It hurts the dockgirl to learn she can’t return to her homeland, when she has such pertinent, timely knowledge to share with her friends.
All of this makes it even more surprising when rich-looking Buvers arrive that evening in their ramshackle camps, cloaked and different looking than any vampires she’s seen before. More elegant, more regal.
The tall lanky one at the head, who might be a man or might be a woman, iscertainlydifferent than any Buver she’s seen. She thinks she knows who it is without needing to know their title, based on appearance and rumor alone.
The vampire calls out among the crowd: “Who here can read?”
The dockgirl jumps at the opportunity. She launches herself toward the savior vampires, no longer caring if they’re friend or foe.
Whatever it takes to get into Nuhav. If this is her ticket, she’ll buy the ride.
“Do you need me to read, sir? Er, ma’am?”
The tall, maybe-man, maybe-woman smiles coyly at her. “Not at all, dear. I simply need smart people on my side. Readers are usually a good indication of that.”
Well, the dockgirl has never considered herself smart, but she’ll gladly lie if this is how she gets in.
“I’m your girl then. Sir. Ma’am.”
Chapter 26
Sephania
I rush out with my mates, grabbing a few things before heading for the exit ladder: cloak and hood to hide my face, a warmer coat because it’s chilly on the surface, and a few vials of Silverblood Jinneth gave me, just in case.
When we leave the Firehold and I see the wreckage we’ve left behind, I feel guilty. We came in like a hurricane—or at least Skar and Lukain did—and now we’re leaving the Grimsons to pick up the pieces. Literally.
The nobleblood and dhampir join me, Vall, and Garro, but they stay on opposite sides of each other and don’t talk. They glare, sneer, and narrow eyes, which makes me roll my eyes because they’re acting like children, even during a supposed emergency.
I can imagine all they’ve done is postpone their duel, and have clearly not forgotten about it. Which makes me visibly and audibly frustrated. I feel like I need to teach them a lesson. I had beenaboutto teach them something when I raised my voice in the eating room, before the runner Filgy came in with the news.
“What can it mean?” I ask the foursome once we’re on the streets. “Overlord Aramastun lowering the gates. Why would he do such a thing unless he’s planning on invading Nuhav and slaughtering humans like Barnabac Craxon brazenly did?”
My mates won’t quickly forget the mile-long row of heads on pikes that Barnabac erected along the border of the Military Ward after our failed infiltration of his district.
True be true, I’m glad that fucker is dead.
“It could be obfuscation, to hide other nefarious plans,” Skar answers. No longer sporting his cloak, he looks surprisingly modest without it. Definitely less of a haughty noble. Almost . . . normal, with tight black leather garb and a wild mane of dark red hair. “A distraction from something. What that is, I don’t know.”
“Zefyra might know,” Garroway suggests.
“If we can find her,” Vallan adds. “She’s deep within the ranks of Aramastun’s army by now.”
“We won’t know more until we seek out answers in the belly of the beast,” Skar says, alluding to something I know none of us wants to do.
With a heavy sigh, I nod. “You’re right. We need to go into Olhav and find out what the fuck’s going on.”
To my left, Lukain marches alongside me, slightly parted from the rest of the group. I imagine he feels like an outcast right now, a renegade in a group he no longer trusts, and it hurts my heart to know he feels betrayed.
I can’t blame him. I don’t know how Skar finally told him the truth, but there was never any chance of it going over well. Now, the goal must be working toward reconciliation. For both their sake. Formysake.
I don’t know what I’d do if I lost those two to hatred and vengeance.
At the same time, I need them to realize something: I’m not going anywhere, and their boiling hate for each other needs to end. Otherwise we won’t get anything done and our revolution will be futile, undermined by our own inner conflicts.
The streets of Nuhav are relatively quiet this evening because it’s so late now. Most humans are asleep, which means the only denizens walking the roads are the homeless, the destitute, thedrug-addled, the drunk, and the grayskins who hide in the nooks and crannies of the human city.
Filgy’s announcement seems to be true. I notice the general trajectory of the citizens going a single direction: north, toward the mountains.