My armor cracked.
Nothing more.
I would have preferred to take another arrow to the arm.
An assignment to him. A prospect to Rhazien. A tool. A pawn. A thing to be traded.
Nothing more.
Life at the Hive might be comfortable. It might not be as horrific as I’d imagined. But it would be a familiar cage, and that fact ignited an ember of rage deep in my soul.
Nothing more.
I set my jaw in a hard line before I turned away. “You’re excused, Commander Thorne.”
Paying attention to my lesson with Oddo was damn near impossible. My wounded ego was front and center, claiming my focus.
I hadn’t made it up. There had been a spark between myself and Dommik. Why did it bother me so much that he wouldn’t admit it?
I shook out my hands at my sides, willing the insecurity out of my body and refused to look back at the dishonest Commander who was perched in the same bare spot as the day before in the Hall of Truths.
Oddo and I stood in front of a new massive tapestry. Its colors collided into an illustration containing multiple scenes of the Originals.
“What happened to the warlord? The one that abducted Ruelle,” I prompted the Master of Archives, determined to make a show of being an active listener and stellar student.
A satisfied smile lifted Oddo’s round cheeks. “Ruelle and her newly turned sisters sought out the encampment and eviscerated the warlord and his entire army.”
I didn’t know Ruelle, but I was proud of her. She accomplished a level of justice women could only dream about.
“While the original sisters killed most, dozens of vampires were accidentally born that night. The sisters didn’t understand the transformation they’d gone through or what they’d become. They also didn’t know how to curb their cravings, hide their predatory form, or prevent the change from happening to others. We call this the First Swell.”
We approached the final scene of the tapestry. Shimmering threads depicted a golden sunrise and dozens of discarded bodies. Some figures maintained their human form, others were simply black masses, charred from the sun.
Oddo gestured to the scene. “The eldest sister, Lorana, recognized the danger in their new state and that of their accidental fledglings. So, following the First Swell was the First Culling.”
“Culling?” A term I’d only heard used regarding flocks and herds if a sickness spread on a farm. It was always an unfortunate loss.
Oddo’s expression hardened as he continued, “It’s population control. There’s only been a need for a handful of them when our numbers become too great too quickly. We can’t upset nature’s balance. It’s why we limit how many new fledglings can be approved each year.”
The idea that vampires took their role into a balanced ecosystem of Atoris into consideration gave me an entirely new respect for the Hive. “I didn’t realize there was such a strategy to it.”
Oddo chuckled. “Well, we’ve come a long way since those early days.”
I looked back to the intricately blended embroidery and concluded, “They killed the fledglings.”
“They let them die.” He exhaled heavily and folded his hands together. “The sisters returned to their village and found shelter before sunrise. The other fledglings did not.”
We’d reached the end of the masterpiece and a heaviness pressed around us, like I’d attended a funeral for the fledglings of the First Swell.
“We honor them every year during the Summer Solstice. The shortened night reminds us of our own weaknesses and fragility. And we learned much from them, despite their brevity as immortals.” Oddo exuded pride. I assumed it wasn’t for the mass death but for the four original sisters and the preservation of their history.
I knew the feeling—the immeasurable pride. It consumed me when I’d looked down at Lydia, freshly born, squirming in a bundle of blankets. She was the small and perfect miracle my body had grown.
I cleared my throat and wiped my hands down the front of my dress. “Well. We know they were the first vampires born from the sisters but certainly not the last or else we wouldn’t be standing here.”
“Quite right.” Oddo flashed a knowing smile and ushered me to the next piece, an enormous mural of the sisters huddled together under a moonless, star-filled sky.
“The sisters became nomadic out of necessity. They learned they could feed on animal blood in the wild.”
