The words are out of me before I can stop them. They sit in the air, and I watch as Lukain’s brow furrows.
“Betray each other?” the dhampir asks, still massaging his chin. “What do you mean, little grimmer? How have we—”
“Never mind,” I snarl, turning away. I’ve said too much. I promised myself it wasn’t my right to voice Skar’s truths. He needs to find his balls and do it himself.
“Wedidfind a way to get Liolen to help us,” Skartovius snaps. The bastard is hardly even showing a bruise after how hard I punched him. I recognize how nice it must be to be a vampire for the unblemished skincare alone. “If you give them a taste of your Loreblood, they will give us access to the North Mines, to steal as much silver as we need.”
This gets Vallan and Garroway up in arms, who raise their voices at the prospect.
“Youagreedto that, Master?” Garro wails.
“Sounds like a shit deal,” Vallan grunts.
I put my hands up and quiet them. It’s good to know I at least have two mates under my control. “You’re saying we get Palacia and endless silver for some drops of my blood?”
Skar’s face tilts left to right. “Dropsmight be selling it short. Liolen will want to drink enough to awaken whatever bloodline powers they have. But . . . yes. That’s the gist of it.”
“Why didn’t you fucking lead with that?” I guffaw. “Done.” It doesn’t even take a second thought. Again, reckless.
Vallan is the first to note it. “Hold on, silverblood—”
“No. We’ve been holding on long enough, Vall. Our fight with Aramastun needs to start. You saw what he sent after us today!”
His gloved hand lowers. There’s still an ocean of blood covering his body from the assassin he cut in half. So, yes, he understands. “True.” He takes a step back. “I retract my resistance.”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” I turn to leave the room, to get ready for the trek back to Olhav. At least Skar should be able to portal us to the Commerce Ward, now that he’s been there, and it seems like I’ve successfully diverted his and Lukain’s attention from the “betrayal” comment—
I almost run chest-first into Antones as he enters the meeting room.
He inhales sharply, looking over my shoulder, and goes pale. “By all that’s True,” he breathes. “I heard, but I had to come see for myself.”
My heart squeezes. Chewing my lip, I look from the old man’s crinkled face to the man I know he’s looking at. I see the wave of emotions passing between both of them.
“Master Lukain,” Ant rasps. “You’ve returned.”
Lukain gives his previous second-in-command a swift head nod. “Well met, old friend.” He quirks a wry smile. “I daresay you look much older and refined than when I last saw you, Ant.”
“Save for a few new scars, I daresay you look exactly the same, Master.”
Chapter 23
Lukain
I let Antones lead me around the Firehold and can see he’s trying to hide the pride he feels for the place. His home of so many years, decades even. Even when I left, he remained.
Thisis his world. His small, little world, underneath the earth and the bustling city suffering on top of it. Weighed down by the world, quite literally. Yet it’shisworld, and I never realized before how dearly he holds it. Not until he’s showing me the new amenities, rooms, and accoutrements he’s updated the place with.
Part of me still feels like the aging man is my personal dog, and I’m leading him around on a leash, nodding and smiling as he barks at anything and everything. At one point, he was very much my minion—my confidant and right-hand man, yes, but more my lackey.
Antones never disobeyed an order or made his opinions known unprovoked. He advised me, surely, when asked. Yet the man knew, even in his younger, sprier years, when to push, when to pull, and when to stay his tongue.
Now, there seems to be no end to the tongue-flapping, and I have to say it’s a breath of fresh air.
“Over here, you’ll see, we have extended the mess hall into a proper eating room. Yes, those are girls and boys eating together, not killing or fucking each other. At least not in this room.” He chuckles to himself and we continue on. “This tunnel is new,” he rambles, gesturing toward a smoothly cut corridorthat houses a few offshoot rooms. “Two more dwellings, though unused currently because our numbers have suffered. Also the staging ground for our tailor shop. The girls—and boys, if they wish—go to the bazaar to sell our made goods twice a month, on the big trade weekends.”
“Excellent.”
“Mm, yes.” He nods, limping along, clacking his cane in front of him, pointing out anything he can think of that’s different than when I left this shithole.