The thought isn’t as repulsive as it should be, though my scars still prickle.
But then—not that it would ever happen—we’d both be a target for the Vampire King. There’s no way the pretender to the Fanghaven throne would risk that, not even to get himself a sunblood. If sunbloods even exist—which no book in the vampire section has proven so far, and we’ve paged through most of them.
Admittedly, we’re going quickly. It’s cold down here.
I close another old, fragile tome and gently slip it back onto the shelf. “Nothing, either?”
Sybil shakes her head. “Though this is interesting, and I didn’t have any idea.” She points to a passage in the volume she’s holding. “Then again, I don’t meet enough vampires for the conversation to turn to child-rearing.”
“What is it?” Frowning, I move toward her. My birds crowd in, too, helping to warm us and brighten the pages.
“This says that vampire babies don’t drink blood right away. They nurse from their mother’s breasts—or a wet nurse’s, I assume—just like any other people until their teeth come in. Once teeth are established, it still takes a few months for fangs to be strong enough to descend from the upper gums and pierce flesh. Once they are, the parents offer up their own veins to tempt the hungry child, the little fangs instinctively pop out for the first time, the child bites, drinks, and becomes a bloodsucker for life.”
I grimace. “I guess that makes sense about nursing first. But then they have about as much choice in the matter as werechildren stolen from places like Muirvale. Indoctrinated before they understand the implications.”
She nods. “But this is where it gets really interesting.” Her finger lightly traces the tight, angular handwriting on the parchment as she reads: “Until vampire children take their first sip of blood, daylight cannot harm them. Only after drinking from a vein can they no longer behold the sun.”
A chill surges over me. Behold the sun. I inhale sharply, a deep shiver icing my bones. My pulse suddenly racing, I discreetly run my tongue over my upper gums. It does feel like there’s something solid, a subtle something extra I’ve never thought to look for, tucked in there above my canines.
Cold sweat needles my skin as I swallow hard, abruptly nauseous, but also so fucking hungry for something that could finally satisfy me. Most foods make me sick, and it’s even worse when I don’t get regular sunlight.
Mute with horror, I back toward my birds, barely feeling their warmth as shock and panic numb my limbs.
I think I might be a vampire.
A vampire who has never tasted blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
IDALLIA
Torridaig’s battle horn wakes me from a fitful sleep. I sit bolt upright, my pulse pounding wildly, then leap out of bed.
“Fyrestar!” Reaching for the clothes I dumped on a chair last night, I get dressed as fast as possible and brutally pin up my hair. I add an extra layer, a thick, fur-lined, long-sleeved tunic to protect me from the night-cold air I know is about to bite me as hard as a weretiger. “Hurry! I want right wing!”
Fyrestar swoops down from the roosting wall. “It’s not even dawn.” His golden gaze shifts to the window.
“Good. Maybe Kellan will be slow to wake up.” If he’s even here. No one’s seen him in days.
I shove a foot into one boot and then hop, pulling on the other. Rim and Sol poke their heads out of the roosting wall. While Fyrestar flutters to the unlocked window and uses his talons to pull it open, I leap for my swords and strap them on. “Go!”
He takes off with a sharp caw. I’m about to run after him, then remember I want a dagger. I sprint across the room, grab one off my dresser, and slip it into my boot, leaving just the hilt accessible. Whirling, I race for the window, leap headfirst through the opening, somersault in the air, and open my arms and legs when I see the ground beneath me.
I fall like a star, my limbs splayed, the wind buffeting me. Fyrestar’s big body partially replaces my view of a still-sleeping Drayke. The city lamps are turned down low, and barely a wisp of smoke curls from a chimney. I clutch Fyrestar’s feathers and settle myself onto his back. He angles up immediately.
“Are you sure you have everything you need?”
“Yes!” Then I remember my vampire-repelling torque from Stuart. A sudden ache hits my neck, my thigh, my breast. Fangs. Pain. Shock. I suck in a breath.
“Idallia?”
“All good.” We might not even be going toward vampire territory.
Except, nine times out of ten, it’s a Bloodwold problem.
We climb toward the war room, growing dread coating my mouth with the bitter tang of fear. I try to swallow it down and can’t, my throat closing over. The vampire bites that are just small marks now seem to scream at me with deafening voices. I don’t know how they can throb like this when there’s barely anything there.
Maia joins the race, her leathery wings darker blotches against the granite cliffside.
