Uncle Brachett has held the East his entire career, and I’ve enjoyed adopting his tactics.
Which is really just one—no mercy.
Riot turns to me as Brachett climbs up the wall. “Ready?”
I grunt. “Let’s go drink like war is upon us.”
“Poetry to my ears,” he replies and leads the way, scaling the rockface.
My fingers grip the rough surface I’ve touched thousands of times, and I pull and push up the cliff, hoisting myself over the ledge with ease.
“Do we talk strategy tonight?” Riot asks as we amble back through the tunnel, orbs above lighting our way.
I unclasp the bracers from my forearms. It’s time to get comfortable.
“No. We’ll wait for the others. Tonight, we ensure the men remember what they’re fighting for.”
Riot peers over at me.
“Tonight, welive.”
At that, Riot picks up the pace into the grand living room to male Hunters milling about, tossing shirts over heads, treating themselves to overflowing pints, and taking their seats at the dining table.
It’s been decades since a female Hunter honored us with her service. Grace is the only one, sort of. Vampire bloodlust hit a peak fifty years ago, killing humans at an alarming rate, and our parents’ generation answered with a rebellion that failed, losing half of our Hunters and severely weakening us. Our women chose their service as Mothers exclusively after that, passing on their Hunter magic to their children to rebuild our warriors rather than accepting the magic for themselves.
When we kill this king, we can go back to how things used to be. When the female choice to accept her magic as a warrior, or to become a Mother, was based on more than survival of the line. And I’ll be so grateful for that, because I’ve learned so many things from the way Grace fights.
The contributions from our women are greatly missed.
But the gods demand balance with our magic, and our women pay the price for it.
Life is so fucking unfair sometimes. And I despise the fact that Grace has had to choose. I can’t even fathom the force she would become if she accepted her magic.
The room stills at the sound of grinding stone from the carved chamber. A minute later, the Northern outfit marches into the grand room, and cheers roar.
“Thank you for coming,” I say in greeting, their faces wearing exhaustion.
Northern station leader, Longton, clasps my hand with his. “You shittin’ me? Never been more excited for anything in my whole damn life.”
I clap him on the back, and he disappears into the throng. Riot and I welcome the Hunters filtering in behind their station leader.
Once everyone is settled, we grab our own pints from the ale station and saunter toward the head of the massive table.
And then, like a punch to the gut, Sam’s magic splashes against mine.
CHAPTER 7
VEYA
Present Day
OUR CARRIAGES ARE BARELY paused outside the black stone castle when the steps fill with Goreon courtiers and guards snapping into existence.
“Here we fucking go,” Second growls and exits the carriage.
I try to keep my nerves in check. The opportunity I’ve been working toward is here, and I can’t mess it up. Every innocent life is at stake, in this kingdom and ours.
I plaster on a confident expression and emerge.
