It’s where my soldiers do their drills.
Its frame is forged from iron steel, as is the grille, with each square around two handspans in width and set with thick and clear sapphire crystal glass.
The previous window was smashed and rusted, haphazardly patched over with planks of wood, the miserable contraption allowing the bitter cold to seep in during winter.
Even I prefer warmth to the cold, still.
A familiar sound—boots crunching on snow—steals my attention.
Moments later, someone stumbles across the courtyard; a big, hulking figure dressed in furs and leathers.
Someone familiar.
An amused snort escapes me. You idiot.
I reach the tower and quickly make my way down the stairs, reaching the bottom before said idiot can take another step.
In the blink of an eye, I’m out the door and standing beside him with my arm around his shoulders.
“You look like you need a shoulder to steady you, Commander,” I say amicably, unable to keep the amusement from my voice.
His entire body goes stiff. He slowly turns his head to glare at me. “Goddess-damn-you, you bastard. Your Highness,” he says, slurring his words. “You know I hate it when you sneak up on me like that.”
“A screaming toddler could have snuck up on you in your current state, Kaithar. Do yourself a favor and get into bed and sleep for at least ten hours. That’s an order. I can’t have you looking like death warmed up at drills tomorrow.” My nose wrinkles. “There are at least three different layers of perfume on you, Kaith. I take it you had a worthwhile evening, then?”
Kaithar shrugs. “Tch. That cursed nose of yours. You know what? I think so. Can’t remember.” His grey eyes narrow as he looks me up and down. “Where are you going at this ungodly hour, Van? You’re not going to fool anyone in that getup, you know.”
“I have no desire to fool anyone,” I say quietly, allowing Kaithar to lean on me as he walks across the snow-covered flagstones. He’s a heavy bastard, but as I am now, I can shoulder his weight effortlessly. “Just being practical, is all.”
I let Kaithar’s drunken observation slide, but I know very well what he’s going on about.
I’m wearing what might be described as the simple garb of a woodsman. Loose woollen trousers and a simple grey tunic. Sturdy leather boots and a hooded cloak.
In the capital, someone of my station would never dress so humbly. The Rahavan Court would be outraged.
But living in Tyron allows me such freedoms.
Especially with the way I am now.
“So, you didn’t tell me where you’re going,” Kaithar growls as we enter the stairwell. “Got a lover’s tryst or something?”
“I do not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“There’s only so long you can prevent all womankind from entering the castle.”
“You know my reasons,” I growl. “The hunger is… unpredictable.”
The few women that I have encountered since my revival… their blood-scent was so tempting that I immediately sent them away. I fear what I might become if I were to ever succumb to such temptation.
The blood of men doesn’t smell so maddeningly sweet. I can control myself around them. As long as I surround myself with male soldiers and servants, my condition is manageable.
Kaithar staggers up the stairs, his footfalls so heavy he could wake the dead.
How can this bastard be so deadly and graceful on the battlefield—a pure menace with his heavy war axe—and yet so clumsy and lumbering when he’s had a few too many drinks?
It isn’t often, but when Kaithar gets on the booze, he goes hard.
“Van…” Kaithar’s tone turns serious—well, as serious as he can possibly be when he’s drunk and slurring his words. “You’re you. I don’t care what’s happened to your body. You’re as you as I’ve ever known you to be. You’ve already had enough power at your disposal in your lifetime, even before. If you wanted to turn into some evil bastard, you would have done so already. I should know. I’ve seen enough of them. You and I both. That’s why I’m loyal to you.”
“I appreciate your vote of confidence, Commander Bareem,” I say dryly as I deliver my old friend to the top of the stairs. “But there’s still so much about this infernal condition of mine that I still don’t understand.”
The books I ordered from the other side of the continent haven’t arrived yet. Arcanea Magikora and An Illustrated Guide to Vampyrkind are extremely rare and old texts I’ve been trying to obtain for some time.
The answers I seek… I am hoping beyond hope I’ll find them in those books.
As we walk down the corridor, Kaithar puts his big, heavy arm around my shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You always do. It doesn’t make me see you any differently, Your Highness. I’m just glad you’re still alive.”
I take more of Kaithar’s weight, refusing to allow him to stagger. “Kaith,” I say softly, a thorny vine curling around my heart. “It’s not often I say this, but thank you.”
“Tch. What for? You’re not going all sentimental on me now, are you? You know, it’s good to see you, Van. I haven’t seen your face in a while. I get uneasy, you know, with you locking yourself up in your chambers all the bloody time.”
“I have a lot of work to do,” I growl. “Feyrun Bengar left Tyron’s estates and finances in a mess.”
“Can’t argue with you there. The man was a complete moron. I don’t know what your father was thinking, keeping him as steward for so long. Never mind. You’ll have this place up to your usual standards in no time. You’ve already done enough, mind you. Nobody’s going to starve this winter.”
The castle registry is filled with records of many deaths from winters’ past. Babes, children, mothers, fathers. The registrars usually put sickness as the cause of death, but when I cross-referenced the granary records from those dates, it was quite obvious that they simply didn’t have enough food.
A knot of anger tightens within me.
I despise incompetence.
Especially incompetence that causes suffering.
I don’t tell Kaithar that father failed to deal with Duke Bengar because he didn’t know what was going on in Tyron. Lukiria is the center of everything, and as far as the nobles are concerned, Tyron is the end of the world; a barren, wintry province that is of no value and no consequence.
At last, we reach the simple wooden door that leads to Kaithar’s quarters.
“Well, thank you for dragging me all the way here, Your Highness.” Kaithar uncurls his arm from my shoulders and tries to execute the worst bow I’ve ever seen. “If you didn’t sneak up on me back there, I probably would have crawled into the nearest stairwell and fallen asleep.”
“And gotten yourself half-frozen to death in the process. At least now your snoring won’t wake half the bloody castle.”
“I don’t snore,” Kaithar says with a deadpan expression as he pushes the door open. A tendril of warm air escapes. One of the servants must’ve lit the fire before they went to bed.
Familiar scents swirl around me. Leather and blade oil. Clean linen and woodsmoke and salted meat.