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In the dreadful quiet that followed his death, I stared at my blade, slick with his blood, feeling nothing beyond a sense of relief that he was dead.

Then I handed it to Daroc.

“Burn his head. Impale his body,” I said and returned to the castle, to Isolde, where I lay beside her and slept.

Twelve

Isolde

I would have to shift today. The thought made me nervous. The only part I liked about the idea was that I could spend time with Sorin, but before I met him for training, I decided to head to the library, uncertain if I would have the chance to visit later today.

It was early; the sun had not even brightened the horizon, and yet the staff were already busy, carrying armfuls of blackthorn branches, thistle, and baskets of garlic down the hallway, though they paused as I passed to curtsy or bow.

The items they carried were all used to protect against vampires in Lara on the night of Winter’s Eve, which was said to be the night when all evil in the world gained control, but of that evil, vampires and vârcolaci, or werewolves, were said to be the most powerful.

“Are we preparing for Winter’s Eve?” I asked, halting a maid as she walked by.

“Yes, my queen,” she said with a smile. She seemed excited. “Do you recognize the holiday?”

“I do… Forgive me, but are we celebrating?” I asked.

I could not imagine. This night was the quietest in Lara. No one was allowed outside once nightfall came, and villagers kept their homes as bright as possible, fearing every creak or howl that disturbed the darkness outside.

We had truly believed in evil, and I never managed to sleep during Winter’s Eve, though that may have been because Nadia insisted on staying in my room to recite protection prayers.

“I suppose you could call it a celebration,” the maid said. “But I would call it more of a ritual.”

“Why a ritual?”

“Well, if you are older, you believe this night gives rise to darker things,” she said. “My grandmother says if we appease those things, our winter will not be so harsh.”

“And what do you think?” I asked because the maid was young.

“I think it is all a fable,” she said. “But we will use any excuse to have a bit of fun, especially during these times.”

I was not surprised by the difference in views or that Lara and Revekka celebrated Winter’s Eve so differently. Given that Adrian had ruled as king here for almost two hundred years, they had very little reason to fear the strength of vampires or vârcolaci.

I sent the maid on her way and continued to the library’s great room, where the evidence of much of my research remained in haphazard stacks.

Only a week ago I had been trying to piece together a history via the journals of Revekkian villagers who had described the raw and unfiltered horror of Dragos’s witch hunts. Now, I hunted for any mention of High Coven—my sisters, our magic, and spells.

“Do you have any books on illness?” I asked when Lothian and Zann entered the great room, each carrying a stack of books. They were so heavy, they had to bend back to hold them, and I feared they both might snap in two. They placed the books upon the table with a loud thud.

“Quite a few,” said Zann. “What are you looking for?”

“At court the other day, several villagers said their men and boys had come down with a type of illness…” I began.

“Yes, we heard,” Zann said. “A blood plague, we think.”

“You already know?” I asked, surprised.

“We suspect,” Lothian clarified. “We think the crimson mist is responsible, that it somehow morphed into a plague.”

It was as I feared.

“We would have to experiment to be certain,” Zann added.

“Experiment?”