Page 47 of The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)

It was a pub. White stone tables were dotted with years’ worth of blood droplets, now browning and crusted.

A handful of tables sat scattered around the room, occupied by Bloodborn men and women hunching over mugs and wineglasses and, in one corner, a single aging human blood vendor, who stared blankly at us as a Bloodborn woman suckled at her neck.

There were other humans here, too—I could smell them immediately—but they must have been upstairs, perhaps entertaining their patrons in other ways alongside their sustenance.

Everyone stopped to stare at us.

The man behind the counter, a thin, pale creature with dark circles beneath his eyes, straightened.

“Atrius. Mother’s tits.” He cackled. “When the boy told me you’d been here, I almost took off his head for telling tales.”

Atrius shot the man a pointed look that clearly said that the errand boy’s head was not the one at risk.

“I’m meeting someone,” he said. “The room we requested?”

The barkeeper shut his mouth and raised an arthritic hand to the back of the pub. “Of course. Second door down.”

Atrius strode through to the back of the pub, and we followed. The stares did, too.

“Why does everyone seem so surprised to see you?” Mische asked.

“I’ve been away.”

“Away where?”

Atrius gave her an exasperated look. “Isn’t it considered rude in the House of Shadow to ask so many questions?”

“Oh no, it definitely—” She clasped her hands in front of her. “It definitely is.”

We were taken down a narrow hallway, fleeing the gaze of a fascinated scullery maid.

Atrius opened the door to reveal a small room with a single card table, four chairs around it.

A woman already sat in one of them. Her scent instantly told me she was human.

She had long dark hair that was braided over one shoulder.

She wore plain traveling clothes that matched Atrius’s—and, most interestingly, a deep red cloth tied over her eyes.

Mische stopped short.

“You’re an Arachessen,” she blurted out.

The woman chuckled. “Such a polite greeting.” Her Obitraen was good, but she spoke with a thick accent. Though she wore a blindfold, her face tilted to us as we spoke, as if making direct eye contact. “I prefer to be called Sylina, thank you.”

Mische gave her an apologetic smile. “I just—wasn’t expecting it.”

I hid my surprise better than she did, but I was equally taken aback.

The Arachessen were acolytes of the goddess Acaeja, a small but well-known cult with sects across the human lands.

They took their recruits young and destroyed their eyesight in offering to their goddess—supposedly, a method of showing commitment, as well as a way of helping the recruits learn how to see via the threads of fate instead.

Depending on who you asked, the Arachessen were viewed as deranged lunatics, dangerous cultists, or wise sorcerers.

They were known to be skilled assassins, but far more dangerous was the organization’s habit of manipulating world events to align to what was Right by the threads of fate—or at least, what they claimed to be.

I stared down the newcomer, careful to keep my thoughts still. The Bloodborn were unable to look into minds, but the Arachessen could.

“Please, sit,” she said, as Atrius took a chair beside her. She shot him a smirk. “It sounds like a joke, doesn’t it? Two vampires, a seer, and a ghost walk into a pub?.?.?.”

And a ghost.

Mische’s face stilled. I froze mid-step.

“If we’re going to survive this together, you’d better stop underestimating us,” Sylina said. “I see through the threads of fate. Whatever you’ve done to disguise her true nature from prying eyes, it wouldn’t work on mine. Now please. Sit.”

But I didn’t move. I glanced between Atrius and Sylina, piecing together my theories.

“Now I see,” I said. “Typical Bloodborn. You’ve kidnapped a seer to guide us. Or to spy on us?”

The Bloodborn were known for leveraging human magic wielders, especially seers. Most of them were not taken to the House of Blood willingly.

But Atrius and Sylina shared a brief, amused glance. It was uncanny, the way her face moved as if she saw straight through that blindfold.

“Kidnapped?” Sylina chuckled. “Trust me, I’m no prisoner.”

“But you are a spy.”

“Would you blame me, if I was?”

“You’ll appreciate having the help of the seer when we’re navigating the deadlands,” Atrius said gruffly, already visibly irritated with this discussion.

Beside me, Mische frowned thoughtfully.

“Your accent,” she said. “You’re from the human nations. Where?”

Sylina cocked her head. A glint of pleased surprise. “Rare that any vampire even asks. I am from Glaea.”

Glaea. Where had I heard that name before?

The realization hit Mische first.

She said into my mind, That’s the country Elias said was conquered by the House of Blood.

Of course. He’d said it on our journey through the Descent. That the House of Blood was moving against the human nations in Nyaxia’s name, even before Mische had ushered in the eternal night.

The images I’d seen of Atrius’s past—battlefields and swords and fallen cities—now took on a new light. I turned my attention to Sylina, pushing toward her mind. I saw mountains and cliffs, a stone temple in the mountains, a palace with spires like knives—a throne?—

My brow furrowed in confusion.

A throne with her on it.

A wall slammed down, snapping away the prying fingers of my magic. Sylina was now on her feet, her pleasant mask gone.

Atrius sighed and rubbed his temple.

“Stay out of my mind, vampire,” Sylina hissed. “And keep your insulting surprise to yourself. I told you I was no prisoner. I rule Glaea as Atrius’s equal.”

As Atrius’s equal.

Oooh, Mische said silently to me. They’re together together.

But this revelation was not any more comforting to me.

“You’re telling us that you rule your country,” I said. “But even though it is still recovering from a war, you’re here, an ocean away, leading us into the deadlands. Why?”

It didn’t add up. It was one thing for Septimus to send us off with some expendable general. But why would an important couple come all this way, put themselves in this kind of danger, when they had so many reasons to stay where they were?

“We aren’t doing this out of goodwill,” Atrius said. “Septimus told you as much. This shouldn’t be a surprise.”

Sylina gave me a piercing stare from behind her blindfold. The directness of her stare was unsettling.

“No need to give me that suspicious look, Prince Asar,” she said. “Our reasons are none of your concern. Just as the reason why you’re looking for the eye of Alarus is none of ours.”

The eye of Alarus.

That was information that we had not provided to either Septimus or Atrius. Information that no one but Mische and the gods should know. She was taunting me with it.

Atrius shot Sylina an annoyed look, growing wearier of this conversation by the second.

Mische said silently to me, She’s testing us.

I knew it. It was a familiar game. Push, elicit emotions, and use the distractions to learn your opponent’s mind.

It could be typical distrust between Houses. Or it could be something more. I thought uneasily of the gods at our heels. The Arachessen were acolytes of Acaeja. But Glaea had been conquered in the name of Nyaxia. I couldn’t say who these two answered to now.

“It is my concern when our enemies know more about us than we do about them,” I said.

“Respectfully, it sounds to me like you aren’t in a position to be making demands,” Sylina said.

“You must be desperate, too, since you’re here instead of lording over this country you supposedly care so deeply about.”

Her face darkened. “I am here because I read the threads of fate and I can feel it when they’re all converging. And more importantly, I am here because I was not about to allow my partner to wander into the deadlands alone with someone who is inevitably going to stab him in the back.”

Under the distraction of our argument, I felt Sylina pushing into my mind, and prepared to push back harder.

But Mische slammed her hands down on the table.

A burst of darkness rolled through the room, making the lanterns shiver, pushing Sylina’s magic away.

It was, I noted with a twinge of pride, very skillfully done.

“This is ridiculous,” she said. “We’re about to journey into the gods-damned deadlands together. We aren’t going to survive it unless we trust each other.” She shot me an annoyed look. “Like it or not.”

Atrius let out a wordless grunt and waved her away.

“Let’s not waste each other’s time with games. We both need to make the journey. If you stay out of our business, we’ll stay out of yours.”

Mische gave them a bright, sweet smile. “We’re grateful to have the help.”

And she was still holding that lovely smile when she said into my mind, They are probably going to betray us, huh?

Probably, I agreed.

Aloud, I said, “Yes. We’re so grateful.”