Chapter Eleven

A Wound and a Curse

“You really think this is a good idea?” Ayduin asked.

Ruslan tucked his sleeve further over his bandaged wrist before he slipped a glove on. “The Sage says she’s stable enough for travel.”

“Physically, perhaps, but she’s still a vampire, Ruslan.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” he said, “I’ve made sure she’s had something to eat already, so we shouldn’t have any issues with her out in public. And if we do, you and I should be more than enough to subdue her if she gets out of hand.”

“I wasn’t planning on wrestling another vampire tonight,” she muttered.

“You won’t have to. You only have to help entertain one.”

She shot him a withering glare.

“Forgive me if I’m not enthusiastic about what that might entail.”

“She’s been pleasant, thus far,” he said, “I can’t imagine she’ll be as unruly as Ezra.”

“I certainly hope not.”

To be fair, neither of them had a true benchmark from which to measure. Vampires were a shady type that rarely strayed beyond their continent. Ezra had been an outlier, of course, but even she hadn’t gone on a mass killing spree the moment she set foot on Keldran soil. He had no reason to believe Inerys would either. Though she’d left the general public alone, he’d seen what had become of those who had contested the Matriarch’s flight south. His skin prickled at the memory. Some had been reduced to little more than fine sprays of red mist.

If Ayduin hadn’t approved of his plan, she would have knocked him upside the head by now for being a fool. He understood her reservations, of course, for he still held a few of his own. After all, their first real encounter with the species hadn’t been a pleasant one. Speaking with a vampire via courier or wyndstone was one thing, but seeing them in the flesh was another. Something about them unnerved his very Soul, to the point that when the young woman had growled earlier that day, he’d nearly drawn a blade on her on instinct. A certain measure of guilt lingered from the encounter. As much as it pained him to admit, on some subconscious level, he had been waiting for a reason to strike her down.

However, what had happened to her was an accident. He had to remind himself that she hadn’t become what she was willingly. It had been his own failure.

“How much are you planning to tell her?” Ayduin asked.

“As much as I can,” he said, “best she knows what she’s dealing with going forward. I’ve yet to reach out to the Patriarch, but I intend to tomorrow. With luck, I’ll have a better idea of what to disclose and what to omit. Until then, we’ll tell her about the situation at hand and do our best to gain her trust. Things will be far easier in the future, if she’s on our side.”

A lone, paranoid vampire was a dangerous thing, he knew.

“I hope you’re right about her, Ruslan.”

“If I’m not, she’s still of low enough Ascension to be dealt with quickly. I’m willing to give her a chance, though. I owe her that much.”

“You don’t owe her anything,” she argued. “You did your duty. We all did and if you’re bent on whipping yourself over what happened you might as well share the blame. You weren’t the only one engaging the Matriarch.”

His jaw clenched. “Even still.”

Clutching his upper arm, Ayduin brought him to a halt as she turned to face him.

“Your bleeding heart will be the death of you one day,” she said, searching his face, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he assured, “I’m only tired.”

“Don’t take me for a fool, Ruslan. A blind man could see something’s eating away at you. Speak.”

He sighed, glanced aside. “What if the Patriarch executes her the moment we turn her over?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to another, her own brow furrowing at the notion, but she said, “That’s a risk we’ll have to take. It’s not a pleasant one, there isn’t much of an alternative. I’d be more worried about the Council, but that is neither here nor there, at this point.”

“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see,” he said.

~*~

This mug smelled different from the last, but Inerys forced herself to down it all the same. She found herself strangely disappointed. The blood the apprentice had brought her lacked the same spice, the same power, as the last and she found herself craving something more substantial. While her Soul wasn’t particularly satisfied, she sensed it was content enough. For now, it would have to do.

“Thank you,” she said to the apprentice, who promptly deposited a fresh set of clothes upon the bed.

The woman’s heartbeat spiked, reminding Inerys of a frightened hare caught in a snare. Her posture was stiff and she appeared ready to bolt if Inerys so much as sneezed in her direction. She frowned, shifting uncomfortably on her feet as she set the mug aside. Was she really so terrifying?

The apprentice turned and gave a short bow. “Your ladyship,” she said.

Uncertain of what else to do, Inerys returned the gesture. People here were far more formal than they were among the Seven Cities. She feared she might inadvertently offend someone. If she hadn’t already.

The woman shuffled off and once she was beyond the threshold of the living quarters, all but sprinted back down the hall. Inerys sighed, her gaze lingering upon the open door a moment before she turned her attention to the pile of fresh linen. If she evoked such a response from the Adai, what would the purebloods make of her when she returned home? Or her fellow hounds, for that matter? It was an uncomfortable thought. The changes to her body may be permanent, but . . . maybe she could hide some of the physical changes the way she’d always hidden her ears. She didn’t smile much as it was, so perhaps her fangs would go unnoticed.

She cursed herself for even entertaining the notion. Of course someone would notice. Alaric would, and so would Vidaar and Nan. She had no doubt they could keep a secret, but someone else would find out eventually. Beyond that, she still had the current state of her Soul to contend with.

As much as it pained her, she needed help in order to repair the damage. The Shackles wouldn’t hold forever, nor did she have the knowledge to advance herself. A few days ago, she hadn’t even known such a thing were possible. The sorcerers had always been a secretive sort, perhaps they possessed similar knowledge. She imagined they did. How else could their magic be explained?

Thankfully, a pair of long black socks did wonders to hide the luminous skin of her lower extremities. Now, if only she had something for her hands. The sleeves of her tunic could only be pulled down so far. She frowned down at the faint blue light thrown off by her fingers, then tried shoving them into her pockets, to little avail. Perhaps she could convince Ruslan to purchase a pair of gloves as part of her provisions. The glowing fractals weren’t natural, she’d gathered that much, and were likely to draw unwanted attention.

She ran a hand through her foreign locks. Where once her hair had been a muddled shade of lighter blonde, it held a silvery hue with a few rogue strands of black sprinkled throughout. It was wavier than she remembered, though still fell just shy of her collarbone. With a resigned sigh, she fashioned it into a braid, careful as always to hide the tips of her ears.

As she finished tying off the end, she heard footsteps rounding the staircase outside. She smoothed the front of her sable tunic, a simple yet elegant garment, even if it didn't quite fit right around her waist or through the shoulders. For the time being, she could live with it. She was grateful to have proper clothes again in the first place. The thin shift she had been subject to before left her exposed and practically naked.

The twin footsteps turned down the hall. They were lighter and more measured than those of the apprentices. A curious thing she would have never noticed, were she still human. She peeked out from her bedroom before she fully emerged, just as Ruslan appeared in the doorway of the living quarters. He offered a half smile, bowing his head. The woman beside him, whom Inerys had never seen before, mirrored the gesture, yet absent the smile. Her skin was more silver than it was grey and her eyes were a gold-rimmed shade of rosy pink. The two Nar’Adai shared the same dark hair and refined features, though the woman’s countenance held a more calculated, reserved edge and she eyed Inerys with no small amount of suspicion.

“Inerys, this is my partner Ayduin. She’ll be joining us tonight.”

Inerys had almost forgotten her manners. “It’s good to meet you.”

The woman inclined her head. “Lady Inerys.”

Her cheeks heated. As far as she was concerned, she was the farthest thing from. She’d never borne a title in her life, nor had she any desire to.

“Are you ready?” Ruslan asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” she said, resisting the urge to wring her hands.

Having noticed, Ruslan smirked and pulled something from his pocket.

“These might help,” he said.

Her eyes grew wide.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she breathed.

Accepting the pair of worn gloves, she slipped them over her fingers and flexed her hands. A thread of tension left her shoulders and for a moment, she felt some measure of normalcy. She pulled down her sleeves and carefully tucked in the edges of the gloves. She nodded to herself. With luck, she’d raise fewer questions this way.

Satisfied, she followed the pair down the hall and up the wide spiral staircase. As she ascended the stairs, she ran a hand along the intricate floral carvings of the inner wall. She couldn’t recall noticing them before. Although, she hadn’t been fully coherent when she’d followed the Sage down into the lower levels. She hummed to herself, admiring the delicacy of the stone inlays until they reached the ground level.

Cool, fresh air caressed her skin as the doors were thrown open. She felt as though she’d stepped out of her own grave with the moon poised to greet her from its throne among the stars. It was a clear, cloudless night, the like of which was rare among the Seven Cities. The unease she often felt during such visible evenings never left. She couldn’t recall a single night where the mists did not linger in some capacity. Here, she could see everything.

Around her, white stone and flora abounded in a great, wide circle. The Tower grounds reminded Inerys of a six-pointed crown. Long, elegant arches linked the smaller, outer towers to one another while the central spire commanded the heart of the complex. Straight, clear paths of pale stone shown bright beneath the starlight, guiding her through raised garden beds of carefully managed herbs.

Each intersection was marked by a pair of tall, neatly trimmed trees laden with pearly, opalescent fruit. They appeared to be some sort of apple, yet Inerys had never encountered such a variety. Like everything else in the garden, they brimmed with power. Within them, she sensed untapped energy, ripe for the taking. She wondered if the spice found within them might soothe her Soul where the blood had failed. She had a feeling it would, though couldn’t bring herself to pick one as she passed beneath the branches. She wasn’t a thief.

Every now and again, she caught the rhythmic flutter of lunar moths as they flew from one blossom to the next, distracting her from the pungent scent of chamomile and valerian. Curiously, she found the herbs and earthen scents far more bearable than she’d anticipated. They were calming where just about everything else overwhelmed her. She almost feared venturing out into the streets. Night had fallen, yes, but there were still plenty of passers by outside the complex grounds.

“Everything all right?” Ayduin asked.

Blinking, Inerys glanced in their direction and realized she’d stopped dead in her tracks.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine,” she said, hurrying up the path, “forgive me, I was only admiring the gardens.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Ruslan said, “Impressive, aren’t they?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like them, even among the Sorcerer’s Guild. Though, I can’t say I’ve seen much of the Guild grounds,” she admitted.

Those had always been off limits to outsiders.

“The Sorcerer’s Guild?” He asked.

“They’re a . . .prevalent governing body. In the Seven Cities, at least,” she said, doing her best to describe them without sounding too callous, “I take it you don’t have them here?”

He shook his head. “No. But we have our fair share of factions. The Sage’s Tower, for instance.”

Inerys glanced back toward the central tower. Given the size of the complex, it certainly made sense. She wondered how many Sages called the tower home. Dozens?

“Come, we should find you some proper clothes while we have the chance,” he said.

Inerys was inclined to agree. Her pants were far too baggy for her liking and a hair too long. She wasn’t exactly a short woman, at least among humans, but she hardly came up to Ayduin’s shoulder. Who happened to be half a head shorter than her male counterpart. Beside them, she felt like a child.

During their exploits throughout the city, Inerys kept largely to herself. Between the ambient noise of the city and the barrage of foreign scents, she was all but overwhelmed. Dizzyingly so. In truth, it was a wonder she’d made it through their errands at all.

Most kept their distance from the trio, whether it was a result of the two uniformed Talhavar or her presence, she couldn’t tell. Although the more she thought about it, she was fairly certain the average citizen knew nothing of her condition. Outwardly, she appeared normal enough. If she smiled, that was another matter, but compared to some of the Adai she’d seen thus far, her fangs wouldn’t be entirely out of place. If they knew the truth, would they be as frightened of her as the Sage’s apprentices?

She wondered why Ruslan and the Sage herself had been so tolerant of her. His partner watched her with a measured eye even now, surely he felt some measure of discomfort in her presence as well? If he did, he gave no outward indication and for that, she was thankful. It was nice to have at least one person still treat her with some measure of decency.

He struck up small conversations here and there, though nothing beyond pleasantries or what pertained to the situation. So, they went about their business in relative silence and within the hour, Inerys found herself in possession of a new cloak, boots and a few sets of extra clothing more befitting of her frame. She had insisted on muted tones of grey and blue reminiscent of what she had worn to better suit the gloomy mists of the wilds. The cloth was of a higher quality than what she’d been able to afford among the city states, but she had chosen styles that were less than remarkable, even if she had been tempted to indulge in something more extravagant.

Adjusting her new cloak, a fine garment of slate grey similar to the one she’d lost, she set aside her daydreams and surveyed the streets ahead.

“Where are we off to now?”

“To the Talhavar branch of operations here in the city,” Ruslan replied. “If I recall, we still owe you some answers.”

Indeed they did.

Luckily, the garrison resided in the same district as the Sages Tower and up ahead, she made out a tall, thick structure against the backdrop of stars. It was not quite as tall as the Tower, but was twice as thick, if not more. In a way, it resembled the chopped stump of some mammoth tree. In fact, as they drew closer, Inerys was fairly certain it’s exactly what it was. She gaped. She’d seen trees of abnormal height within the depths of the Endari Wilds, but none like this.

Though the great stump comprised a majority of the military installation, it was surrounded by a tall stone wall. Inerys sensed a power set within, but couldn't make heads or tails of it. She could sense the presence of magic, but lacked the ability to distinguish one form from another. Being that it was a building of some importance, she surmised whatever magic within somehow reinforced the perimeter.

Those in uniform milled about or tended various posts along the grounds. None of which questioned her or her escort upon their entry. She breathed a shallow sigh of relief when they veered left once inside. The various arches and vaulted ceilings were hewn from the ancient stump itself, though the wood had long since turned to stone. It was polished in places where shades of red and pink swirled among duller tones of brown and off white. Long banners of indigo blue hung from the far wall beyond the entryway, bearing a variation of the insignia present on the back of Ayduin and Ruslan’s uniforms.

She was ushered into a lift that was far more sophisticated than anything she’d seen among the Seven Cities. Had they taken the stairs instead, Inerys wasn’t sure she would have survived. She’d lost count of the number of flights they passed after the twenty mark. When the lift finally came to a halt, Inerys released a shaky breath. Her knees were weak and she felt a bit dizzy, if she were being honest. There was a subtle, sickening quality to the lift’s ascension she’d never quite experienced, a hollowness to her gut.

“This is the guest wing,” Ruslan said, leading her down the corridor and around the corner, “It's often reserved for those of diplomatic importance. The general public is rarely allowed beyond the ground level unless they’re otherwise employed, so we shouldn’t be disturbed here.”

Diplomatic importance . . .she wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

She hooked her lower lip with a fang as she was led into what appeared to be a private study. A comfortable seating area laid off to one side, the main desk and corresponding bookshelves residing on the other. In a way, it was too clean, too impersonal to belong to anyone in particular.

“Why bring me here, then?”

He and Ayduin shared a look, an unspoken conversation passing between them. Then, he gestured toward one of the chairs. Hesitantly, she took a seat, eyeing the pair all the while.

“Because your very existence is about to become a matter of intercontinental significance, Inerys.”