“I—I found it on my step. Some creature must have killed it and brought it to me as a gift. I do tend to be perceived as a friendly thing.”
Vann’s eyes flick to the severed leg, then back to me. He all but rolls his eyes.
“Cave rats don’t make friends,” he says flatly. “Unless you’ve managed to gain the loyalty of a particularly bad hunter, I think there’s a simpler explanation.”
A jolt of panic laces through me, sharp as a dagger.
What does he know?
“And what would that be?” I ask.
He steps closer.
“You seemed half mad last night.”
I choke. “Are you saying I did this?”
He purses his lips. “No. Maybe this attacked you? Or was someone else here?”
His voice is quieter now, more measured. Not an accusation—he’s probing.
I let out a long breath. I don’t want to think about this. “Say your piece and let me get to work.”
For a long moment, he is silent.
Then, “I saw you yesterday,” he repeats. “You were screaming. Thrashing when I tried to pick you up.”
… What? Yesterday was the ascension.
My chest tightens, and my tongue acts quicker than my thoughts. “Perhaps it wounds your pride, but it shouldn’t be such a surprise that if you treat someone poorly long enough, they won’t want you anywhere near them.”
Vann tilts his head slightly, studying me with that unreadableexpression of his. A slight frown pulls at the corners of his mouth, but sweat pools in my palms.
I can’t remember seeing him. I don’t recall him waking me up.
In fact, he is speaking as if a whole day has passed since my coronation. But that was last night?
“I have not always treated you poorly,” he says.
I blink, my worry shifting to the side as he draws near. Memories unspool, vivid as fresh ink on parchment as they pull them from the moment.
I remember his hands on my waist as he lifted me to place the bow atop the winter festival tree. Then the way we danced later.
Then there had been the night Joso humiliated me at the feast—how Vann’s fist had collided with his jaw before I could even react.
A year ago, a group of vaimpír had found a way into one of the tunnels. An enduar had fallen. Vann had nearly died, too.
I remember helping him afterward. After Ulla and Estela had patched him up, they left me to care for him. He was fevered when I pressed a damp cloth to his brow, his skin hot beneath my touch.
Then his fingers wrapped around my wrist. He brought my hand to his mouth.
I remember the press of his lips against my pulse. Then he graced me with a slow, lingering swipe of his tongue before his fangs sank deep.
My breath pushes out of my lungs, sharp and uneven. My heart gallops, thundering in my ears. Warmth rushes to my cheeks, the first I’ve felt all day.
What the fuck is this?
I exhale, too fast, too shallow.