‘“I mean you’re not particularly strong.” Talon motioned to the crushed wretched. “Strong as an ordinary paleblood, of course, but certainly not one descended from the Blood Dyvok. You have no affinity for beasts, no resilience to wounds of the flesh, so that strikes Chastain and Voss off the list. But it seems you’ve as much talent for emotional manipulation as a cuntful of cold water, so you can’t be Ilon, either.”
‘“So … what am I?”
‘Talon looked me over with sour expression. “You’re a frailblood.”
‘I looked to my master. “A what?”
‘“The child of a vampire too young and weak to have passed on his legacy,” Talon replied. “You have no bloodline. No bloodgifts, other than those we all of us share.”
‘The pain of my wounds was forgotten. I could feel my belly sinking without quite knowing why. “A-are you certain? Perhaps you’ve not tested me ri—”
‘“I have been Seraph of the Hunt for a decade, boy. I have conducted this Trial enough to know a frailblood when I see one.” Talon’s lip curled. “And I see one in you.”
‘Sweeping his moustache, the seraph stalked away across the sevenstar. Sister Aoife at last reached out towards me, patted my bloody shoulder as she murmured, “You shall still do God’s work here, Initiate. Keep the Mothermaid’s love in your heart and the Almighty’s teachings in your head, and all shall be well.”
‘I looked to Greyhand and Abbot Khalid, my gut sinking. And as I stood there in the rush of the bloodhymn, my torn limbs shaking, sweat-damp hair hanging over my eyes, I heard Talon’s parting blow like a punch to my belly.
‘“Disappointing.”’
XI
HOW STORIES WORK
‘DISAPPOINTING.
‘That was the word hanging over my head later that night. If Master Greyhand was discouraged at the news about his new apprentice, he hid it well – remaining stoic as ever as he walked me back to Barracks. But still, Forgemaster Argyle’s dark scowl, Prioress Charlotte’s pursed lips, Seraph Talon’s words – none of them would leave me. And as I sat on my bed cleaning the blood out of my new boots, I could still hear his voice ringing in my ears.
‘Disappointing.
‘“Should’ve knocked his fucking block off anyway,” I growled.
‘“Well, look what the maggots left behind,” came a voice.
‘I glanced up and found Aaron de Coste staring at me from the Barracks door. He stood with another initiate – a tall, dark-haired lad named de Séverin, who carried himself in the same silver-spoon-up-his-arse manner as de Coste. From the shit-eating grin on Aaron’s face, word of my Trial had already circulated among the other initiates.
‘“I knew you were lowborn, Kitten,” he sneered. “But not so low as that.”
‘“Eat shit, de Coste. I’ve not the patience for this now, I warn you.”
‘“I suppose it makes sense,” the lordling mused to de Séverin. “Vampire peasants bedding human peasants. All part of the gutter’s rich tapestry?”
‘His crony chuckled as the fire inside me flared.
‘“My mother was no peasant. She was of the house of de León.”
‘“Oh, madame of the manor, I’m sure. That squalid little hole we dragged you out of was her summer home, then?” Aaron frowned, as if in thought. “Summer hovel, perhaps?”
‘De Coste was older than I. Three years, give or take, and he had a few inches on me back then. I wasn’t certain I could take him, but I swore to God if he made one more crack about my mama, I’d fucking try.
‘“So I’ve not got a bloodline,” I snapped. “I’m still paleblood. I can still fight.”
‘De Coste chuckled. “I’m certain the Forever King is trembling in his boots.”
‘“He fucking should be,” I spat, returning to cleaning mine.
‘The lordling wandered to his cot, picked up a copy of the Testaments by his bedside. But he still stared at me. “That’s how you see yourself, is it? Plucky little Gabriel de León, charging up to Fabién Voss’s throne of corpses with his new silver sword and saving the realm single-handed?” Aaron chuckled. “You really have no bloody idea what’s happening here, do you?”
‘“I know all I need to. I know I was fated to be here. And I know this Order is the one true hope against the Forever King.”
‘“We’re the true hope against nothing, Kitten.”
‘I scowled. “What do you mean by that?”
‘“I mean that my brother Jean-Luc is a chevalier in the imperial army at Augustin. The Golden Host. The forces being mustered in the capital will annihilate the Forever King before his shambling mongrels ever reach the Nordlund. Oh, our cause might be righteous. But the sad truth is, nobody at court believes the silversaints will make a difference.” Aaron waved to the Barracks about us with lip curled. “The only reason this monastery is being financed at all is because Empress Isabella is enamoured of mysticism, and Emperor Alexandre enjoys getting his cock sucked by his new bride.”
‘“That’s horseshit, de Coste,” I said.
‘“And what would you know about it, frailblood?” de Séverin sighed.
‘“I know God meant for me to be here. My sister died at the hands of these monsters. And if I can do something to stop them, I will.”
‘“Good for you,” Aaron said. “But in the end, for all your faith and fury, you’ll be nothing but piss in the wind. I mean, look at you. Ma famille can trace our lineage back to Maximille the Martyr. My mother is baronne of the richest province in Nordlund and—”
‘“And yet she wasn’t above bedding a vampire.”
‘De Coste fell silent as Theo Petit stepped through the doorway. The big lad was dressed in his leathers, but his tunic was unlaced, and I could see a hint of metallic ink beneath. A beautiful angel was tattooed from knuckles to elbow on his left forearm, and what looked to be a snarling bear was scribed on his chest. He had a plate of chicken legs in hand, and he flopped into bed, chewing noisily.
‘“That’s the funny thing about highborn women,” Theo mused. “They’re the same height as any other when they’re down on all fours.”
‘“Blood from the gutter and a mouth from the sewer,” de Séverin sneered. “If it isn’t Theo Petit. The answer to the question no one was asking.”
‘“We’re all the Dead’s bastards here, Aaron. We’re all shit on the bottom of the Emperor’s boots. We’re all damned.” Theo stuffed a chicken leg into his face and spoke to de Coste with his mouth full. “So give the tortured nobleson sermon a rest, eh?”
‘Aaron only scowled. “Just because you lost your master to the sangirè doesn’t give you leave to forget your manners, Petit. I am the senior initiate of this company.”
‘Theo stopped chewing a moment, eyes flashing.
‘“You make mention of my master again, we might have to test that theory, Aaron.”