“We need to get out of here!”
He nodded absentmindedly. “We will.”
Once he had a better look.
He twisted his dagger, moving slowly in case an enchantment surrounded the tomb.
“Oh, gods. King Sebastian will surely have my head for this,” Vivienne bemoaned as she trailed him.
“Just a minute longer,” Marius mumbled, standing before the vacant tomb.
He was tall, and the stone was broken in such a way that he could see to the bottom of the coffin by craning his neck.
If the air around Hoarfrost Hollow smelled like death, the inside of the tomb stank of hell itself.
His first instinct was to turn and run, but he forced himself to remain in place and study the broken stone. The interior was a thing of nightmares, covered in long, thin, rusty stripes that ran down the smooth shale.
Claw marks, he realized with a shudder.
The First must have fought back when it was entombed. Had the vampire screamed when it was bound and thrown in here?
Marius knew about the Firsts, of course. Blessed by Isvana and Ithiar, the goddess of the moon and the god of blood, the Twelve were the original vampires. They had lived for thousands of years before they all lost control one fateful night. No one knew how it started, but they murdered hundreds of humans and painted the entire country crimson.
Thank the gods, the Firsts were stopped. Brave witches entrappedthem, cutting their murderous rampages short and throwing them into the tombs. Ancient, powerful threads of magic were woven around the stones, locking the Twelve in place and sentencing them to spend the remainder of their eternal lives in the enchanted coffins.
They were awake, but not. Alert, but bound.
They knew what was happening to them, that time was passing, but they had no blood.
What kind of existence had the Firsts lived since their imprisonment, going century after century without sustenance?
If the gouges in the stone were any sign, an unpleasant one at best.
Shuddering, Marius stepped back.
The First was gone. Footprints, half-buried in snow, led away from the circle of tombs.
“Good, you’re done.” Vivienne stood right behind him, gripping her sword as she glared at him. “We can leave now, right? We need to return to Castle Sanguis and report this to the king and queen.”
“No, we have to find the First.” He’d already been planning on it, but now that he’d seen the empty tomb, he was certain this was the right move.
“Gods above. I was afraid you’d say that.” Vivienne sheathed her sword and groaned, pressing a fist to her temple. She inhaled sharply before pinning him with her black glare. “Youdorealize the Firsts were entombed here because they went mad, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But it’s not like there’s an entire hoard of them to catch.” He gestured to the other closed tombs. “There’s only one. How bad could it be?”
He wasn’t a child, still suffering from the Wasting Illness. He was strong, and he could take on a single vampire and survive.
“How bad?” Vivienne choked, her eyes bulging out of her head. “How. Bad?”
“I know how to deal with vampires,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I’ve trained for this.”
There were many ways to kill a vampire. Decapitation, a stake to the heart, fire, silver. He knew them all.
Vivienne’s lips curled into a snarl, and a dangerous glint entered her obsidian eyes. “Oh, the prince thinks he knows how to deal with vampires, does he?”
His hackles rose. How dare she use that tone with him? He wasn’t some helpless child to be mocked.
“I do know how to deal with them.”
