“She’s lived a very long time, Vincent.”
The saturnine mood of our surroundings permeated us all. Lucian, still behaving as a demented tour guide, drew closer. “Blood, shadow, and erosborn have always been bonded by their need to feed on humans, and it was economical to share in their sacrifices. Kind of like the way humans eat every part of the cow.”
I didn’t believe he was helping our cause. You drifted to the center of the room where an expansive marble table stood, spotless, save for the thin layer of dust that had collected. The iron grate beneath the table was rusted black with blood.
“It smells like death,” you said.
“Unsettling as it is, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary for a bloodborn demoness,” Hyas said.
You rested one hand on the cool marble, trying to regain your composure. “Shhhh… give me a minute.”
Since entering into the Shade Vale, your face had taken on a leonine shape, which meant that my hair must be floating. I glanced across the room to see that Lucian’s was undulating as well. He always looked a bit ridiculous in a Shade Vale, so dashing and put-together in all aspects except for his hair. Meanwhile, the twins and Anika stared at you in awe, similar to my earlier experiences. Lucian brought the torch closer so that you might glow golden as well, giving them the full effect.
“You really are sunborn,” Hyas said.
“Why would I lie?” you asked. Aretha only shook her head at your naivety.
“You don’t understand,” Hyas said. “There hasn’t been a sunborn forthousandsof years.”
“Well, there must have been at least one, because I wasn’t immaculately conceived.” You closed your eyes to shut out any competing stimuli. “I hear something. It’s like, a buzzing.”
“Those are the souls.” Lucian motioned to the thousands of skulls surrounding us, Lena’s container of choice for her fate demons.
“A truly barbaric practice,” Aretha said.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “I’ve seen the battlefields where the warborn have been.” The skirmish that had brought me to Lior had been inspired by the war born, always whispering in the ears of ambitious rulers, telling them they needed more and more and more. Their rapacious greed knew no end.
“Warborn don’t steal souls,” Aretha answered tersely.
“No, they steal innocence and youth. The steal sons and daughters from their mothers’ clutches and leave their homelands drenched in blood.”
“A soldier’s death is an honorable one,” Aretha said.
“A fine way to justify human massacre.”
“Stop it,” you hissed, still trying to listen with your preternatural hearing. “I hear… heartbeats.”
“We all have heartbeats,” Hyas said smartly.
“Too many to be just us.” You walked, still with your eyes closed, to one of the stone shelves. “They’re behind here. It must be a false door.”
I came closer to inspect it while Lucian brought the torch and the warborn drew their blades. I studied the rows upon rows of skulls until I saw a lever at the very back of one shelf, the only thing not covered in dust.
“Prepare yourselves,” I said as I pulled the lever. The wall opened into what looked like a sanctuary, lit only by candlelight as though a vigil were taking place. Scattered around the room were cushions and sleeping mats, and laying atop of them were the Grigori elders, deep in slumber. There was a flash of movement at my left, and I raised my sword just in time to stay the hand of an attacking youth.
“Don’t move,” I compelled the solitary guard they’d left on duty.
“You’re not one of ours,” Aretha said to him, though he wore the warborn’s cape and pewter clasp. “Where did you get this clothing?”
“Her highness gave it to me and told me to wear it,” the soldier said, lifting his chin to motion to where Lena slumbered with the others.
“How long have you been here?” I asked him.
“An hour, maybe more.”
“How many times have you visited?” If they were smart, they’d bring the same guard every time as a lookout.
“Half a dozen times.”
