Then again, Rirth leads the resurgent Silverknights, and I know he is a good man. He might hate me, and for good reason, but I’d prefer no one else leading this Nuhavian revolution than my old friend from the Firehold.
We cut west, avoiding the busiest streets, nearing the rooster tavern. I ponder the situation here, with the sharp scents of oiled leather, tanned hides, and shoddy tailoring making my nose scrunch.They’re already fighting one plague in Nuhav, trying to rid the city of gangs and flesh-merchants of their own kind. Can we really expect them to shift their anger toward another enemy—an enemy that bares their fangs from the city on the mountains—when the time comes? Or are we asking too much for the humans to help us destroy the Three Ministries?
I see no ways around it. Ifeithercity is going to prosper, we’ll need to continue helping each other. If Nuhavians want to stop living underfoot of the vampires, they’ll need to help us destroythe worst offenders.I only hope I can convince Rirth of the same thing, if he’s not too far gone down the path of redemption and ambition already.
After all, in antiquity, as I learned from Skar’s teachings, the Silverknights came about with theexpress purposeof killing vampires. It wouldn’t be right for Rirth to shirk their ancient duties now, when times are direst, the Ministries are exposed, and we have a small window of opportunity to act.
If Overlord Aramastun Wyvox takes hold of Olhav completely—oranyof the overlords do, for that matter—and is able to use it as his own playground, ruling with an iron fist, then we’re too late. We will have spoiled our chance to rid the world of the Five Ministries for good.
Kep’s tavern is busy, even from the outside. Standing across the street, planning our entry, Garro sniffs and stiffens. He smells the unique, heady aroma of redcloud coming from inside. The old addict in him flares to life.
I squeeze his hand softly, give him a small smile, and take his attention away by kissing him on the cheek. “You two wait here. Can’t be seen barging in with two Buvers if we want any hope of finding the Chained Sisters.”
Jolting, Garro loses his faraway gaze. “Kep hates me anyway.”
“That’s right. Told you not to come back after we saved Sister Cyprilis from a beating.”
Garroway snorts. “Savedher? You mean prevented a bloodbath on her behalf, lass.”
A grin lifts at the corner of my lip. “I doubt he’ll recognize me.”
Vallan says, “I don’t like it.”
“Your bloodsight will know if I’m in danger.”
Garro tilts his head left and right. “As we’ve seen, it’s not completely trustworthy. I’ve got a better idea.”
Before I can answer, he closes his eyes and puts his hands on my shoulders, drawing me close. At first, I think he’s embracing me, but then his body goes partly limp and I realize he’s holding onto me to stay upright while he disappears into his mind.
To a bystander, we look like two drunkards draped over each other, just leaving the busy tavern after a busy evening of too many cups. A man even chuckles at us, stumbling past, and begins to lurch toward us before Vallan appears from a shadow like a monolith and turns him as pale as Vall with a single glare.
The man shuffles off in a hurry.
Garroway opens his eyes, blinking back to reality. “Found us a rat friend in the basement. Found some folk under the floorboards, as it were, but not anyone I recognize.”
My brow furrows. “The fuck does that mean?”
Garro glances away from the rooster tavern, to another dwelling. “Had a conversation with another mousy friend. The Chained Sisters are in the basement ofthathouse, which I believe couples as Kep’s living quarters.”
I click my tongue. “Thank you, love. You’ve prevented us from having to even step foot in that nasty brothel, or have to put up with Kep’s questions if he recognizes me.”
Garroway bows low. I know it’s as much of a relief for him as it is me, since he doesn’t have to get any closer to the redcloud users in there and be tempted.
“Sorry in advance, Kep,” I mutter, marching across the street.
“For what?” Garro asks, following briskly behind.
Seeing that there are strangely no windows in the ramshackle hovel Kep calls a home, I lift my foot and kick in the front door.
Chapter 13
Lukain
There’s something off about Skartovius Ashfen. Even more than usual. My half-brother has always been a surly, arrogant bastard.
Well, I supposeI’mthe bastard, since he has our mother’s blood as well as the noblebood’s Kavorin Mortis flowing through his veins, whereas I am tainted with my patrilineage belonging to Heskul Angul. The Silverknight general, now dead for over two decades.
My bloodline is essentially anathema to the vampires of Olhav. And that’s before even considering I’m a half-blood.