruptly tightening everything under my skin. “Cealastra hasn’t done anything obvious in decades. And even before that, eclipses were increasingly spaced out.”
“It started with the Fanghaven murders.”
I nod. Rannigan Bloodthief now votes for himself and his wife, and the Were King votes with Rannigan to be left in peace. The fae do the same, knowing Bale’s not an unhinged monster who’ll come after them for no reason, which leaves him—and all of Torridaig—in the lurch. Torridaig and Ruthinock always ally, but they can’t counter that bigger block, and Cealastra doesn’t weigh in unless there’s a tied vote.
Maybe there’s hope with the new Fae Queen coming to her first Council. If Bale can get her on his side and force a tied vote, Cealastra will either show up—or prove to everyone that she’s really gone.
“I’m pretty sure the usefulness of the Ellonrift Council is coming to an end.” I rub a finger over the torque again. The magic in it feels like a hot-cold current pricking at my skin. “It’s about intimidation instead of fairness now, and Cealastra clearly isn’t keeping Rannigan’s lies and bullying in check. The only reason the Council ever worked was because the Star of Ellonrift was watching and guiding, but now, she either isn’t around or doesn’t care.”
Slowly nodding, Sybil agrees with a long, troubled sigh. “If things keep up this way, Bale will retaliate. He’ll do what needs to be done, with or without the Council’s support.”
“I don’t know why he doesn’t back Rexton Hale’s claim to the Fanghaven throne. He’d get that historic alliance back and force a tied vote.” Wouldn’t that be better than all-out war?
“And force Cealastra to appear,” Sybil adds.
I press my lips together, not wanting to scare her with my dire feeling about the goddess. No one really knows if she’s still with us or not. Up until a couple of centuries ago, the often-tied votes used to compel Cealastra to choose sides. Ever since the Vampire King orchestrated for that to never happen, Bloodwold does what it wants.
Maybe Cealastra is dead. Or maybe she deserted us.
The echo of Bale’s voice shudders through me, tearing a frayed edge off my heart. Endless abandonment rage. I clear my throat.
“What are your plans while I’m gone?” I ask, changing the subject.
Sybil seems to perk up, the worry of war easily lifted from her shoulders. “Just teaching and sorting the new recruits. Magic isn’t as strong in anyone these days, but at least they all want to come to Torridaig if they’re willing to leave home.”
