I introduced Vanison Shirin to Sephania. Whenever we’d need to find him, I was the one who would search the catacombs and underground labyrinths for the silversmith, because I had an innate sense where he’d be hiding. I’ve known the human for over a decade, and his vampiric brother even longer.
Vanison was always a wily, ferrety man. There’s no great grief I feel at his loss, because Rirth was right: As silver became more abundant and readily available in Nuhav, Vanison became expendable. It’s the way of the world—a man once lauded for his access to forbidden goods became a means-nothing player in this savage political war once he lost his exclusive connection to silver.
There are many bit players just like Vanison. None with the reputation of the illicit trader, or even the skill of smithing heuses to iron the glittering ore into weaponry for the citizens and Silverknights.
As soon as the noose is around his neck, countless copycat rogues hiding in the shadows of Vanison Shirin will burst free and gleefully take his place. With him gone, there will be an opening to fill. It might become violent and deadly.
That doesn’t bother me either. Rogues and scoundrels killing each other is not a bad thing, in my eyes. It leaves less work for the Bronzes and Silverknights to do.
All we need to do now is make good on our promise to obtain heaps of silver for everyone involved in our rebellion. That might be easier said than done.
There was also the altercation my silverblood queen had with the sagging old priest in the room. They have a history, and I wonder what it is. If I learn this man, Archpriest Cullard, laid hands on my girl, there will be something much worse than violence visited upon him. I’ll make him pray he was never born.
Coaxing this information out of Sephania won’t be easy. She often stays mum about her past. She keeps things buried, only to spring free once faced with her past head-on, like this evening at the abandoned outpost meeting.
I won’t push her. There’s too much going on in her life to focus on things she doesn’t wish to think about. Archpriest Cullard’s time will come, and I will be right there by Sephania’s side when it does. So will the other men in her coven, who noticed the same pained reaction I did from her.
Our return journey to the Firehold is solemn. Sephania keeps her head bowed, staring at the ground as she walks. “He’s changed so much, Ant,” she complains to the leader of the Grimsons.
Antones says, “The change started after Master Lukain left us. I’m not surprised by this. It’s simply a natural progression of the man he was already becoming.”
“Savage, traitorous—”
“But to what end?” Antones cuts in. “You act as if the man’s villainous turn came from nowhere, for no reason.”
Lukain adds, “It’s as much my fault as anyone else’s. I helped turn him into what he is now: a ruthless fighter.”
Sephania lifts her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and gives Lukain a sad glance before looking past him to Antones—thecurrentleader of the Grimsons. The man who’s had problems with Rirth. “You make it sound like you agree with what he did to Vanison, Ant.”
Antones shrugs. “No one ever said this revolution was going to be pretty. I understand it, yes. Do I agree with it? That’s debatable.”
Marching on the outskirts of the group and watching ever shadowy nook and cranny, Skartovius says, “The greater concern is what his allies might do. Anything they do to aid the silversmith might jeopardize this tenuous truce we have with the Silverknights and Bronzes.”
“You’re talking about Indokkus,” I say.
He nods curtly. “Quite right, brother.”
I run a hand through my beard. “Indokkus was once part of your court.”
“I’m aware.”
I let the silence linger. Then, “Are you prepared to end him if he gets any ideas regarding his sibling?”
“You mean a jailbreak of some kind?” Skartovius hums. “I suppose Indokkus must meet the sword if—”
Seph lets out a dismal sound at the idea. She turns, walking backwards while throwing her arms up. “We can’t just go killing each other and fighting our allies! That defeats the whole purpose ofunity, you two.” She points a stern finger at Skar. “Don’t forget, Indokkus faithfully carried out your whims andbattles as part of your court for years. He fought with us during Trithea Plaza.”
“Aye, temptress, I know. Allegiances change. We can’t be certain he’s still an ally. Surely you remember Demilord Tymon.”
“And surelyyouremember Helget.”
They stare daggers at one another. I know they’ve fucked within the past week, finally getting Skartovius out of his exasperating rut, but now they seem right back where they started. Always pressing one another, as if their shared anger gets them geared up for the bedroom.
“Yes. One man betrays us, another helps us,” Skar murmurs. “We don’t know which side of the fence Indokkus falls on.”
“Then why don’t we ask him?” Lukain poses. “If he’s a man you’ve known for decades, who has followed you loyally, then surely you can trust the words that come from his mouth?”
Skartovius scoffs. “If only it were so easy. Indokkus is a vampire. He will be incensed by his brother’s capture. He might not be thinking clearly, which will make him untrustworthy.”