Chapter Thirty One

The Messenger

Inerys could scarcely breathe.

For a moment, she was sure she was trapped in some fever dream, for what she had witnessed should have been impossible. The woman had changed faces. However, it was somehow the least of her immediate concerns. This stranger was like her. A vampire. One trapping her alone in her rooms, no less. On some instinctive level, she knew well before glimpsing the woman’s fangs.

Cold sweat gathered between her shoulders. She should run for the door, but if this woman’s body was anything like her own, the effort would be in vain. She may have better luck trying to bust through the nearest wall, instead.

The woman slowly lowered the tray to the table, not breaking eye contact. Her movements were careful and deliberate and as she straightened, she raised her hands in a placating manner. Long, black talons tipped each of her fingers, much like Inerys’ own. The sight sent a shiver down her spine, despite the woman’s gesture.

“Come now, I’m not here to harm you,” she said, an unfamiliar cadence to her voice, “Quite the contrary.”

Inerys hadn’t realized she was poised on the defensive, her own claws lengthened and at the ready. Ayduin taught her the basics, but in a real fight, she was unlikely to stand a chance, unless her passenger decided to take the reins once again.

“Who are you?” She demanded, quelling her rising panic.

The woman quirked a fanged smile and offered a crisp curtsy. “Thallan Adayne, at your service. To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m certain you already know the answer,” Inerys said tightly.

“While that may be the case, it’s far more polite to ask regardless, no?”

From a certain standpoint, she supposed it was. However, she hadn’t exactly planned on exchanging pleasantries at a time like this. Vampires were dangerous. She had learned that much first hand. In that case, she thought, perhaps it was best not to antagonize the first one who had not immediately attacked her on sight.

Warily, she said, “Inerys.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Inerys,” she said, inclining her head, “May we have a word?”

Did she have much choice?

At the very least, Thallan had yet to make any moves against her. Considering her disguise, she assumed she would prefer not to draw attention to herself during her visit. If things went south, Inerys could always scream and hope someone could reach her long enough to make a difference. Or alert someone of her presence, at the very least. Rhydian would return eventually, but there was no telling how long that might be. At present, no one else was on this level either.

Hesitantly, Inerys moved toward one of the sofas.

“Why are you here?” She asked, eyeing the other woman.

Though she was undoubtedly a vampire, Inerys had the impression she was somehow different. Her fangs were arranged in a configuration unlike her own and appeared to be longer and more narrow through the primary set along her upper jaw. She was closer in appearance to an Adai than she was to Ezra. But then again, the monster she’d met in the woods was her only real benchmark from which to judge. Outside herself. By contrast, the woman’s skin was olive in tone and utterly flawless, save a few stray freckles high upon her cheeks.

Thallan found her seat across from Inerys and neatly folded her hands within her lap.

“I was sent by our Patriarch, Mraize. It’s been some time since he has received an update on your condition, so he sent me to see you for myself. I believe he was beginning to worry after your health, given the circumstances of your Inheritance.”

“He’s worried about me?” She asked, surprised.

“Is that so difficult to believe? You’re one of us, after all. We don’t make habit of abandoning our own.”

“I was led to believe he may kill me outright due to my affiliation with the Matriarch.”

Thallan regarded her, as if considering her words. “Were I in your position, I would worry more about the Court and its Houses, than the Patriarch himself.”

“What use am I to him? If he isn’t after my head, why go through any of this trouble at all?”

Thallan briefly glanced in the direction of the closed door, one ear slightly angled. Her expression grew serious, settling on Inerys and causing her skin to prickle at its intensity. She resisted the urge to sink back in her seat like a scolded child, though she did reach to trace a finger along the ropey scar of her forearm.

“What I tell you must not leave this room,” Thallan said, “Do you understand?”

Inerys shifted uncomfortably. Unsettled as she was, this was an opportunity. She would be a fool not to hear what the woman had to say. Any insight into their kind would be of benefit to her, however minute.

“I understand,” she said.

“How much have you been told in regard to the Matriarch?”

“Little,” she admitted, “I know she was one of your rulers and that she killed one of the others before fleeing. Beyond that, nothing.”

She had assumed her lack of knowledge was by design. Either due to the Council’s wish to keep her in the dark as much as possible, or the Court’s known secrecy. It wasn’t as if she had any direct sources to question. Until now, she supposed.

“She was one of our Elders,” Thallan said, almost mournfully, “As was Leliana, may her spirit find peace. That much is true, though we’re still unsure why Maratezra turned on her in the first place. Nor why she slew the rest of her House prior to engaging her fellow Matriarch.”

“Her entire House?” Inerys questioned.

The woman’s eyes darkened a shade. “All forty-three members, including the children. She burned her entire bloodline to the ground in a single night. Until you, that is. So far as any of us are aware, you are the last of the Zeraphinian blood. If you die, so does your entire line. An entire people. That is why our Patriarch holds a vested interest in your well being.”

A thousand questions rose in her mind. Zeraphinian blood? Houses? She nearly longed for the days when she was simply a vampire. An oddity among Adai. Not the last branch of a dying tree.

“I was a mistake,” she whispered, “an accident.”

Not an heir and certainly not a savior.

“Be that as it may, it changes little,” Thallan said in a remarkably sympathetic manner. “Your creation was a stroke of luck, if not fate. Two of the five Elder blood lines have already been lost to the ages. Our people are not willing to lose a third.”

Her blood turned to ice in her veins.

“Are you here to take me away?” She asked, body drawing tight.

Thallan eased her own posture even further, poised, but otherwise unconcerned.

“As much as I may desire to, no. Mraize has made his will clear. In the interests of both continents, he wishes to proceed in good faith with the Arillian High Council. Until then, you will remain here and proceed as if we had never met.”

“I . . . see,” she said, unsure of whether or not to be relieved.

“That being said, I need you to swear to me that what we have discussed here tonight will not leave this room.”

If Rhydian knew she was here, he was certain to ask questions. To say nothing of Ayduin or Ephaxus. If she were to promise secrecy, only for her meeting to be discovered, what then? She would appear all the more guilty in the Council’s eyes.

“Can you promise no one will know you were here?”

“Undoubtedly,” she said without hesitation.

Inerys bit her lip, one hand straying to the wound Ezra had once left. Considering the woman had entered without raising suspicion, she was inclined to believe her. The only thing off about her was her scent and no one outside Inerys or the wyverns were likely to detect the oddity. Then, there was still the matter of her changing faces . . .

“All right. I won’t tell anyone about what you told me.”

“I appreciate it, but I will need more than your word, Inerys,” she said, “Swear it upon your Soul. Swear that what I have told you will never be disclosed to anyone, living or dead, beyond myself or the Patriarch.”

Her brow knit in confusion. Living or dead? She wondered how the latter made any difference.

Unsure of what else to say, she simply replied, “I swear it.”

The moment the words left her lips, her chest tightened. The pressure was not as severe as when the Shackles had been put into place, but it was a similar sensation. She gave a start, talons puncturing the soft fabric of the sofa, while one hand flew to the ache in her breast. What in spirit’s name had that been? Her wide eyes cast to Thallan.

“What did you do?”

“I did nothing,” Thallan said, satisfied. “We simply made a Soul pact. This was your first, I take it?”

Inerys lost a shaky breath at the lingering tingle. Her skin bristled and she found a deep, barely perceptible thread now tied the two women together. It was thin, little more than a string of spider silk, but present nonetheless.

“Something like that.”

She had heard Rhydian mention them in the past, but the subject had never come up in conversation again. Thinking back, there were a number of questions she should have asked. Sometimes she forgot how new she was to all this.

“In that case, let me put your mind at ease; the pact will not harm you, so long as you abide by our terms.”

“No speaking of this beyond us?”

She nodded her confirmation. “The Patriarch is the only exception. For obvious reasons. The subjects are bound to come up between the two of you.”

“I’m sure he has plenty to . . .discuss,” Inerys said.

“Indeed he does,” Thallan said.

“All in due time, I assume?”

A glint caught the woman’s frighteningly pale eyes. “Sooner than you might think, dear sister. Beyond confirming your health, he’s asked me to extend an invitation. When you’re ready, he wishes to speak with you in the Dreamscape.”

Inerys blinked. “The Dreamscape?”

“In short, a realm unique to the mind. Even those who are untrained enter each night as they sleep. Though it is possible to enter through meditation as well. When you’re ready, do so while holding this,” she said, placing a small opalescent stone upon the table between them. The surface of the circular stone bore thin, finely etched red script, the like of which Inerys had never seen before.

Hesitantly, Inerys reached for it, fingers stopping just shy of the offering.

“What does it do?”

“Since the two of you are not of the same bloodline, he cannot seek you out directly without a guide. This stone will act as a beacon. Meditate with it clasped in your hand and he will find you.”

He will find you.

Inerys wondered how literal that statement might be.

“He’ll be expecting me?” She guessed.

The woman nodded, rising to her feet as her hair began to dull and return to its unremarkable sandy blond.

“When you’re ready, yes. Preferably, sooner than late.”

“You’re not staying to ensure that I do?”

Thallan shook her head. “I will be missed soon enough. Drink while you can, as well. There’s no telling how far the Council’s hospitality will extend.”

Inerys wondered how long she had been embedded among the other apprentices. She knew a number of them were new . . .

Taking the stone, she murmured a soft, “Thank you.”

Thallan, now appearing no different than the apprentice she had been before, dipped her head.

“We will meet again soon, Inerys. Give Mraize my regards, if you would.”