So there it is. A grayskin worth fucking, a soldier worth standing shoulder to shoulder with, and a nobleblood I can’t fucking stand, who can’t fucking stand me.
Sephania certainly has her work cut out for her if she wants to share me and Skartovius in her wanton coven.
Or perhaps . . . it’s workwehave to do in order to shareher.Sephania owes us nothing. She could easily find two or three new vampires to take her hand, and more, because she’s that unique. Damned below, lascivious Palacia would likely jump at the opportunity.
My thoughts make me realize, with much regret and a wave of nausea passing through me, that I’m going to have to hash things out with Skartovius Ashfen. Even if we don’t want to be on each other’s side, we need to do it for Sephania Lock.
She wants unity and a familyunit.We are decidedly un-united right now. Which means I need to reach out to him if his arrogant, proud ass is unwilling to make the first move.
I’m just about to open my mouth to voice my concerns when Zefyra beats me to it and brings all my wayward thoughts crashing down.
“We’re here.”
I blink, taking in my surroundings for the first time in many, many steps. Zefyra has led our small troop to a cloud-reaching tower just as tall as the Tanmount behind us. It’s adorned with a ring of multi-colored magicked lights jutting from numerous balconies and patios over our heads. Walkways crisscross with other smaller structures nearby, creating a web of buildings with the tower as its center.
I’ve never stepped foot into Fort Flittus, though everyone has heard of it. It’s said to be named after a long-lost lover of Liolen’s from ages past. The many structures and towers connected to the tower via walkways and cables makes the area its own veritable city.
With the main tower jutting through the center of the ring of buildings, high into the sky, it’s probably no accident that Fort Flittus has a decidedly phallic tilt.
Zefyra says, “Wait here,” and vanishes down a side-road that leads to one of the smaller buildings. She leaves me, Skar, and Palacia standing there in the open, and I abruptly feel quite unsafe, like I’m being watched.
“This is where the ambush happens, no doubt,” Skartovius mutters with a sigh. He doesn’t sound half as bothered as I feel.
“It would have been just as easy to do it outside of the Tanmount, Lord Ashfen,” Palacia says. “Better to keep it out of prying eyes, in the back-alleys.”
“Unless Liolen Sesk wants to make an example out of us.”
Palacia’s small face twists with a frown. “Always so skeptical, sir.”
“My skepticism has kept me alive for over a century.”
“Alive?” I quip, resisting a smile. “You’re a vampire, not a flower.”
His face falls flat when it lands on me. “You know what I mean, ass.”
As I start to smile, Zefyra appears with two men behind her, and my smile fades. The men are tall, sturdy enough, but they don’t look like any soldiers I’ve ever seen. At least not uniformed ones, with their ragtag leathers and mismatching tunics.
“Mercenary escorts,” Zefyra explains, nodding curtly to our confused faces.
The ragtag vampires turn to lead us away, and I recognize by the sashaying gait of the one on the left, and the formidable rearand thighs, that this was once a woman. I let out a small sound, impressed.At least Liolen Sesk lives by what they preach. Interfolk mercenaries as guardsmen? That’s a novelty.
When you have superhuman strength due to being a vampire, it doesn’t matter much whether you were a man or a woman before you were turned. In that sense, I suppose the interfolkareequal to their male and female counterparts.
The soldiers bring us through a dizzying number of hallways, elegant rooms, levels, and winding staircases in the main tower, until I feel like the point is to confuse our sense of location.
It works.
Finally, we arrive in front of a door that looks not so different than the dozens of doors we’ve already seen: small, unadorned, wooden. Not the ostentatious engraved double-door with golden knockers I expected to find.
Inside, Overliege Liolen Sesk sits at a simple table, near a lit hearth. They are a pale, radiant beam of light in an otherwise dreary room. Perhaps that’s the goal: for the Gilded Liege to appear as a golden deity beside the murky rank and file of a monotone life.
The small fire behind them slightly highlights their thin frame and bony shoulders. Their robes are golden-hued, sweeping over the chair’s edge to the floor, with more robes hung up off to the side. I can only imagine the splendor of the overliege when they’re fully fastened in their uniform of opulence.
On the table, a plethora of glittering rings and bands sit, and Liolen slowly places them on their fingers one at a time. A pot of rouge rests in front of them, with a brush they use to dab their pale face pink with makeup.
It appears they’re getting ready for an evening outing. Perhaps a gala, or a dance, or something more sinister.
Liolen Sesk looks dainty, thin, and otherworldly. I know it’s an underestimation too many people have made. Despite feminine appearances, they are one of the most powerful vampires in the land, and surely the wealthiest.