Davide’s tone is bored, but his words remain polite. “Not exactly. While all Siphons drink animal blood as basic sustenance, human blood is superior and preferred. But we’ve found solutions that work for all parties. You’ll see. Just ahead…”
After a few moments, our horses round a bend and break into a wider thoroughfare that climbs up the slope of a hill.
Davide lifts his hand and points toward a large building structured almost like a temple, with tall windows and a large arch dominating its facade. Hanging from the crest of the arch is a bright red lantern that paints a long stretch of the street in its color.
“That is an establishment where humans can voluntarily sell their blood and are compensated generously for their service.”
My hackles rise. So this is the thin veneer of civility they’ve painted on top of the brutal truth. They have these humans whoring themselves out as blood bags.
And what’s to keep the Siphons from taking what they want any time? These complacent-looking humans would be sitting ducks.
Davide has the nerve to look entertained by my distaste. “Blood is also available for purchase in most markets,” he notes, “although fresh is always best.”
Something’s been bothering me. “What of unwilling Nocturnans? Like children? We know their blood is powerful for you, considered valuable.”
Elias has slowed to listen to our conversation, and he scowls. “Drinking from a child is a crime, both legal and moral.”
Meryn and I exchange looks. We know the Nabbers in Sturmfrost were working at the behest of the king, but still…
“Stark and I were part of an operation into Astreona a few months ago. There was an old temple at the border. It was mostly abandoned when we arrived, but it was clear children had been kept there.”
A line forms at Elias’s brow. “A temple… Oh! Yes, we rescue Nocturnan orphans.”
Meryn’s face flushes, and my hand tightens around the dagger at my hip.
“Excuse me?” she says, voice low and tense. “Youwhat?”
Davide crosses his arms. “Just as he said. Look around you. You know what your own country is like. When we find Nocturnan orphans at the front, we rehome them with families in Astreona. It is better for them.”
Rage washes through me. The fuckinggall.
Meryn, to her credit, doesn’t immediately stab them. Her mouth flattens into a thin line. “Right. Your king and I will be discussing that, then. My citizens belong tomycountry.”
“Every word of this could be a lie,” I caution Meryn.
“Obviously,” she says, her response testy. I wonder if she’s filled with regret about what happened between us, too.“But it’s still helpful to understand the lies they wish to tell.”
Meryn’s very familiar with lying Siphons, of course. I don’t need to remind her to be distrustful.
“How do Siphons control themselves?” she asks. “I mean, specifically, keep from turning all the human donors into Siphons as well.”
He laughs. “You make it sound…” Davide’s amused smile fades. “Ah. Apologies. You truly know very little.”
“I know some,” Meryn says. Her voice stays light, but her body tenses, violence only just suppressed. “But I’d wager that neither of us knows much about the other’s culture. So perhaps you could keep your opinions on my knowledge to yourself.”
Davide is silent, and Elias breaks in smoothly. “Please accept my apologies on behalf of Davide, Your Highness. We will endeavor to answer your questions without further comment.”
Or what, I wonder? How would Davide be punished for souring the negotiations between Meryn and their king before they start?
I entertain myself by imagining several lethal options.
Davide looks as if he’s smelled something rotten, but he answers the question regardless. “Transforming humans into Siphons is actually quite rare and strictly regulated. There would be no logic in converting our primary food source, and maintaining proper population balance is considered essential to Astreonan stability.”
Meryn scoffs. “Big words from an army that transforms our Nocturnan soldiers into bloodsuckers at whim.” I know she’s picturing her father’s face and remembering the stories I’ve told her of our own soldiers turning against us at the front, ripping apart my comrades with their teeth.
“We sometimes transform grievously wounded Nocturnan soldiers like your father, but otherwise, becoming a Siphon requires formal application and approval through established protocols. And field transformations are evaluated and documented for population records. Of course, accidents do happen, especially in the heat of battle,” Davide says stiffly.
Meryn and I are quiet as we both take that in.
