Vanquished Gods (Hallowed Games #2)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

I sat by the window overlooking the nighttime sea, breathing in the sweet scent of white poppies. Their petals seemed to almost glow in the gloom of my room. As I sipped my Aquitanian wine, I let the berry flavors roll over my tongue. Far below my window, beyond the cliffs, the waves sparkled under the moonlight.

After threatening Sion, I’d taken Leo back to Veilcross Haven. I’d left him in the hands of Godric, whom I’d armed with a hawthorn stake in case Sion returned.

I’d then spent the next eight hours training with Maelor in the forest. By the end of the day, I’d managed to actually hit a stag with my magic, just like I’d done with the wolf.

Still, my mind whirled with doubt. We only had a month for me to learn how to take down an entire army. With every passing day, I felt as if the danger was closing in on us, and I was woefully unprepared.

As I sipped my wine, the faint sound of screaming carried through the stone walls, raising goosebumps on my skin.

Quite clearly, this place was haunted. When I turned back to my room, where shadows danced on the walls, I shivered with a chill. My teeth chattered. Why did I feel sometimes like I was the one haunting the place?

A knock pulled me from my dismal thoughts, and my fingers tightened on my wineglass. “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and I tensed at the sight of Sion. He stepped into my room, golden eyes caching in the candlelight, smoldering like molten amber. Shadows carved his cheekbones.

He let the door shut behind him, and he studied me with something like curiosity. “You were partly right,” he said quietly. “I do know fear, but I don’t always remember what it feels like to be mortal. I should not have brought Leo into it. Especially not without asking you.”

I stared at him, stunned for a moment. “Is this an apology?”

“I don’t really do apologies, because I don’t normally give a fuck what anyone thinks or what they feel. But yes, I suppose it is.” A line formed between his eyebrows. “It’s very inconvenient, this feeling, worrying about what someone else thinks. And there’s another feeling…”

My eyebrows shot up. “Guilt?”

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, his brow furrowed. “I saw the look on the boy’s face, his terror. I usually shut that out, you know.”

“And Leo made you feel differently?”

His eyes slid to mine, his expression mournful. “It’s you . Sometimes, when I’m around you, I remember what it feels like to be alive. But that’s not really what I am anymore, and I’m not mortal. I never will be. I’ll never be the sort of person you’d admire, and I don’t even have the corrosive self-hatred like Maelor does that would make me palatable to you. I can’t let myself care too much, though, because if I smother my instincts when people scream, if I deny my impulses when they shake with fear, if I let their revulsion sink into my bones, I wouldn’t be here anymore. A vampire’s callousness is self-preservation.”

I took a sip of my wine, eyeing him over the rim of my glass. “And, what? I messed it up for you?”

A faint smile ghosted over his lips. “Yes, you messed it up for me.”

I again sipped the wine, my curiosity sparking. “When was the last time you felt fear?”

“I feel fear when someone I care about is in danger.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t much like the feeling.”

Dread crept over me like a cold shadow. He cared about Bran. I’d killed the person he cared about.

Suddenly, I desperately wanted to change the subject. “Are we doing dinner tonight?”

He smiled a bit more at that. “Of course. I was hoping you’d join us.”

And only then, for the first time as I thought of Bran, did a sharp tendril of guilt coil through my chest.

I walked through the torchlit halls dressed in a gown that Rowena had left in my wardrobe—white with tiny, flared sleeves, a plunging neckline, and a slit that went all the way to the top of my thigh. I’d tucked a little white poppy behind my ear.

Until I’d come to the castle, I’d never really felt glamorous. Now, I loved the freedom of traipsing around with my arms exposed, dressed in the most luxurious silks. But when I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a tall, arched window, I shuddered for a moment. In the white gown, I looked like him for a moment—the Serpent. In my reflection, a shadowy, phantom snake twined around my body. I blinked, and the vision disappeared.

I smoothed out my dress.

Turning, I kept walking until I reached the staircase that led up to the lunarium, where the doors stood open in invitation.

Tonight, Lydia sat across from me, and she smiled as I entered the open-air room. The windows, flanked by vine-covered columns, gave us a view of the star-flecked sea. A briny wind filtered in, sweeping over Sion, Maelor, and Lydia.

“Isn’t this the most beautiful dining room in the world?” asked Lydia. “I knew you’d love it here, Elowen. I tried to tell you.”

Maelor rose as I crossed to the table and pulled out a chair for me.

“Thank you,” I said, as I settled into my seat.

Sion leaned back in his chair. He hadn’t bothered to stand. “Such a gentleman, isn’t he?”

The moment I sat, a servant swept in with a plate for me—salmon, carrots, and buttery potatoes seasoned with rosemary. Sion picked up a bottle of wine and filled my glass.

Lydia heaved out a heavy sigh at the plate that had been set before her. “Finally, I can eat. I’ve been waiting for you to show up.” She cut into her food.

Sion frowned at me. “Why wait to eat? I don’t understand it.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s a human convention.” I took a bite of salmon and potato, closing my eyes, savoring the rich taste.

Across the table, Lydia moaned. “I’ve never had food like this. Not even in my father’s manor house.”

Sion flashed a dark smile. “That’s because your father is a cunt.”

“Change of subject.” With a nervous smile at Lydia, I said, “Today was a success, I think, with practicing my magic. Maelor helped me a great deal. I actually killed a stag.”

Sion glanced at Maelor. “He brought it to the kitchens. Our cooks will prepare it for the mortals. I believe they’re slowly roasting the meat now.”

Lydia fluttered her eyelashes at me. “Isn’t this place perfection? I wish Anselm could see it—but he wouldn’t really have a role here, would he?”

“Do you miss him? Anselm?” I asked.

She cleared her throat as she lowered her fork. She was probably wishing she hadn’t brought his name into it. We’d both been in love with him at one point, until I started to kill people with my touch, and then Lydia was finally able to get what she wanted.

She lowered her fork. “Yes, I do miss Anselm, of course. I’ve loved him for my whole life. But we have a higher calling now, don’t we? The Order has been a toxin poisoning our kingdom since before we were born. You and I have the chance to fix that. We’re in the perfect place to hone our craft, and to help them make the navka pendants. And we’re not exactly deprived here, are we? We’re fed the best food, we live in luxury, and we’re completely safe.”

I lift my wineglass. “It is gorgeous here. The food, the clothes, the private bathtub. The views of the sea.” I raised my hands. “And I admit that I can now understand why a thrall would live here. Even without wanting to become a vampire, it’s a million times better than living as a beggar in the streets of Penore. It’s a better life than that of the women who have to endure sweaty thrusting in alleyways just to get enough money for food, or those thrown into prison for debt. But the danger? I’m not entirely convinced. Because if it it’s safe, can anyone tell me what all the screaming is in the castle? I hear it all the time.”

Maelor glanced at Sion. “Have you heard the screaming?”

Sion shrugged. “I’ll ask Aelius to look into it. I’ve appointed him as a temporary seneschal until Bran returns.”

“Have you heard anything about Bran?” asked Maelor.

I took a long, deep sip of my wine.

Sion twirled his wineglass between his fingers. “Not a word. When you interrogated that Luminarus from Ruefield, did you happen to ask him about Bran?”

“I did,” said Maelor. “But the man had no idea what I was talking about.”

“Do you think he was telling the truth?”

Maelor rested his elbows on the table and threaded his fingers together. “I’m certain he was telling the truth. If Bran is there, he didn’t know it. The Luminarus was in excruciating pain, and he gave up every other secret that I wanted to know.”

“I never had you pegged for a torturer, Maelor,” I said.

Sion shrugged slowly. “When it comes down to it, all vampires are survivors. We do what we must. Even those of us with polite manners, like Maelor. Survival instinct is what drives a vampire—that, and protecting our own. Maelor’s instinct told him that he needed to batter that soldier within an inch of his life until he gave up every secret that could save our lives. And you know what? Maelor’s instincts were correct.”

“I did let him live,” said Maelor quietly.

Sion lifted his goblet in a toast. He took a sip, then frowned at his glass. “I must say, it’s never as good as the fresh blood, is it?”

Protecting our own.

If they knew that I’d lit one of their oldest friends on fire, what would they do? Unease settled in my chest, and I took another long sip of the wine, letting myself build a little bit of a buzz.

“Careful, Elowen,” said Lydia. “You know how you get when you drink too much.”

I glared at her over the rim of my glass. “That was a long time ago.”

Sion’s golden eyes danced with amusement. “Oh, I absolutely have to hear this story.”

Lydia smiled across the table at me. “Elowen got drunk on mead. She stripped off her clothes at the beach, in front of me and Anselm, and then convinced us to run into the sea, naked as the day we were born. She said the goddess of the depths was calling to her.”

“I knew you used to be fun,” Sion murmured.

I cocked my head. “Well, something about killing everyone I touched dampened my spirits, I guess. Can’t say why.”

I leaned back in my chair, and as I did, something sharp pierced the skin on my forearm. I looked down to see blood streaming from a gash in my arm.

What the hell had caused that? I narrowed my eyes on a tiny razor clam shell that someone had affixed to the arm of my chair.

As I did, shadows spilled around me, the room growing colder, darker. When I looked up, I found Maelor’s eyes locked on me, darkening to black. His gaze slowly slid to the blood on my arm. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. The Maelor I knew had disappeared, leaving only wild hunger behind. He was unleashing; the monster inside him was coming out.

A knot tightened in my chest.

It was at that moment I realized I hadn’t drunk my hawthorn tincture that day, and I shifted backward in my chair.