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Radu sat back in his chair, his eyes on Lar Bassa. “Pride,” he said. “Rellan will expect us to want to save face.”

Lar Bassa nodded. “So maybe we shouldn’t give him what he expects.”

It was a fair point. Vampires of the warrior class didn’t like to lose. When my father led King Nicolae’s army, he’d executed knight captains who lost too many men in battle.

“North and South have skirmished for centuries,” Lar Bassa said. “The humans resent us—”

“Jealousy,” Radu said.

“No,” Given said suddenly. As all eyes swung to her, she offered Radu a gentle smile. “Jealousy is part of it, Captain, but Lord Lar Bassa is right.” She swallowed. “I spent the first twenty years of my life trying to conceal every vampiric trait I possess. It didn’t work. And it didn’t matter that I was Baylen’s daughter or Rolund’s sister. No one in the South ever let me forget where my mother came from. They whispered their insults and stuck their knives in whenever they could.” She looked at the table, her gaze on Beldurn. “The insults always got worse when it was time to send thralls over the Rift. Soldiers would visit the poorest villages, pressuring families to volunteer their sons and daughters. The lowpeople hated it, but they did it for the money it would bring.” She hesitated, her brow furrowing.

Laurent touched her hand. “Please keep going, sweetheart. You’re telling us things we need to hear.”

She chewed her lip as she looked at him. Then she drew an even breath. “The thralls aren’t mistreated here, my lord, but they’re…”

He frowned. “What?”

“Food,” she said bluntly. “You treat them like food. And they’re not food. They’re people with minds and hearts and loved ones back home across the Rift. Mira and Henrik helped me so much—”

“Who?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she said. A flush spread down her neck as she grew more impassioned. “You don’t even know their names.”

Laurent’s expression turned perplexed. “Well I don’t need to—”

“Mira and Henrik are thralls I met in Lar Budina, and they’re both lovely.” She turned blazing blue eyes to me. “It was Mira’s idea to use the bandages for the knights. A human woman helped you retake this city, General.”

Abruptly, I found myself standing in a cold sweat. A dozen possible responses sprang into my mind. I quickly ran through them in my head, each one sounding more stupid than the last. Better to keep my mouth shut.

Given stared at me, obviously waiting for some kind of acknowledgment.

I grunted.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Your Grace…” Lar Bassa ventured. As Given looked at him, I exhaled with relief. Idiot. But a useful one. He hadn’t been in her crosshairs before, but if he wanted to sacrifice himself, so be it.

Lar Bassa continued. “I share your concerns about the thralls, Your Grace. I believe the practice has allowed anti-vampire sentiment to flourish among the Brotherhood for centuries.”

Radu scowled. “If we don’t have thralls, Lar Bassa, how are we supposed to survive?”

“We don’t have to figure that out tonight, Captain,” Lar Bassa said kindly. “But I think it’s important to understand our enemy. If Lord Rellan wants to be king, he needs to motivate his men to fight. Toppling tyranny is a powerful reason to go to war. Whether we set out to treat the thralls like food or not, that is how the South perceives us. You heard it directly from Queen Given. If I had to guess, Lord Rellan thinks we think we’re superior to humans. And if we’re honest with ourselves, we should probably admit that’s the case.” Lar Bassa lifted his shoulders. “That’s what makes me think he’ll anticipate retaliation tonight. And that’s why I believe we should think very carefully before we give it to him.”

With a nod, he fell silent.

Radu and Drago stared at him, their faces reluctantly impressed. Given watched him with a soft smile playing around her full mouth.

When I looked at Laurent, I found him looking at me. Awareness sizzled through me.

“This is not the only war on our horizon,” he said softly.

“No, my king.”

Laurent stood and came to my side. He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed—a casual display of affection he wouldn’t have risked before.

But things were different now, I thought, my heart pumping harder. We were wed. Husbands. The word stuck in my throat like one of his bly’ad. I wasn’t sure I could say it just yet. It was so new. Delicate, somehow. Maybe I worried I would break it.

And maybe I worried what others might think. A glance at Radu and Drago revealed nothing but a pair of seasoned knights waiting for their king to speak. Given’s eyes were shining. Lar Bassa watched us with an odd expression. Not judgment. I knew what that looked like. Before I could figure it out, Laurent released me and gestured to the miniature cast iron trees that represented the Thicket.