"Jacob!" I call, "Where'd you put the green beans?" The stew's almost done, and I can't find them anywhere. I know they're not his favorite, but he needs a balanced diet, and they're about to go off.

"Come on little sis, can't we skip the beans this time?" he says with a grin.

"That's what you said last time and the time before. Stop being childish."

"Okay, okay." He raises his hands. "They're behind you, top cupboard."

I try reach for them, but they're pushed right up against the back of the highest shelf. "Jacob!"

"Hmm?" He raises his brows, mocking me with his green and gold eyes.

"Give me the beans or you'll be sorry," I growl.

"Julia," he shakes his head.

"The beans."

"Julia."

My eyes shoot open, and I squint to focus on the figure standing over me. It's Rahlan. I'm wrapped in the messy duvet on the bed at the inn. My heart sinks as reality sets in. Cooking dinner with my brother was just a dream.

I sit up, leaving the blanket over my legs. Morning sunlight streams in through the window, but my body yearns to fall back into the bed's soft cushions. I slept like a baby... in the arms of my captor.

Rahlan draws his sword, and I rub the sleep out of my eyes.

He takes a seat on the wooden chair and grabs a sharpening stone off the desk.

"Who's Jacob?" he asks.

"No one." The less he knows about me and my family, the better. The last thing I need is to drop clues which would help him track me down after I escape.

Suspicion flashes across his features, but he quickly dismisses it. The one upside of him thinking so little of humans, with the exception of Ivan, is that he couldn't care less about the details of my life.

I nudge up against the window and peer out at the street three stories below. The vampires weave between one another, some carrying wood, full buckets and heavy sacks. I'd have thought they were humans were it not for their pale complexions and exotic maroon clothing.

Sparks fly off Rahlan's blade as he scrapes it over the stone. The thought that he's sharpening it for his next encounter with humans makes me uneasy.

My gaze drifts back to the street. It's odd watching the vampire's completing their daily chores. Up till now, I've only seen them in brothels or angry crowds, but here they look so ordinary.

I spot the occasional human – men and women being led by their vampire masters- no, their vampire captors. One human woman seems to move freely through the crowd. She must have some special privileges the others don't.

Rahlan opens the door and stands aside. "Are you coming?"

I slide out from under the blankets and approach, stretching my arms. "I'm guessing that framing it as a request is another formality?"

He slaps the small of my back, making me spring forward out the room. I whip around and glare daggers at him.

"You're catching on," He closes the door. "Now are you going to wobble down those stairs at a reasonable pace, or do you need further encouragement?"

"Asshole," I grumble.

His eyes narrow, and I hurry down the stairs before he gets near.

As I reach the ground floor, a delicious smell grabs my attention. There's a table covered with freshly baked bread, cheese and strawberries.

I'm drawn to it, my mouth watering. I haven't had a full meal in two days, and this marvelous food is taunting me. Such a variety of expensive pieces could only be for a nobleman. But vampires only eat meat. What would a human nobleman be doing in a city like this?

Rahlan converses with the innkeeper. I'm tempted to pinch a block of cheese but quickly swat the idea away. This city could have brutal repercussions for stealing, especially from someone wealthy enough to afford such a meal.

Rahlan collected apples for me before, so it's not like he intentionally wants me to go hungry. I stand behind him and wait for their conversation to end, worried that interrupting him may spoil his mood.

He finally turns away from the desk.

"Lord Rahlan?" I ask.

His gaze lands on me.

I hold one arm in the other, keeping my gaze on his chest. "Do you think..." I trail off. All my confidence just disappears when asking for food. It's admitting that I rely on him, and it's embarrassing to be so dependent.

I avert my eyes. "Do you think I could have something to eat?"

"I ordered a meal for you this morning. Is it not here?" he asks, his face puzzled.

He quickly scans the room. "There." He points at the table.

My mouth hangs open. I can't believe what I'm hearing. That luxury meal is for me?

"Thank you!" I blurt out without thinking.

Before he has a chance to change his mind, I rush over to the table and pop a block of cheese in my mouth. It's divine. The bread is next. It has a warm puffy texture, fresh out of the oven. I follow it up with more cheese and a sweet strawberry. It feels like I'm committing a crime wolfing down this delicious food so fast.

Rahlan takes a seat at the table, and it dawns on me that I've been stuffing my face while standing hunched over the platter like a poorly mannered party guest. I quickly sit and take another delicious block of cheese.

He pinches a block between his fingers and brings it to his nose to inspect. "You really love this stuff?"

"Mmhmm," I nod with my mouth full.

He plops it in his mouth, and his face twists up the moment he bites. His fist presses against his lips as he forces it down, and I cover my mouth laughing. His expression is priceless.

"'Tis spoiled milk," he says with his face still twisted up.

My laughing calms down into smaller giggles. I take another block of cheese with a smile to show my delight, and he scrunches up his nose.

Grabbing another piece of bread reveals a small tin hidden underneath. I pop it open and gasp at the sight – two biscuits. Biting one releases a sweet inner filling. Honey biscuits!

I can barely contain my excitement or my smile. I haven't had honey biscuits in years, and they're even sweeter than I remember. Each biscuit is no bigger than my palm, and the first one's gone in just four bites. It takes all my willpower not to devour the second one too.

I close the tin and place it on my lap. Jacob will be ecstatic when I bring him a honey biscuit. It may be small, but it's delicious – just like Mom used to make them.

A few minutes later, I'm licking my fingers having finished all the food. That must've been the highlight of my week.

Rahlan's stare wipes the smile off my face. He pushes back his chair and pats his lap. "My turn."

My eyes dart between his lap and his lips. They hide razor teeth that seem reserved just for me.

He clears his throat, and I quickly stand. My gaze is drawn to his huge arms, then the sword on his belt. I have to obey him. He's going to syphon my blood regardless of if I resist.

I sit on his lap, and his arms snake around my middle. He tucks my hair over my shoulder, exposing the crook of my neck.

His teeth poke my skin, and I suck in a breath. It doesn't hurt as much as it used to. Does that mean my body's getting used to it? No. Impossible. He must've changed his technique.

The innkeeper doesn't spare us a glance, like it's something she sees every day. This is a normal part of her life. I don't want this to be a normal part of mine, but it's happened so many times that I've already lost count.

The minutes pass, and soon my heart is pounding. He retracts his fangs and pinches the wound. That couldn't be over soon enough.

The bleeding stops. I try stand, but his arms tighten around my waist.

"Julia," he begins. I crane my neck to get a view of him. "You may find this difficult to believe, but a couple hours in the stocks is a rather light-handed punishment for trying to flee. If you attempt to escape again, 'tis likely that you will be captured by someone less kind."

"How thoughtful," I spit.

"Runaways are executed, and my plans require that you live, so such an event would be rather inconvenient."

Inconvenient. Good to know that my death would be nothing more than an inconvenience to him.

He pushes me off, and I shoot him a dirty look.

He heads out the door, and I follow onto the busy street clutching the small biscuit tin. Butterflies fill my stomach. This low-cut nightgown is only really appropriate for indoor use.

"Stay by my side, and pay attention this time," he says.

We head to the town center, passing the stage and pillory. It has no victim today, but it's still littered with mud and rotten food. The vampires go about their day, none even glancing in my direction. Maybe they don't recognize me without the mud.

We pass the stage and enter a shop. The ceiling is almost twice the height I expected, and the walls are lined with leather garments. Some are decorated with metal strips and others with fur. There's even a small collection of daggers in the corner.

"I wish to purchase a fitted suit of heavy hide armor," Rahlan says to the vampire shopkeeper.

The garments hung on the wall are thick, with many layers of leather sewn together. I want to reach out and feel their texture, but being a little human captive, I don't think I'm allowed.

Both sets of eyes land on me, and Rahlan signals to come closer.

I cautiously approach. What did I do?

The shopkeeper wraps a measuring tape around my middle, and I tense. It's especially nerve-racking when a vampire that's not Rahlan puts their hands on me. One of them is more than enough.

His tape wraps around my midriff, then my waist and my chest. He checks the length of my legs, my arms, and the width of my shoulders.

Satisfied with my measurements, the shopkeeper picks a pair of brown leather pants and tunic off the wall. He lays them out on a large table and draws his knife along the tunic's side. The tape is stretched out as he makes a series of marks along its edge, then the cut is sewn closed, with the material overlaid to make it smaller.

"You're buying me armor?" I whisper to Rahlan, puzzled.

"I stated that I prefer you alive, and today we embark on the campaign."

I gulp. "You're-you're riding with me into battle?" I didn't think he'd go so far as to drag me into the fray, especially against my own people.

The shopkeeper hands the finished items to Rahlan, who then drops them in my arms. All eyes are on me again, urging me to do something.

I grab a long linen offcut from the desk and slide into a little nook out of their view. Ditching the nightgown, I tear the linen in half and wrap it around myself to act as a crude bra and underwear.

The pants stick tight to my skin as I pull them up. They're composed of alternating layers of leather and wool. The tunic hugs my middle and is heavy on my shoulders, but it has an inner woolen lining to keep me snug.

I wobble back into their view, not yet used to the stiff pants.

"Perfect," Rahlan says.

"It's much heavier than yours?" I say confused, thinking back to the time I spent wearing his coat.

"You're softer than me. You need the extra protection."

"I bet I could protect myself even better with one of those." I point to the shelf stacked with knives.

He chuckles and hands me a pair of boots. They're large and heavy, reminding me of his own. I slip off my thin homemade shoes and step into them.

Rahlan pays the shopkeeper with a couple of the glass pieces from his bag, and we head back out to the street.

We pass many vampires and the occasional human slave. I keep my eyes peeled in hopes of spotting someone I know. Not that I'd wish this fate upon others, but a familiar face would make me feel less isolated in this foreign land.

We stop at a stable, and Rahlan inspects the horses on display. He ignores all but the destriers, horses bred for war. He settles on a stallion with a black coat, just like the one he owned before, except for its white feet.

He rests his hand on the bridge of the stallion's nose. It lets out a breath, making his high collar flutter.

"I'll take this one," Rahlan says to the stable master.

"He's fifteen Prymni," the stable master says.

Rahlan picks out the glass ornaments from his bag and hands them over. He leads the horse by the reins onto the street and straps his bag to its side. I'm grateful that I won't have to carry that thing anymore.

I slip the biscuit tin in his bag, and he gives me an odd look.

"I'm saving it for later," I say.

He climbs on the saddle, and I have to crane my neck back even further to meet his gaze. I don't know what Neil and his companions were thinking going up in arms against this man.

He offers me a hand. I take it, and he pulls me up on the horse. I'm seated right in front of him, imprisoned between his arms. He has no trouble seeing over my head.

My fingers lock around the edge of the saddle, and I watch the horse's huge muscles move as Rahlan steers it towards the city gate.

"What are you naming him?" I ask.

"I have yet to decide," he says.

"What about Mittens?"

He almost chokes at my suggestion.

"What? It's a cute name."

"Yes." He clears his throat.

We leave through the huge gate we entered just two days ago. Even on horseback, I don't even reach a quarter of the way to the top.

My body tenses at the sight outside the city. There's at least a hundred, no, two hundred vampires. Each of them is dressed in either leather or fur armor. They're tending to horses, loading supplies, and sharpening their swords. I've never seen so many of them in one place, and I don't like it.

Rahlan notices me stiffen. "Looking forward to reuniting with your friend?"