“How did this happen to him, Christian?” Grayson asked with a sigh, sinking back against the pillows even as he gestured at Weryn.
This Christian was a Vampire. Young. Very young. But very powerful. He regarded Weryn without fear. His eyes glowed for a moment.
“Balthazar and Caemorn aren’t certain if the soul gem was left in the chamber on purpose or simply dropped. They were looking for something else that was concealed beneath the floor. Between releasing the Zradum and the Ecthrois, they were in a rush so it could have slipped from their hands,” Christian explained, evidently relaying something he was being told.
He is an Eyros!
“I see that you just realized we’re other Bloodline Vampires than you, Weryn,” Christian said dryly. “That must have been clear from Fiona from the get go as she teleported you here. And I cannot smell like pack to you. Don’t you see that your mind isn’t working as it should? You should have realized all of this before. Do you even know where you are?”
“Nightvallen,” Weryn answered, but he said it uncertainly.
A look out the window told him he was in Daemon’s city. But if that was true, why were all of these people here? Daemon’s city was to be left alone, untouched, unmolested until the great Vampire king returned. But the city was full of people now. He drifted to the window. Was Daemon still sleeping? Had he been fed? Or was he still starving?
I’m so sorry, my king! I have betrayed you. Everything I have done you would hate. How can I ever face you?
“Maybe you should ask him what year it is,” Fiona, the Wyvern Vampire, remarked. “That might shake something loose.”
She circled him. Her eyes were narrowed, and he knew that she was prepared to teleport him from this room if he madeone wrong move towards the two boys on the bed. He knew he wouldn’t be fast enough to get past her. She claimed to be Wyvern reborn. He could almost believe that though she looked nothing like her. Even the soul behind the eyes seemed different.
“Was Roan carrying Weryn’s soul gem with him? Like a souvenir?” Grayson’s voice showed his disdain.
“Roan,” he repeated the name and had a flash of a young Eyros Vampire by Daemon’s tomb, laughing at him, and Legion giggling along.
A wave of rage and fear washed through him as memories tripped over themselves. He had been lured to Daemon’s tomb by Legion. Legion who had betrayed him. And Roan was a Kaly slice!
“It has Legion’s taint all over it according to Caemorn,” Christian responded.
“Legion!” Weryn hissed, body going taut. “Where is that creature?”
“Gone,” Christian said. “For now.” Turning to Fiona, he explained, “They had a Wyvern with them. That’s the only explanation as to how they got away so quickly.”
She grimaced “That does not help my distrustful nature. Now I will wonder if any of the Vampires before me are traitors.”
“I know.” Grayson pinched the top of his nose. “I’ve tested so many Vampires and humans for structures, but not all. I will test the Wyvern tomorrow for you, Fiona.”
He saw the look of hope in Fiona’s eyes, but she quickly pushed it away, shaking her head. “No, Grayson, it isn’t a priority. You need to rest and recover.”
“I don’t want you to doubt people you love,” Grayson said. “I know how that can be.”
“Doubt is part of life,” she answered, but he sensed part of her wanting to close off.
“There are so many Vampires coming to the city now that it is overwhelming to keep track of them,” Grayson admitted.
“We just have to assume that some enemies are among us and be careful,” Fiona said.
“I can locate Legion on my own and anyone with them. I have their scents. And anyone who has been near them will bear a trace of them.” Weryn gestured towards his nose. “Traitors cannot hide from me.”
“You’re not running after them in your condition,” Grayson said with a shake of his head. There was such a note of easy command in the boy’s voice that Weryn could see how he had convinced others he was the General.
His animal forms were all leaning towards Grayson. They wanted him to shift. They wanted him to curl around the boy and comfort him. For a moment, he imagined that Grayson wanted that, too. It was almost as if the boy’s body was leaning back towards him too.
“You do not command me, boy,” Weryn hissed.
And yet he stood there and made no attempt to leave. Grayson’s eyes. Those eyes looked at him with both hurt and anger. Yes, anger. If they had been silver–silver as steel, silver like the stars, silver as moonlight pools–then they might have looked like Ashyr’s. In a way. A small, small way.
“I do command you, Soldier!” Grayson glared at him.
Weryn reared back, but then a smile lifted his lips. “You have spirit, I’ll give you that. But playing at being an Immortal reborn? PlayingAshyrreborn is the utmost foolishness.”
