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ALARIC

R iding away from camp has never been harder. It feels as if a piece of me is being ripped away, like I'm leaving a vital piece of myself behind. My heart. That's what I'm leaving back at camp as I ride to battle, to possible death. My fucking heart.

But I know it must be done. I will return from this battle as I've always returned. I have something far too precious to return to now and I will not lose that when we haven't even started yet. I haven't even told her how I feel, I haven't even told her that she's mine.

Elias rides beside me, giving me the rundown on our men, where the advanced group has made camp, and the latest update from the scouts.

"So…" he says after we've taken care of business for the time being. I quirk a brow and he rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Come on, Alaric. Did you tell her?"

"Not yet," I admit, glancing around to be sure no one is listening. "We were rudely interrupted, if you do recall," I remind him when he looks about to berate me. He is of the mind that I should tell Dahlia that she's my mate immediately, and while I do want her to know, I want us to explore this thing between us more before I tell her. I don't want there to be any pressures or questions as to my feelings or hers. I want her to understand that I love her, regardless of the mating bond.

"Did you at least tell her you love her then?" I rub the back of my neck and he shakes his head. "I wish I had something to throw at you right now. Why not, you daft idiot!?"

"I don't know if you are aware, but I am your High General and a prince to boot…maybe you shouldn't insult me?" He waves that away, scoffing, and I laugh. Then I sigh. "I didn't want to tell her when I was riding off to battle, like I was only saying it because I might die."

"Gods, you're bad at this, you know that?"

"I am not!...Ok, maybe I’m not the best ," I admit, realizing that this is my first…relationship? Is that what I'd call this? It seems like such a simple word for something so profound and all-encompassing. But yes, this is the first relationship I've been in and perhaps I do not know the best way to navigate the roads of the heart. "Is that not the right way to look at this?"

"No, you moron. If you love someone, you tell them. As soon as you feel it and as often as possible. Time isn't guaranteed, Alaric, especially for us." I blink, taking his words in, rolling them around.

"Fuck," I grate.

"Fuck, indeed," he agrees. "Speaking of fucking…"

"No," I say firmly. "No, not yet." He exhales dramatically in exasperation and I whip Night’s Fury from my back quick as lightning and smack him in the back with the flat of the blade.

"Oy! Don't make me beat you senseless in front of all of your men, High General…"

We laugh and pass the rest of the journey swapping conjectures about Kilgren's motives and what he's planning, and talking about random things. We ride through the night and make it to camp before first light.

"Highspear!" Elias calls, sliding from Orion's back while I dismount Xanthus, patting the horse affectionately before handing him off to a squire. Elias passes Orion off to the lad as well and we stride off towards our tents.

The young vampire sprints over.

"Yes, sir," he says, bowing his head and putting his fist to his chest.

"At ease," I tell him and he relaxes slightly, but still seems tense. He won't meet my gaze directly and I know he's still feeling stung by my refusal of his promotion and to be appointed to Dahlia's guard. I recall snapping at him, which I rarely do, and feel a twinge of guilt. I was in a frantic state after Dahlia's attack and might have taken out frustrations on the boy.

"Latest report," Elias demands.

"Yes, sir. The Revenant contingent is still moving towards the Obsidian Plain, five hundred in the first group at our last count."

"Good work," I tell him and he glances towards me, surprise flitting across his boyish features, but he quickly averts his eyes again. "Rest up and relieve your partner in four hours."

"Yes, sir." He bows his head again and scurries off.

"Was it just me, or was he more squirrely than usual?" Elias asks.

I run a hand through my hair as we step inside my tent. It's a monstrous thing, far larger than I need, but it's customary for the commanding officer to have larger quarters. There's a pallet of furs atop several crates, giving the illusion of an actual bed, a wash basin, a desk and several trunks of weapons and clothing on one side of the space. My armor rests on a mannequin in the corner, a smaller version of the table from my war room just beside it, already set up and ready for me to strategize over, and a fire pit near the bed, the smoke escaping through a slit in the top of the tent. Almost all of it is unnecessary, but I stopped arguing with my squires over it long ago. It makes them happy to see to my needs, as they see them at any rate, and I appreciate the care they take.

I unbuckle my sword and place it in its stand beside the bed, stretching my muscles this way and that after the long ride.

"I might have yelled at him the last time I saw him," I admit. Elias looks at me questioningly as he takes a sip of blood from his flask. I can still taste Dahlia's blood on my tongue and I barely stop a shudder at the memory of taking it straight from her body, of feeling her soft flesh glove my fangs…I clear my throat and continue, "It was just after the attack on the road and I was…quite harsh."

"Out of your fucking mind with rage, you mean."

"Also that," I agree. "Highspear caught me at a bad time and I snapped at him. I think it rattled him."

"Ah, he'll be fine. You aren't as scary as you think you are, you know." He grins and I can't help but laugh.

"Alright, we have less than two days. Let's start planning."

Elias nods and we head to the war table, my mind already working, envisioning the map like a chess board and calculating the probability of the moves and the motives behind them, how I'll combat them, how we should attack or defend.

The battle rages all around me, brutal and frenzied and making my blood sing in my veins. Despite the chaos, I'm calm, that cold detachment covering me like a blanket as it always does. I'm covered in blood—most of it not my own—and I bring Night’s Fury down in a vengeful arc, cutting another Revenant down. I keep searching for Kilgren, wanting the chance to finally end the bastard. There's been no sign of him yet, and I fear that the rumors of his presence have been exaggerated. The rumors about the number of Revenants, unfortunately, were under-reported. There are at least seven hundred, maybe more, and a large number of them are holding their lines behind the brunt of the battle, far behind the invisible barrier of safety, as if waiting for something. What, I have no idea, but there's a skittering of unease up my spine. Something is wrong. Something is happening.

I've tried teleporting more than once, but to no avail. I guess at this point, it only works if my mate is in danger. It's no matter. I've been battling for over a century without that skill, I'll continue to do it now. I cut through our enemies, twisting and parrying, clashing and dodging, performing the deadly ballet that burns in my blood. I feared that worry for Dahlia, that the pain of being away from her would distract me from my mission here, but it seems to be doing the opposite: it's somehow aiding me, pushing me to move faster, to strike truer, to move like smoke through the battle. Is it my desire to get back to her, to return to her safely? Or simply my feelings for her, and hers for me, I daresay, giving me a new strength that I've never had before?

I see Elias up a small rise, battling three Revenants, and I take off towards him. I slide between him and a Revenant who thought to catch him from the side, Night's Fury clanging loudly against the Revenant's sword. He grunts, but doesn’t attack with the usual ferocity I’ve come to expect from these monsters, no rage burning in his crimson eyes, no snarling or taunting jibes. He’s acting almost…robotic, like a clockwork creature. It’s strange.

"Took you long enough," Elias says with a grin, spinning to avoid one Revenant's flail and slicing a deep gash in the other's thigh. I laugh and square off against my opponent. His black hair is shaved low on one side, warrior braids hanging down the other. He lunges forward with his thin blade, the kind made for slipping between a man's ribs, but I block and spin, cutting a deep gash to the bone of his upper arm. He howls in pain, but it ends abruptly when I take his head with one swift slash of Night's Fury. His body topples to the ground. I turn to face one of the two remaining beasts, but a small blade slams into my hand. It doesn't pierce through Dahlia's gauntlet, of course, but it knocks Night's Fury from my gasp.

"Fuck," I rasp, as the Revenant across from me grins wickedly.

"You are nothing without that blade," she hisses, looking victorious. She lunges forward and I dart back while Elias fights brutally with the other one, both of them hacking at each other like two bears. The Revenant has abandoned his flail and is now brandishing a giant war hammer. The other Revenant pushes her luck in my moment of distraction, thrusting her sword towards me again. Her blade slices across the front of my armor but doesn’t pierce the dragon scales, and I grab her forearm, holding her tight against me as I flick my wrist, releasing the hidden blades from my gauntlet and driving them into her throat. I tear her open from ear to ear with one vicious movement. She gurgles and clutches at her neck before falling to her knees.

"Not completely nothing," I correct her. I turn to Elias and find him standing between the two halves of the Revenant. We grin at each other.

"Nicely done, brother," I tell him.

A heartbeat later, an arrow sails through the air, passing just beside Elias' shoulder, and slams into my chest, just to the right of my heart. Pain laces through me and I stumble backwards from the force of the blow.

"Alaric!" Elias calls. "Fuck, more of the armor-piercing arrows??"

"I'm alri—" I scream in agony as fire seems to explode from the wound, sizzling through my veins and spreading outward through my entire body. I fall to my knees and Elias cries my name, slamming to his knees beside me. I blink past the pain, trying to focus, but I’m burning. I’m fucking burning and I can’t…I can’t…

"Alaric! Alaric, what's happening?"

"S…silver," I gasp as the pain doubles, the poison spreading through my veins like wildfire.

"A silver arrowhead!?" Elias braces me for the briefest of moments before yanking the arrow free and flinging it away.

"N…no." My body bows under the agony, and I feel blood well in my palms where my claws have sliced to the bone. "…powder…o-on the tip…"

Elias' face goes white as the words sink in. Silver is bad enough, but silver powder spreads through the blood, taking the poison to every inch of the vampire and burning him from the inside out, destroying him slowly and in utter agony.

"No. Ah gods. No, no, no. Help!" he roars, turning towards the melee below the rise. "Help me, NOW!"

I bite through my lip in an effort to keep from screaming out, blood pouring down my chin. The pain is excruciating, unlike anything I've ever experienced and I’m no stranger to pain. More of our men leap atop the rise, taking up defensive positions around me, while others pull me to my feet. Elias throws my arm around his shoulder and half drags me down the hill. I glance back over my shoulder, my gaze zeroing in on a spot far off in the distance, up on a stony overlook, somehow knowing exactly where to look.

There, gray lips pulled back into a snake's smile, is Kilgren.