Killian’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flared. “So this is how it will be.”
“If what you have said is truly how you feel, then yes.”
He blinked, and for a moment, I could see his doubt and confusion warring.
“If you are finished trying to convince my bride to leave me, then I think it would be wise for you to inform your king of what has occurred here.”
I flinched at Adrian’s words and turned to face him. As I did, I caught a glimpse of the corpses beyond the fence and felt the blood drain from my face once more. Adrian shifted to block my view.
“And what exactly will I tell him?” Killian asked.
“That a whole village was slaughtered,” he said.
“By whom?” I asked.
Adrian’s eyes settled on mine, and despite the fierceness of his expression, his gaze seemed to soften.
“My guess would be magic.”
“There is no magic, save yours,” Killian accused.
“That is a myth of our existence,” Adrian said. “I have abilities, not magic.”
“I thought magic had been eradicated with the Burning,” I said.
“So long as spells exist, magic will prevail,” he said. “This is the kind of chaos humans make when they summon magic they cannot control.”
Magic was considered a gift, not a skill. Even before King Dragos ordered the Burning, those who were not born with magic were forbidden to speak spells.
“You are saying one of our own spoke this”—Killian gestured toward the village—“into existence?”
“Not necessarily,” Adrian said. “The spell could have been cast from anywhere.”
I felt even more dread at that thought.
“And do you really think my king will believe that? Knowing you were here?”
“My father will believe you, Commander,” I argued. “Adrian has told you what he thinks occurred. You should communicate that.”
Killian stared and kept his jaw tight, but after a moment, he bowed. Part of me wanted to go with him so I could tell my father what I’d seen myself. I knew Killian would not want to admit that his guards had neglected to travel this far. I also wondered if this village was destroyed, were the others?
The commander departed, and after a moment, I felt Adrian draw a piece of my hair behind my ear.
“How are you?” he asked.
I stared at him, my mouth slightly ajar. I didn’t know why it always surprised me that he asked if I was all right, and yet this was the third time.
“Will this happen again?” I asked.
I did not know much about magic. Once a spell was cast, was it like a plague? Did it continue until it had nothing to consume?
“It is hard to say without knowing what kind of spell was cast or by whom,” Adrian replied.
So he was telling me there was no way to fight it. I swallowed the thickness gathering in my throat.
“We have to bury them,” I said.
“We’ll have to burn them,” Adrian corrected, and despite the gentleness of his tone, I still flinched.
Until corpses began to rise from the dead, burning was for witches and those who were caught using magic—not victims of it.
“Do you think they will rise again?” I asked.
“No, but since we do not know what killed them, fire is best. It will cleanse the ground.”
*
Adrian returned to camp with me, and I managed to keep my tears at bay until we were inside the tent. He left me to cry, for which I was thankful, and returned later after I’d composed myself. We rode to the clearing together, the cold air stinging my wet face, and as we approached Vaida, I could see several bodies piled in the center of town through the open gate, all covered in white cloth. Adrian’s soldiers had been hard at work in my absence, and I admired the care they’d taken to wrap and stack them, even if it was only so they could be consumed with fire.
We kept our distance from the open gate as the vampires dropped torches upon the bodies and made their way out, closing the gate behind them. It wasn’t long before the smoke rose, spreading the smell of burning flesh.
As I watched the smoke rise, I spoke, not looking at Adrian. “How did you know this was a spell?”
“I am over two hundred years old,” he said as a way of answering.
It meant that he had lived during the Burning.
I had questions for him—questions about magic and witches and the world that he had existed in long before I was born—but I did not ask them, because there was a part of me that wondered if I could trust his answers.