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CHAPTER 1

With a gloved hand, I stirred the acorn porridge, feeling nauseated at the mere thought of eating it again. Steam rose as I stared at it in the cauldron. Stewed acorns smelled a great deal like a mixture of nuts and dirt. Maybe I could find some berries or honey to sweeten the stew this time.

Despite the tasteless food, deep in the Thornwood, Leo and I had carved out something like a normal life for ourselves, even if we were sharing the small space with two bards who never stopped talking. The important thing was that the Order had no idea where we were—out here in the middle of nowhere—and we were getting by just fine. I foraged for nuts and berries, the boys fished, and we lived happily in our cozy little home.

The only time we argued were when the letters arrived from the vampires.

In the tub by the fireplace, Godric scrubbed his shoulders. “What does the newest one say? It’s from Lydia, isn’t it?”

“I’m not interested, whatever it says,” I grumbled.

Apparently, my oldest friend, Lydia, had joined them. I really couldn’t picture her there, a genteel lady among the blood-drinkers, but she had a tendency to surprise me.

At the kitchen table, Hugo blew his pale hair out of his eyes, a pen in his hand. “Lydia says they are on a small island kingdom called Gwethel, just west of the large vampire kingdom of Sumaire. She says the witches like her have a gated village all to themselves. She says it’s safe there. And do you know who their king is?”

I stirred the porridge again, as if that would make it taste better. “No, and we’re not going.”

“Is it Sion?” Godric called out from the tub.

“That’s him,” said Hugo. “The old Magister Solaris.”

At the rough wooden table, Hugo’s forehead wrinkled. “The little messenger crow is waiting for us to send a reply letter. Listen, I don’t mind disappointing the vampires, but I don’t want to let that little crow down. He’s a good boy. He just wants to do his job. We will give him an answer.”

I sighed. “Tell the crow that we will not be joining Lydia in the vampire kingdom.”

“Do they have a castle?” At the kitchen table, Leo was shelling more acorns that he’d collected earlier. “Lydia says she’s in a place called Donn Hall. It sounds like a castle. I’ve been in a manor house, but never a real castle.”

I cleared my throat. “Hugo, please write down for the crow that we will not be joining Lydia on the vampire island because we are perfectly happy and safe where we are, without having to worry about being eaten by blood-drinkers. Tell the crow that Sion once murdered my own father, and we don’t need to live in a castle. We have everything we need already.”

“Do we, though?” Leo asked doubtfully.

I once again stirred the acorn porridge. “I’m making some food right now. And I’ll make it more flavorful this time. And you and Godric did such excellent work on that vegetable patch. And the snares you made with Hugo! We’ve all done excellent work, getting our life sortedhere.” I glanced back at Hugo ashe sat hunched over a wooden table. “Don’t write that bit about the porridge. Just say we have everything we need here, that we are fully stocked on food, and that we’re perfectly safe from the Order. Say that we’re leading a perfectly happy and normal life far, far away from vampire fangs.”

Hugo scribbled away, his tongue poking out as he wrote. “Right. Got it. No flavor in the porridge…”

Godric dropped Lydia’s letter, and he broke into song.

“She danced on the green, with nary a care,

A brisk girl was she, with an arse like a pear?—”

“Godric! Can you have a day off singing?” I snapped.

As he scrubbed his back, suds spilled out onto the rushes.

Leo dropped the unshelled acorns into a pot of water. “I’m just wondering if at the castle, we might have better food.”

“Do you think they’d have better food in a castle full of blood-drinkers?” I turned to him, holding the acorn-sludge spoon. “Who knows what they get up to in Gwethel? I’m not taking you to a vampire kingdom, my love. Vampires are monsters who eat people, understand? I have been told by an actual vampire that they don’t have souls and that we should stay away.”

Leo’s eyes brightened. “Lydia said they have feasts there every night, because there are so many human thralls?—”

“I told you not to read those letters,” I said with exasperation. “I don’t want you even knowing what a thrall is. It’s not a word a child should know.”

Leo shrugged. “They’re the human servants who give their blood willingly. I don’t see the problem. They want to become vampires someday, because vampires are stronger and better than humans?—”

“Theproblem,” I said sharply, “is that vampires are violent, and they can’t control themselves. And their king, Sion, is the worst of them all. We’re better off here, darling. I’ve made up mymind, and I’m not changing it. And after all the work we put into the snares and the vegetable garden, we’re not giving up.”

Leo hadn’t seen what I’d seen of the vampires: Maelor soaked in blood, Sion casually slicing off people’s heads with a dark smile.