Page 56

Getting over the protective walls at the base of the mountain was best done during the day. It made sense: How could vampires guard the ramparts during the day when they were asleep? And human slaves made for much worse guard dogs than dhampir or fullbloods.

We stashed our carriage in the woods a few miles from the towering wall encircling Nuhav, trekking the rest of the way on foot.

Since we didn’t have a vampire like Garroway to launch me up to the lip fifteen feet up, we had to get inventive. We snapped a few thick branches from trees and rested them diagonally against the wall so we could use them as leverage.

I was tall, so I went first, managing to get over the rampart and onto the battlement with relative ease and only a few scrapes against my skin. Then I turned on my belly and reached down to help Jinneth get up and over.

We stayed still and silent for many long minutes as we examined the surroundings. Once we were fairly certain no one had seen us, we scurried down a staircase on the other side of the wall and vanished into the morning bustle of Nuhav.

It was exhilarating being in my old stomping grounds. I didn’t realized how much I missed it until I was deep among the throng of faceless peasants who called Nuhav their home and prison.

Jinneth and I cut through the streets like we owned them. After being with vampires for any length of time, not even the Bronzes scared me anymore.

Our stomachs rumbled, but Nuhav provided. We found a humming bazaar near the northeast district and came away with two pilfered apples and half a loaf of bread. Dust billowed thick from the mass of humanity, making the thieving easygoing.

To make our way south and avoid run-ins with the bronze-armored lawmen, we utilized the many snaking alleyways.

In one such alley, we came across a group of rough-and-tumble gutterboys waiting for prey such as us. Some things never change, I thought with a sigh as the four boys emerged from the shadows to surround us.

The difference between my scared youth and now, however, was vast.

Jinneth’s eyes narrowed. My fists bunched at my sides. I was stupidly weaponless, yet quickly surmised I wouldn’t need a sword to talk these lads down.

The tallest and oldest—who only came up to my chest and reminded me of Jinneth’s brother Jeffrith in his younger years—stepped forward with a sneering smile. “Morning, ladies.”

“Don’t you know who this is?” Jinneth asked, presenting me like a trophy. “This is the prizefighter of the Grimsons, yeah? You absolute bog-shit.”

His wicked smile only widened and he looked me up and down. “I’ll take my chances to climb a tree like that.”

The lad ran at me with a dagger. I was not only taller than him but, to his surprise, faster as well. With a quick side-step, I launched my elbow into his face and broke all the little bones of his nose.

He went down in a heap of spraying blood and a muffled yelp. The other three turned tail and scattered, one of them screaming, “She killed Tarvy! The Grimson bitch killed Tarvy!”

The boy writhed on the ground, clutching his nose and whimpering. I gave him a good kick in the ass. “Word of advice, Tarvy? Find something better to do with your time. You don’t have the street life in you.”

It felt good to hurt boys again. Especially bullies and would-be assaulters.

Jinneth was all smiles and laughs as we made it out of the alley. We came to one of the grated entrances of the Firehold an hour later, deep in the southern district.

As we descended the ladder, Jinneth announced our arrival. “Hoy! Any of you scumbags still livin’ down here, yeah?!”

The stale scent of old run-off and underground sewage met our noses. I grimaced. “That’s something I don’t miss.”

Footsteps filled the hall. We put ourselves into fighting stances as a gang of younglings broke into the entry room with clubs and daggers drawn.

They all came up short when a recognizable face pushed their way in through the back. “As I live and breathe. Grimmers, it’s your big sister Sephania!”

It was our resident historian and letter-writer, Imis. She gawked at me with a wide grin and rushed me in a hug. Other girls came and shrieked their approval before waylaying me and Jinneth with embraces and chatter.

The whelps playing as sentinels looked confused as they lowered their makeshift weapons. They were clearly from a newer bunch, though I recognized two of them from Antones’ bold buying attempt at the flesh market: Genth and his younger friend Faidy.

“Celebiddy!” Faidy exclaimed, joining the girls to crowd us.

We walked through the narrow corridors of the Firehold toward the huge room that separated the genders.

Imis spoke in a rapid-fire tone, talking all about what we’d missed while her hand gripped mine like a vise.

I couldn’t forget, at one point in time, Imis was obsessed with me.

She had kissed me just to get it out of her system, in fact.

Tajeri, from the shadowgalas, and Palacia, the pretty, blonde, skinny interfolk girl Imis had coupled with and never failed to mention how well-endowed she was—as if to make everyone else jealous—joined us as we moseyed through the rooms and rough-hewn halls.

Our crowd grew and grew as we walked, everyone wanting to know where we’d been and what we’d been doing in Olhav, all at once. We really were like celebrities. It was baffling. Even stooped, surly Old Endolf poked his head out from his alchemy cave to glance at us disapprovingly.

When we reached the mess hall, most of the boys were busy eating their morning meal. I broke out into a grin as Rirth and Culiar ambled over, shocked bents to their brows.

I embraced them like brothers. “Thank the True you’re alive. I wasn’t sure after the madness at Manor Marquin.”

“Looked like a whole heap of shit was happening. We weren’t important enough to follow once we escaped the manor courtyard,” Rirth explained.

He’s right. Skar’s vampires killing Mistress Mortis’ vampires and vice versa. Diplomats caught in the middle.

Culiar sneered. “No thanks to you, girl.” The lanky fighter looked me up and down as we separated. “Have your tits gotten bigger?”

Rirth scoffed. “As if you care. Don’t be an asshole.” The short, expert fighter slapped Culiar’s ass, eliciting a chuckle from the taller lad.

My eyes widened for a flash, seeing Rirth clap his friend’s backside. Well that’s new.

Rirth saw the surprise on my face. “Ever since Lukain, well . . .”

“Died?”

“Yeah.” He frowned and shrugged, looking away in embarrassment before glancing over at Culiar. “We’ve been able to be, uh, freer with Ant in charge.”

“I’m happy for you two,” I said. “Honest.”

“Less fighting is always good, I guess,” Rirth added.

Jinneth said, “Antones took over after Lukain?”

“Who else?” The voice came from behind me, walking through a different entrance.

I smiled at bearded Antones as he entered the mess hall from the shadows, a torch in his hand. The squat soldier’s hair was starting to gray even worse at the temples.

After embracing the former second-in-command, I said, “I suppose congratulations are in order for the promotion.”

Antones scoffed. “Would prefer it never happened.” When he realized everyone was watching us and not at their tables, he scowled at the gathered group. “Back to eating, louts! Sparring sessions and dress-making start in twenty minutes!”

A bustle of activity followed as people sat at their benches, conversations resumed, and everyone got back to their business.

Ant led me and Jinneth through the halls, out of the hall. We strolled along like it was the most casual thing in the world, memories of the various sparring rooms and hovels playing in my mind as we passed them.

“Still keeping a tight leash on the lads and ladies?” I asked, bumping his shoulder with mine.

“Got to keep ‘em ready, Seph.”

“For what?”

“Always someone to fight, even with Lukain dead. The Grimsons are destitute and we still have a job to do.”

“So you keep them as your property, just like Lukain did.” I spoke with more force than I’d meant.

He pumped his beefy hands. “Easy, girl. I’m not the enemy.”

“Never have been,” Jin pointed out from behind us.

“What’s this job you’re talking about?” I pried.

“Same as it ever was, Seph. Got to keep mouths fed and lads and ladies alive.” He scoffed, waving the torch behind him the way we came. “These whelps have only ever known suffering and fighting, eh? They got no skills outside of the Firehold. Free or not, they got nowhere else to go.”

We stopped and I frowned at my old friend who I used to take surface-outing walks with. “You can change that, Antones. I know how much you like the dresses from that one tailor in the bazaar. Put some girls up there, selling. Get the boys into trades—carpentry, butchery, leathermaking.”

Antones shook his head. “It’s not so easy. Jobs are scarce. Might not seem like it on the Floorboards right now, but people are scared. More and more bloodies been encroaching our grounds.”

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling awkward as I ran my hand through my hair.

Ant studied my face. “How is it in Olhav with the Buvers, huh? I see they ain’t turned you yet.”

“Fuck no they haven’t. And I won’t let them.” I grew quieter then, more reticent. “I’ve made . . . friends.”

“Same kind of friends Lukain made?”

His point was well taken, and I shut up. We continued on. I wasn’t sure where he was taking us or if he was just giving us a guided tour of our old home.

I finally broke the silence, feeling anger rising inside me. “No one told me Lukain was going to try to kill Ska—Lord Ashfen.”

Antones’ brow lifted to his creased forehead. “No one told me anything about that, neither. Is that what they have you believing up in the mountains?”

“I don’t know what to believe, Ant.”

He chuckled as we stopped at a door—one of the only lockable doors in the Firehold, the boss’ chambers.

“What’re we doing here?” I asked.

“Well, I’m assuming you ain’t staying?”

I shook my head. “I have things to do in Olhav. Turns out I can make more of a difference up there than I can down here.”

“True tell it true. No one can make a shit of difference down here on the Floorboards.”

It was at that moment I realized I wasn’t going to stay—I hadn’t even considered it until Antones asked. Keffa’s words from last night rushed through me.

“You need to find your own purpose, as I’ve found mine here. Recover the Relic, put yourself on even footing with our adversaries. You might even find your place in this mad, mad world.”

I dropped my chin knowingly as Antones opened the door. “So?”

“I’ve got something for ye.”

I eyed Jinneth behind me, who shrugged, and we walked inside the dark room. Antones kept it alight with his torch. He scrounged around looking for something, rustling papers at a table.

Making a sound of approval, he rose up holding a crumpled piece of folded parchment in his hand. “Figured you’d want to see it.”

“What is it?” I unfolded the paper and slowly read the scratched words—just a matter of a few lines roughly scrawled in mismatched handwriting.

“I’ve got my own eyes with the Buvers up there,” he explained, nudging his chin vaguely. “Got inside men in the vampire courts, leftover from Lukain’s work.”

I gasped as I finished the letter. My eyes widened and I read it again.

“Worth coming all this way here to get that, I take it?” Ant asked.

I lowered the paper. “It’s true?”

“Can’t know for sure, Seph. That’s up to you to find out.”

I read the lines a third time.

“What is it?” Jinneth asked.

I was at a loss for words.

Even though the crumpled, stained letter was merely a few lines . . . they were lines that changed everything.