I saw how Claire absorbed the horror of war, realizing that surviving wasn’t the hardest part—it was living with what followed. She lifted her chin, refusing to let her tears fall, and held her sister’s hand, then Tansy’s. Witches of Light and Darkness stood together before these weary souls.
One by one, the villagers began to notice them. Conversations trailed off mid-sentence. Even the half-shifted weres lifted their heads.
Their eyes weren’t on me, or Natalia, or Tyson. They watched these women.
This was her moment. Her moment to spread her bravery. I wanted to reach for her, to hold her, but I wasn’t goingto dim her light. Not now.
"Blood has been shed on both sides of this conflict," Claire said. The entire fort went quiet. Even the wind seemed to hush to listen. “I know how devastating it is to bury family because of it.”
She looked at her sister. Meanwhile, each eye was fixed on her. Hope was spreading faster than the rot ever could, but it was almost too delicate for them to hold.
"I know what it’s like to hate dark witches," Claire continued. The words were pulled from some wounded place inside her. A place I knew just as well. I’d been raised with the same hate. “My mother,” she said, pointing to the woman who lay dead. “She told me they all had razor-sharp teeth and ate children."
A few nodded. Others muttered their agreement.
“But look at what Shayla did toyou.” Her voice wobbled, but she did not back down. “To your brothers and sisters. Husbands and wives. Mothers and fathers. She convinced you that in order to fight the darkness, you had to grow teeth too.”
Chills ran down my spine. She wasn’t wrong.
“I know what it’s like to let hate take up so much space inside your body it feels like a living, breathing part of you.” She thumped her chest. “A part that takes over your thoughts. Your actions. Even the prayers you pray at night."
More grunts and shouts came. But it wasn’t all support, and I shared a look with Natalia and Tyson. Ready for the tide to turn, I prepared to defend my wife if needed.
“How can we trust vampires?” someone shouted.
A woman with a dirty apron and a baby in her arms stood. “They’re bloodsuckers!”
I wouldn’t ask Claire to defend my people and me. That was my job. “We live by rules,” I explained. “A code of honor forged in the blood of twelve witches. Six from each faction. I was one of those witches.” The next part stuck in my throat,but I forced it out. “The rules of the Blood Treaty establish trust between us. We do not rule over you. We are peacekeepers.”
“And what happens if one of you breaks a rule?”
I swallowed hard. Claire’s eyes found mine. But I kept my attention trained on the one who asked the question. “There are severe consequences for the vampire who acts outside of the Blood Treaty.”
“What kind of consequences?” he shouted back at me.
I lifted my chin, still carefully avoiding Claire’s gaze. “Forfeiture of lands and titles. Banishment. Death.”
A buzz of disbelief ran through the crowd. Faces twisted with worry, some inching toward hope, others back into fear. I held my breath, praying Shayla’s horrors had finally exhausted their thirst for vengeance.
Tansy stepped forward, slinging her arms around Claire’s shoulders and holding her tightly. The two stood side by side: Tansy, petite but muscled with brown skin and white braids, and Claire, curvy and pale with red hair cascading down her back. One refused to charge her powers, another struggled to define her magick.
Their show of unity meant more to me than I could put into words. “You can curse vampires as bloodsuckers,” Tansy said, “but let me ask you this. Will there ever be enough blood to satisfy your hate?" A beat of silence. “Or is today the day you finally say enough!”
The crowd went silent again. My hands tensed, ready to grab my blade if need be. Not to hurt them, but to deter. No one would harm my wife.
Unbelievably, hope whispered through the crowd, smothering the flames of the fury that had been burning inside them.
Claire picked up where Tansyleft off. “Life can be so much more than just surviving. There are beautiful, wonderful things that you can experience when you stop letting hate rule your life. Like love. And hope. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it."
I waited. This was either the moment things changed or the start of another five hundred years of negotiations. One woman stepped forward. She was wrapped in furs and had dirt caked beneath her nails. She wore a look of exhaustion. “I can’t speak for all the witches here, but as for my family and me, I’m ready to join you.”
I could hardly believe it. Then another stepped forward. An older male. Human. His family was kneeling around one of the slain weres. “My only son joined with Shayla. And I encouraged him. I-I’d told him it was honorable.” Tears fell down his face. “I thought this was what I wanted.”
A younger woman, a shawl clutched around her shoulders, came to stand beside him. “What my father is trying to say,” she began, “is that we’ve sacrificed enough for this war. Maybe it’s time to sacrifice our old ways for the sake of peace.”
More stepped forward. Witches and weres and humans. Until I had pledges from not one leader, but a hundred single voices. This was how the Blood Treaty was born. In the weary hearts and the fragile hope of people who were done with fighting. It reminded me of those first talks. When covens would meet and discuss what it would take to stop the fighting.
And I knew, as surely as I knew the weight of the sword at my side, that this was not my doing. It was hers.
