Theron said to Jeshickah, “That’s why you keep him around.”
“That, too,” she answered with a soft smile.
“I will have to save a deeper drink for another time, though, since we still have work to discuss.”
Jeshickah nodded.
“First order,” she said. “I want you to deliver a message to Brina. If she leaves us for Silver’s empire, I do expect her to leave behind all property that is not explicitly hers, which does include the ‘staff’ she borrowed from here and the slaves she has been using as models. Also remind her that her greenhouse is on our land, and subject to destruction should she decide that she does not require our alliance any longer.”
The mercenary nodded. Though he seemed more physically relaxed than he had been, I did not doubt that his mind was following every command.
I also had no doubt that Brina would back down after hearing Jeshickah’s warnings. The greenhouse was an elaborate affair covering more than an acre, made of a combination of clear and stained glass laid out in dramatic panels, with occasional mesh windows to allow the passage of fresh air. It had been built by Midnight as part of their attempt to raise an Azteka bloodwitch—Vance—in such a beautiful cage that he never realized he was a slave. I suppressed a smile as I imagined seeing it demolished.
The conversation continued along those lines for the next few minutes, with Jeshickah leveling ultimatums against several other members of Kendra’s line. I didn’t know all the names mentioned, but the overall message was clear: someone was fighting for leadership of the vampires. Jeshickah took the threat only seriously enough to make sure her people knew what they would be losing if they tried to defect.
After Theron had been dismissed and Jeshickah had left, I stood. Carefully. I hadn’t lost much blood, but it still took a moment for my head to clear.
I had so much I wanted to talk to Nathaniel about, and absolutely no way to contact him until he deigned to come find me. In the meantime, it was nearly sunrise, I was hungry and exhausted, and unlike Vance my occasional visits here did not involve luxurious accommodations.
At least food was plentiful. I helped myself to stew and bread in the kitchen, unchallenged by any of the guards or the broken slaves, who moved around me with wary glances but would not speak unless spoken to first.
I wondered if I should offer to bring the meals down to the west wing, come sundown. The vampires’ personal slaves and current projects would eat—or not, as the trainers chose. Ashley and Hara would need food. Bringing it to them might give me a chance to see—
Leave that alone, I tried to tell myself. It’s not worth a beating, or worse, just to get a glimpse of them and make yourself feel like scum.
Even so, my feet brought me to the west wing, where the mercenary who had met with Jeshickah earlier was just reaching his room.
“Theron?” I said. My understanding was that Theron rarely dealt with slaves, and did not like to be addressed by a title.
He nodded. “Jeshickah tells me you’re behind Midnight’s recent acquisition of ruling powers from the avians, Shantel, and serpiente.”
“I wouldn’t put it quite that way.”
“Jeshickah does have her own, unique outlook on the world,” the mercenary remarked as he unlocked the door to his room. “Come in.”
I wasn’t sure if the words were meant to be an invitation or an order, but I obeyed, curious. Theron was supposedly a powerhouse of information, involved in everything. Did he know about the plot against Midnight already?
“Congratulations on your sister’s rise to power,” Theron remarked as he removed his boots and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, making himself comfortable. “I hear that Aaron is pushing to have the coronation ceremony as soon as possible.”
The words were spoken casually, but they had the potential to be a trap, so I was careful in my response.
“I am glad Misha was able to persuade him,” I answered vaguely, wondering if plans had moved ahead since Misha sent me away or if Theron was commenting on the negotiations Aaron had already been making to ensure her safe rise to the throne.
Moving on from that subject, Theron asked, “Can I get you anything to drink?”
I nodded, mostly to be polite, and to conceal my unease and confusion. I could cover why I had walked into this room with the fact that he had told me to, so I was not worried that he could learn anything through my behavior thus far.
“Obedient slave” was an easy role to play, if one had a mind to. People talked around and over slaves, or even at them, without much concern. But they did not usually talk to them, and the other thing I knew about Theron was that he did not bother with slaves. So what did he want with me?
Did he suspect I was up to something? If so, did he have any idea how big a plot I was involved with? I didn’t know any details about Nathaniel’s plan, but the fact that there was a plan and one of Jeshickah’s own line was orchestrating it was the kind of information Theron regularly bought and sold. If I were willing to betray Nathaniel—not to mention every shapeshifter ever dominated by Midnight—I could probably turn a few words into a small fortune. With Theron as middleman, I would probably even survive to enjoy my rewards.
Did he sense that opportunity for profit? If he did, what was he willing to do to get it? Or was I jumping at shadows? I was the brother of the soon-to-be serpiente queen. That could make me a valuable contact, too.
I tried to wait patiently, telling myself it would be better to let Theron lead the conversation, but anxiety got the best of me. I asked, with only a hint of irritation, “Is there a particular reason you asked me to come in?”
He handed me one of the two glasses, and I took a cautious sip. The drink tasted vaguely like spicy mulled cider.
“Should there be?” Theron replied.
This is why I hate mercenaries, I thought. Did he know something or not?
“If you’re hoping I can help you connect with Aaron’s soon-to-be queen,” I said, “I’m afraid I will not be much help. Our relationship is a bit strained at the moment.”
“I gathered, despite your evasion earlier. What seems to be the problem?”
This man was too powerful to lie to on a subject that it was very likely he could and would confirm, so I admitted, “Not all of us were behind the plan to send Hara to Midnight.”
“What brought you around?”
I doubted the question was even remotely casual, even if he appeared perfectly comfortable as he relaxed in one of the armchairs, leaving me standing awkwardly nearby.
“What…” I contemplated the question. Again, there was information this man might have, so I was honest enough. Jeshickah already knew about the prophecy, though she didn’t believe in it, beyond its ability to manipulate people into doing things in her favor. “I’m familiar with your reputation. I’m sure you know the prophecy that Farrell was following from the day he bought me to the day he died. That prophecy said that Misha must take the throne. Whether or not it’s true, it was Farrell’s living goal and dying wish. The means may or may not have justified the ends, but they were the only means I knew.”
“You sound like you have your doubts as to whether or not the prophecy will come true.”
I shrugged. “I’m the one who said it, but I’m fallible, and falcon prophecies only show what might be, not what must be.”
“But you still hope it’s true.”
“Of course I hope it’s true,” I whispered. Part of Jeshickah’s arrogance was that she didn’t care who spoke up against her as long as their actions didn’t interfere with her empire, so I had no reason to lie. I wasn’t telling Theron anything Midnight didn’t already know, but for some reason the words made him smile.
He said, “And yet you’re here.”
“And yet I’m here,” I repeated with a frustrated sigh. Theron had been a mercenary for hundreds of years. I wasn’t going to trick him into saying anything he didn’t already plan to tell me, so he might as well get to the point already. ?
??And I don’t know why, so if you wouldn’t mind explaining—”
He cut me off with a raised hand reaching in my direction, and the words, “Come here.”
Was that the only reason he had asked me in—because I had demonstrated that I was not averse to being a bleeder? Now that he was not obligated to be professional and controlled, now that it was sunrise and time to relax, he was willing to let down his guard.
No, that was too simple. If there was one thing I knew about Midnight’s mercenaries, it was that they all put business before pleasure. Theron had chatted long enough to determine the extent of my value, information-wise, before he allowed himself to feed.
I could play that game, too. Maybe afterward, while Theron was lolling in the euphoria brought by taking my blood, I could ask him about Silver.
I went to where Theron was lounging comfortably in the plush armchair. He caught my wrist, and I thought for a moment that he would stop there, leaving me trying to stand while he bled me. Instead, he looked up with a chuckle and said, “I’m not looking for your blood right now.”
I paused, replaying his words in my mind. Had I missed something?
The mercenary stood suddenly and I jumped to find him so close to me, his black eyes filling my vision.
“Your blood is delightful,” he said, “and I would not mind another taste sometime, but right now, I’m more interested in something else.”
He wrapped a hand around the back of my head the same way he had when he had taken my blood earlier, but this time, instead of dropping his lips to my throat, he touched them to my mouth.
A heartbeat passed before I was able to turn my thoughts around to what had actually happened, as opposed to what I had expected, and then another passed while I tried to decide what I thought of this turn of events.
Theron was an attractive man. His hair was tied tightly back at that moment, but as soon as I tried I could envision him with that darkness framing his high cheekbones and oil-slick eyes. And his hands were strong but careful, as they trailed up my spine with just the fingertips touching me, barely a tease.
He broke the kiss and said, “If you want to leave, I will make no attempt to stop you. You’re freeblood, and if you’re willing to speak up against Midnight and support a queen on the throne whose reign you hope will topple that empire, you know what that means. In this case, I trust it means you know how to say no if you wish to.”
I considered it. Throughout my life, touch had more often meant pain than pleasure. My own kind was too afraid of my magic and my reputation to even consider that I might have any interest in a lover.
It didn’t take long to make my decision. I had done far more morally ambiguous things in my past than say yes when propositioned by an attractive mercenary.
“I have no intention of saying no,” I replied. Maybe Theron was still hoping to get information from me. Maybe I would be able to learn something valuable from him. I kept both of those considerations in mind, but the heart of the matter at that moment was that it was good to be wanted, and held. I might lose everything fighting Midnight, but at least for now I didn’t have to be alone.
“YOU’RE AVIAN?” SHKEI asked as Alasdair leaned against him.
“Yes,” she said, “I’m a hawk.”
“Royalty?” he asked, trying not to sound as skeptical as he felt. It was hard to imagine any royal given to such a place, but there were no commoner hawks.
“Not anymore,” she whispered. “How long have you been here?”
“It feels like forever.” He held back the words that wanted to tumble from his mouth about the months that had gone by, often in darkness or hunger, while he was handed from one trainer to another without any sense of what would become of him. Instead, he asked, “When they brought you in, did you see my sister? She’s a serpent, too, a white viper—” Alasdair tensed, and Shkei’s imagination immediately conjured a dozen dark images. He asked in a small voice, “Is she hurt? I don’t know how long ago the trainer took her out of here. I haven’t seen her since.”
Alasdair asked softly, “Misha?”
“Yes, that’s her, Misha.” He was desperate for news, even if that news was bad.
“She’s—” The hawk hesitated before saying, “I think I saw her before I was brought here. She was with a group of serpents. One looked like he might have been related to her. I heard them call another one Farrell.”
Joy washed over him, along with relief. Somehow, Misha had made it out of this hell. He didn’t resent the fact that she had left him behind; he didn’t for an instant believe that she had any choice. If Farrell or Malachi had seen an opportunity to rescue either of them, they would have. They would come for Shkei, too, if they could.
—
I slept better than I had in months, grateful to revisit one of the few moments of near-contentment from Shkei’s captivity, and one of the even scarcer comforts I was able to keep for myself: Shkei had trusted and forgiven me, even though I hadn’t been able to save him.
Alasdair had done many kind things for my brother, but the greatest boon she had given him was ignorance. She let him talk about his family, and about home, and she never replied, They were the ones who put me here. She could have let him die hating us, but she had never spoken a word against his family.
I woke alone on the couch in the mercenary’s sitting room. A quick survey of the room revealed my clothes, which some slave had apparently taken, cleaned, and returned in a neatly folded pile while I slept. I also helped myself to a platter of fruit, cheese, and fluffy rolls that were probably for me, since Midnight’s slaves would never have left them out to get stale for Theron.
I couldn’t resist poking around, but unsurprisingly, Theron did not keep any interesting papers or valuable information lying around the room. If there was anything worthwhile, it was hidden too carefully for me to find it without my search being blatantly obvious when he returned.
If he wanted me to stay and wait for him, he probably would have made that desire clear, so I let myself out. The clock in the hall told me it was almost noon, which was a little later than I had intended to start working on the task Misha had given me.
It would not have been a terribly long walk, but I didn’t want to waste any more time, so I changed into my wings as soon as I was outside.
When people thought of Midnight, they thought of Midnight proper first. They thought of the famous gardens, black roses, and frescoes…and of course, they thought of the slaves. From the sky, though, Midnight’s true power was even more apparent.
Down below, one could see the network of roads that connected Midnight proper to the surrounding territories; the elaborate estates owned by Midnight’s nobles; the village populated by the bloodtraitors who gave their labor to Midnight; and most importantly to me, the sprawling fields.
Many of the fields looked like they were currently in the process of being plowed or seeded, probably with the staples Midnight specialized in, such as corn, beans, and squash. A disturbing number already boasted stalks of wheat gracefully blowing in the breeze. I didn’t know much about farming, but I suspected I had been right: it was already too late in the season for the serpiente to hope to clear, plow, and plant seeds for a real harvest this year.
I landed at the outskirts of the farmland anyway, hoping to offer my assistance, and was swiftly reminded of one inexorable fact of my existence: the vampires trusted me, but even serpiente who willingly worked for Midnight saw a half-falcon child of Obsidian and instantly became wary. I was able to get simple answers—wheat, for example, was first sown in the fall for an early-summer harvest, making it impossible for Misha to hope for a crop this year even if she could somehow acquire the seed—but the cool, suspicious looks the serpents here cast my way warned me not to try to woo allies too swiftly.
Maybe I wouldn’t need to. Misha didn’t know that Midnight would fall soon. When it did, these shapeshifters would be without masters, and their stores and crops would be available to those who needed them
.
I offered my help anyway, if only so I could tell Misha I had. None of the serpiente wanted anything to do with me, but a group of avian farmers—ones blessedly unaware of the role my guild had played in Alasdair’s sale to Midnight—were willing to let me bend my back to help with plowing and planting. I chattered amicably, but learned only a little about farming and less about my companions. Shapeshifters who came to Midnight did so because they couldn’t go home. Some were guilty of worse crimes than the Obsidian guild had ever committed. They didn’t ask me where I had come from or why I was there, and they didn’t volunteer their own stories.
At sunset, I returned to Midnight, once again hoping to speak to Nathaniel. Unfortunately, he saw me first, scruffed me like an errant dog, and threw me so hard through one of the doors in the west wing that I hit the wall on the other side.
“Why do mercenaries all seem so anxious to drag me into their rooms?” I asked.
He responded by grabbing my arm and pulling me one room further, through an ominous wooden door I knew too well.
Though he worked as a mercenary, Nathaniel’s room in Midnight was constructed like a trainer’s, connected to a simple cell with slick stone walls and floor. The fact that his version of the cell boasted a thick area rug and a table and chairs did not stop my heart from pounding as he slammed the door shut behind us.
I hesitated to rise because the look on Nathaniel’s face was cold and filled with warning. However, he did not immediately close the distance in any painful way, so I slowly found my way to my knees, and then back to my feet, watching him for a sign that he intended to strike me down again.
“Are you stupid or a traitor?” Nathaniel asked bluntly.
“Many people would say I’m both,” I replied, trying to regain my equilibrium, and along with it the gentle pulse of my magic that essentially said to all around me, Harmless, I’m harmless. I’m not worth your trouble. I’m quiet. Don’t mind me here. Just let me pass by without bothering anyone.