“He doesn’t give a shit because he left this all behind,” Dorian said.
“Not on purpose, you flaming trash heap! Your son locked the doors! You didn’t care enough to try to open them!” Belshazzar said.
“It was the damn amulets! You know that! The only thing that might have unlocked it was blood and bone magic—and I won’t use that.” Dorian stepped to him. “Not even to bring you back, brother. No matter how fucking much I missed you.”
Belshazzar flashed a fang at his brother and marched ahead. Aiko sighed and followed him. Rilen and Roran flanked me, and we headed down the road again.
Something was bothering Aiko, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. We were heading to the city where he had grown up, but he didn’t seem happy.
Not that I ever adored going home, either, but at least I didn’t quite feel like I was going to have my toenail drawn out and my feet dipped in saltwater.
Which was how this seemed to feel to him.
Our hike continued in silence—completely terrible and consuming silence that I didn’t like, and I could tell the twins weren’t thrilled either. But there was nothing we could do about it.
The road was well maintained, but again, there were very few people on it, and when a carriage or rider passed us, they were going very fast.
Could Niniane have everyone so terrified they didn’t even want to leave their homes? Savion hadn’t been dead but a month, and she had them this frightened already?
We did have to destroy her.
From our one encounter in the Stronghold, I knew how strong she was, and how much power she could hold. She was a vampire, but the magic crackled around her, and I had been frightened.
When the woman who pulled down the mountains was frightened of someone’s power, it was time to be concerned.
The entire day we walked in near silence, only stopping for lunch and to see if anyone had horses or carriages to rent. No one was even willing to open doors to talk to us—everyone spoke through them.
As it turned dark, we also realized there was no hope to find a barn or inn to sleep in, and we surrendered to a camp with our packs and rolls a distance off the road.
The silence was still permeating everything as we sat there, heating some lentils and herbs over the fire, gnawing on some of the hardtack and a bit of cured meat.
“What a fun vacation,” Belshazzar grumbled.
“Yes, delightful,” Dorian said. “Just like our outings when we were children. I expect you’ll dump the lentils over my head without letting them cool off.”
“I never did that.”
Dorian turned his head slowly and eyed his brother. He held up his hand, and one at time ticked off a list, lifting fingers. “Lentils, tomatoes, lamb stew, mother’s tuh’u, pasta, cooked oats, hot water, cold water, beef blood, milk—”
Belshazzar flashed a fang again. “Enough.”
“This feels familiar,” Rilen said.
“I never dumped food on your head,” Roran said.
“No, you just threw me in any body of water you could find,” Rilen said.
I looked at Aiko. “Are all siblings so awful to each other?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “My sister and I were terrible. I would tangle her hair on purpose, and I even once cut off a whole braid.”
“Aiko!”
He shrugged. “It’s what siblings do.”
Roran leaned into the fire and pulled the pot out from the side. “Who’s hungry?”
“I need blood,” Belshazzar said. “Whose blood am I taking?” His eyes landed squarely on me.
