Or.
Or, even worse, he would try to save me.
And Atrius could not do that. The Pythora King was his enemy. The Pythora King needed to remain his only focus. Not the Arachessen. He couldn’t save me and kill the Pythora King. Trying to might destroy him.
Somehow this was the possibility, not my execution, that left me breathless with terror. Strange, because it never would happen that way. Atrius was a ruthless king. He’d kill a traitor.
I told myself this, over and over, as he gazed at me with such concern, thumb rubbing the back of my hand.
I gave him a weak smile. “I just… I can’t think about any of that until that bastard is dead. That’s all.”
He nodded, like this made perfect sense to him.
“Of course,” he murmured.
It was now dark. The sun had set. Atrius stretched, then started to stand. “I’ll let you get dressed. Then we have work to do.”
But I caught his arm and pulled him back down. And before I knew what I was doing, my hands were on either side of his face, my mouth against his in a deep kiss.
After a moment of confusion, his stance softened, pulling me closer.
I kissed him for a long, long time.
37
The moment the sun went down, the night was bright with activity. Soldiers and healers crawled from their tents immediately, ready to tend to the wounded or to keep gathering supplies. Vampire healing had done wonders—my own wound was now little more than an afterthought.
I took the long way back to my own tent, walking along the coastline. In the distance, the moonlight caressed the rocks by the shore. I couldn’t help but think about what had happened there last night. Weaver, I wondered if I’d left claw marks on those rocks.
Then I abruptly stopped.
A distant presence caught my attention—a familiar presence. The pain in it left me breathless.
I climbed down to the shore and approached another cluster of jagged stone. The figure was curled up between them, sitting in the damp sand, knees pulled up to his chest. He had a blade that he twirled skillfully in one hand, driving it hard into the damp sand over and over again. THWACK.
“Erekkus,” I said softly.
He heard me. He didn’t look at me.
He yanked the blade from the sand, twirled it, drove it back in. THWACK.
I approached him and sat beside him. Up close, his aura vibrated with such agony, it tore through me like broken glass. His expression was drawn and exhausted. One side of his face was burned—his flesh purple and slightly blistering. He had not bothered to avoid the sun.
“I don’t need platitudes.” He sounded hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in days.
“I didn’t bring any.”
THWACK, as he stabbed the blade into the sand again.
“I don’t want to talk,” he said.
My heart broke for him. I knew that feeling so well. His soul screamed for his daughter—sitting this close, I could practically see the girl’s face.
I had read in my studies that many vampire societies, especially in nobility, resented their children—that they often killed or mutilated their offspring, viewing them as competition for their power. In the beginning, I had assumed that Atrius’s people were the same as all the others. Now, I was ashamed of that assumption.
Of course they weren’t the same. Atrius’s people had fought every injustice. They had nowhere to go. They banded together and found comfort in each other instead. Just as I had, long ago.
And now, they grieved just as I did.
“I’m not asking you to talk,” I said.
THWACK. Erekkus whirled to me, teeth exposed in a pained snarl.
“Then what the hell do you want?”
I laid my hand over his—around the hilt of his blade.
“I’m asking you to act, Erekkus.”
Beneath my touch, his knuckles trembled.
“I’m asking you,” I murmured, “to help us kill the bastard who took your daughter away.”
His jaw shook. His throat bobbed.
“Can you do that?” I whispered.
For a long moment, Erekkus didn’t move.
And then he stood, yanking his weapon from the sand.
“Yes,” he said.
The dawn was damp and humid. I was exhausted. The last two nights had been spent aggressively preparing for our imminent movement into the Zadra Pass. I’d been so weak I hadn’t even had a moment to steal away, even during the daytime, when Atrius would pull me away into his tent to discuss strategy with me. By the time he was sleeping, usually I was, too.
But today, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. I’d slipped out after Atrius had finally fallen asleep, creeping from the tent as silently as I could manage. I left him a note in case he woke before I returned—Gone for a walk. Be back soon.