I forced myself forward, walking around the mother. A guttural noise came from beneath the blanket, a distorted cooing sound. My gods, I thought as I reached down, taking hold of the edge of the once plush blanket with gloved fingers. I tore it aside.
“Fucking gods.” Kieran staggered back, his hand falling from the hilt of his short sword.
A half-swaddled babe stared up at me with eyes the color of blood, the sockets like the darkest night set in ghastly pale chubby cheeks streaked in dried blood. It strained, lifting those small arms toward me, almost as if it wanted me to pick it up. But those tiny fingers had sharp fingernails—claws that had dug at its skin.
The babe hissed and whined, opening its mouth wide. There were only two bottom teeth—incisors that had sharpened. They appeared fragile, nothing more than grotesquely disfigured baby teeth, but they were strong enough to tear into flesh. To infect.
I tilted my head, seeing the marks on one inner arm, at the inside of the elbow. Puncture wounds. Just two of them. The arm was too small for the Craven to lodge all four canines into it. That hadn’t been necessary, though.
“The babe was drained and left to turn,” I stated flatly, keeping myself in check, locked down. “And it did.”
“That’s what I think,” Lev said.
“The babe infected the father and…”
And the rest was history.
The child squirmed, thrashing at the air. I turned my head, closing my eyes. I’d seen a lot of messed-up shit. Things I thought could never be topped. But this? This was something else entirely.
Feeding on babes wasn’t anything new, as sick as it was. It was what they did in the Temples to all the third sons and daughters—to Lev’s brother. But letting them turn? There were no words.
None.
I opened my eyes at the low, softer sound of a Craven’s wail.
“They have to be stopped.” Lev took off his hat, thrusting a hand through his blond hair. “They have to be.”
“They will be,” Kieran swore.
“And they will pay for this.”
I looked back at the babe, anger tightening my gut. Did the Maiden have any knowledge of this? That this kind of horror occurred while she was sneaking off to the Red Pearl or taking her lessons with the Priestess?
I didn’t know.
And it didn’t matter as I withdrew the bloodstone dagger and did what I had to. What was necessary.
Just like I would continue to do.
MEETING
WITH THE DUKE
“So, this is the
Hawke Flynn I’ve been hearing about,” Dorian Teerman, the Duke of Masadonia, observed from where he sat upon a settee of crimson velvet.
“I hope you’ve heard only good things,” I replied as I eyed the vampry before me.
With the heavy curtains drawn over the windows to block out the fading afternoon sun and the chamber lit by only a few scattered oil lamps, Teerman looked about as bloodless as one could get. Even his hair, so blond that it was nearly white, was devoid of color—of life.
I didn’t like the man.
It wasn’t just because he was an Ascended—an old one that must have been created shortly after the war.
The predator in me recognized the predator in him.
And it wanted at Teerman.
I didn’t show it as I stood in a chamber connected to the Teermans’ private quarters, which seemed to have been constructed entirely of mahogany. The walls. The desk.
The credenza stocked with decanters of liquor. There were several canes propped against one wall, all but one made of mahogany. The other was a deep, dark red and appeared to have been fashioned from the wood of a Blood Forest tree.
“Glowing recommendations from both the capital and the Commander,” he said, his obsidian gaze briefly flicking to where Jansen stood beside me. “And my dear wife.”
I tilted my head to the side, thinking of the family in the tenements. The babe. Did the Duke even know that one of his vamprys was leaving infants to turn Craven?
If so, I doubted the bastard cared.
“She likes to look at you,” he added, sipping from his glass of whiskey. How alcohol affected the Ascended always amused me. Despite no longer needing food or water for their bodies to survive, the Ascended had to enjoy libations carefully as they were far more susceptible to the effects of liquor. “Though I imagine that’s something you’re not entirely surprised to hear.”
I wondered how careful he was being with that whiskey today, especially ahead of the City Council session that would be held shortly. “It is not.”
Teerman chuckled, the smooth skin at his eyes not even crinkling. The sound was as cold as the close-lipped smile I was sure he believed was warm and friendly. Instead, the curve of his lips reminded me of a pit viper. I half-expected a forked tongue to appear.
“No false modesty? Refreshing. I approve.” He inclined his chin. “I’m of the opinion that those who deny what is obvious to all around are most disingenuous.”
I could give two fucks about his opinions.
“And that takes assertiveness and confidence,” he continued. “Two things needed if you are to join the Royal Guard as one of the Maiden’s personal guards. But one needs more than just that.”
I doubted he knew what it took to protect a newborn hare, let alone an actual person, but that didn’t stop him from detailing what he believed. One thing most Ascended had in common—they so enjoyed hearing themselves speak.
“One needs not only mastery of a weapon and strength but also the skill to foresee any possible threats. The latter was something Ryan Keal, unfortunately, did not possess.”
Wait. My brows knitted. Keal’s first name was Rylan. Not Ryan. However, I was not even remotely surprised to hear that Teerman didn’t know the man’s first name.
“But more is needed if one is to take on the duty of protecting one of the most valuable assets to the kingdom.
Nothing you have accomplished or will is as important as what the Maiden will do for our kingdom. She will usher in a new era,” he went on, and of course, he didn’t elaborate on exactly what this new era was or how it would be accomplished. “Any who guard the Maiden must be willing to forsake their lives for hers without hesitation. They must have no fear of death.”
“I disagree with that,” I said.
The pathetic excuse of a smile froze as Jansen tensed beside me. “With all due respect, Your Grace,” I added, holding his dark, bottomless stare, “if one does not fear death, then they do not fear failure. They rely too heavily on being rewarded with a hero’s welcome upon that death. I fear death, as it means I have failed.”
Teerman’s head cocked to the right.
“I also believe that the duty of guarding the Maiden does not require one to sacrifice their life,” I said. “As those who guard her should be skilled enough to defend their life as well as hers.”
“Interesting,” Teerman murmured, falling quiet as he took a short drink of his whiskey. “And how would you have handled what occurred in the gardens?”
The irony that it wouldn’t have even happened if I’d been there didn’t pass me by. “The attempt to take the Maiden occurred where the night roses bloom, correct?” I already knew the answer but waited for his nod. “That is also where the jacaranda trees have damaged the inner curtain wall of Castle Teerman, a location in the garden that is particularly dangerous.”