Page 13 of Bloodkin


  “You bluffed an immortal, ancient power capable of defying even natural laws of space and time?” Nathaniel paraphrased.

  “It responds to the royal house,” Vance replied. “If the prince can be fooled, then it can be, too.”

  “I see.” Which, in that context, obviously meant, You’re lying. I know it. Do you know it?

  Was Vance lying? Would he have gone through with his threat if the forest hadn’t released us?

  Defensively, Vance added, “I owe more loyalty to Kadee than I do to the Shantel royal house.”

  “Naturally,” Jaguar replied, studying me in a way that made my skin crawl. I had a feeling that Vance had just handed them a weapon, and it was me.

  “To summarize,” Jeshickah said, “the Shantel propose to offer one younger prince, with no expectations and no magical training, as full compensation for their treason.”

  Why did she look at me when she said that, and not Vance? Did I appear the weaker one in our pair?

  Probably. I tried to gather my wits, though. “Shane does have some magical ability.” I was thinking of his empathy, though how that could benefit Midnight, I had no idea.

  “Oh?” Jeshickah leaned back in her chair, showing polite attention but little interest. “It must be something spectacular if they think it is sufficient to buy their safety—especially since I am not yet convinced they even plan to follow through on this deal. What incentive do I have at this point to let them barter and whine at me? I gave them an opportunity to protect the freeblood status of their people, and they refused. At the moment, I am inclined to simply burn the forest, and take for my own anyone who makes it out alive.”

  My whole body went cold at the thought. Could she do that?

  Magically, I wasn’t sure. Legally …

  I rallied once more, recalling what Shane had said to me about why Midnight had never forced them to trade in flesh before. “If you do that,” I said, “you will lose all power you have over them.” My voice shook a little, but I forced myself to continue. “If you declare that every Shantel’s life is forfeit, and there is no way to barter or seek forgiveness, they will know the only way to protect themselves is to destroy you. You saw what one deathwitch was able to do. Do you want to force every Shantel who flees a burning forest to become a potential assassin? Or do you want an opportunity to make a profit?”

  For a moment, as my heart pounded, I was proud of myself for standing up to the vampires. Then Jeshickah spoke.

  “They would not be the first nation we have brought low,” she said, “and whose witches still attempt to needle us. Even Vance here has fought such a creature once, gallantly defending his mistress.” Her voice seemed to slice through me. I braced myself, certain the next words were going to be worse. “If we accept a deal with the Shantel, it will not be out of fear of retaliation, I promise you that.”

  She paused, took a sip of her tea, then continued. Her gaze flickered from me to Vance as she said, “What we need to establish now is not how far I am willing to go, but how far you are. The Shantel offered you a deal, but you are right that their actions violated its terms. You owe them nothing. What is your intention moving forward?”

  The last hour had been hell, but now I realized the hard part was just beginning. Jeshickah had suggested that she might be willing to make a deal, but that meant she expected us to propose one. If Shane wasn’t sufficient, what were we willing to promise on the Shantels’ behalf?

  As if it were the reason for my hesitation, Jeshickah added, “We would offer you compensation for your work, of course.”

  “We don’t need anything from you,” I said, but I felt less certain now. I wanted to help the Shantel, but that didn’t mean I planned to work for Midnight.

  Most importantly, I needed to get away from these five vampires and their perfectly black eyes, masking souls just as dark. Get away from the gentle scratching of a quill pen as the enslaved hawk diligently recorded everything we said. Get away from the scent of tea and honey, served by a young man who had probably lived his entire life in slavery.

  Anxiety and exhaustion were pushing at me. My fingertips gave warning twitches. I clasped my hands together in my lap, but if I didn’t have a chance to calm myself soon, those little spasms would grow to encompass my whole body.

  “If we have nothing to offer you, Kadee, then you may leave,” Jeshickah said. “We will continue to negotiate with our Vance.”

  Vance’s eyes narrowed a bit at the word “our,” but he said only, “I’m not sure Kadee is safe wandering this building alone.”

  Had he noticed my state? Had they? I didn’t want to leave him alone, but it seemed safer to risk walking out of the room long enough to compose myself than falling into a fit that could leave Vance forced to care for me.

  “We’re all here,” Jaguar remarked. “Who do you think will accost her?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t want to learn through experience,” Vance replied.

  “I can escort her.”

  The soft, musical voice made us all turn toward the hawk in the corner.

  I frowned. I had not heard anyone give her a command, though Ashley—once Alasdair—was obviously considered a broken slave, and broken slaves as a rule did not speak up without a master’s order.

  “That would be fine,” I said. Ashley’s collar clearly marked her as Gabriel’s property, so no one in this building would dare assault her or someone with her except him—and as Jaguar had pointed out, the trainers were all here. In addition to needing to get out for a moment, I wanted to know why a broken slave had spoken, of what seemed to be her own free will.

  Maybe she wanted to accuse me of kidnapping her and selling her into this miserable existence. If she did, it would be no worse than I deserved. I would almost welcome abuse from her, if it could help me dig my way out of the guilt I felt whenever I thought about her.

  Jeshickah nodded to give permission, and without another command spoken, Ashley handed her pen to one of the other slaves and moved to guide me toward the door.

  “Are you sure, Kadee?” Vance asked as I stood. He was asking Are you all right? but I couldn’t answer that question directly.

  “You make the deal you need to make,” I said. “Take care of yourself and our guild, and I’ll see you when you’re done.”

  Vance did not appear convinced, but he looked at me and then around at the trainers and said, “Okay. I’ll do my best here. Let me—” I had a sense that he had been about to say, “Let me know what she has to say.” He was as curious about Ashley as I was.

  I took my leave of the vampires gratefully, and followed Ashley from the room.

  MY THROAT FELT tight, and a fine shiver kept running up and down my spine. Before I could learn anything from the hawk, I needed to get my body under control.

  “Would it be possible for us to get some fresh air?” I asked, before realizing that I didn’t know if a slave was allowed outside.

  “If you wish,” Ashley answered before leading the way back to the front doors.

  The hawk was beautiful, and seemed so serene. Could it be that there wasn’t anything she was supposed to say? Was she just trying to set an example for us, so we could see both what Midnight was capable of doing to a freewilled individual … and how much easier it was to submit, and just let it happen?

  We reached the front garden, and I was finally able to take a deep breath of the cool night air. A fine drizzle had started to fall, but I didn’t mind, and my golden-haired guide didn’t say a word. As I waited for my trembling to subside, and for Ashley to share whatever was on her mind, I considered a thousand possible things I could say.

  “Do you know who I am?” I finally asked.

  “Kadee Obsidian,” she answered promptly, still without malice in her voice. “Companion of Lord Vance, I believe.”

  I wasn’t sure what she thought that word “companion” implied, but whether or not she correctly understood my relationship with Vance wasn’t something that concerne
d me.

  “Do you know how you got here?” I asked. She had called me Obsidian. Even if she hadn’t recognized my face specifically from the kidnapping, she had to recognize that name, unless something in the process that broke her as a slave also erased those memories.

  Her serene expression cracked for just an instant, to reveal what seemed like fear, but then the calm returned before she said, “I am aware that your guild facilitated the exchange.”

  “Fancy terms for saying we sold you into slavery.”

  “You had no choice.”

  At the time, I had told myself the exact same thing. Now, looking at this woman who had been stripped even of her name, I could only say, “Yes, we did.”

  She looked me in the eye, gaze direct and voice unwavering, when she said, “A trainer only offers a choice when there is no choice. The decision you had to make was between a stranger, or one of your own. What you need—” She swallowed, dropping her gaze to say, “What you need to know is that the woman you brought back may be a stranger, too. Do not trust her.”

  “Do you know something I need to know?” I asked. Ashley must have seen whatever transpired between Misha and Gabriel earlier that night. Had Misha betrayed us?

  “I’m sure it isn’t my place to decide that,” she murmured in reply.

  I glanced up, wondering if her sudden vagueness was related to the shapeshifter guards nearby. Could they hear our soft voices from where they were perched in bird form on the iron fence? Possibly, and we were just as likely to be overheard by guards or vampires inside.

  “Did someone tell you to warn me?” If she had made the decision on her own, I needed to reevaluate my understanding of what it meant to be broken. If someone had ordered her to speak to me, that opened up worlds of possibility. Did we have an ally inside Midnight? More likely, someone had decided to unnerve us with this vague warning.

  Or they wanted to split us up. I had been so desperate to leave, and so intrigued by Ashley speaking seemingly of her own accord, that I had jumped to accept her offer. It occurred to me now that Gabriel could have set up some kind of signal he could give to his slave if he saw an opportunity to separate Vance and me.

  “If I’ve offended you, I apologize,” Ashley said, though whether she was responding to my question or my expression as I realized this could have been a setup, I wasn’t sure. Either way, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get an answer.

  “I should get back,” I said.

  “As you wish.”

  My stomach tied up in knots, I hurried back toward the library with Ashley trailing behind me. I wasn’t enough of a coward to sit on the front steps of Midnight and wait for Vance to join me, now that I had my body under control. By the time I reached the room where I had left them all, however, Jaguar was just saying good evening to Vance.

  Gabriel was waiting to greet Ashley, and wrapped his arm around her waist, planting a kiss on her forehead. I was reminded of what the deathwitch had said: he is broken, and does not know how to love something and let it be free. If that was what love meant to a trainer, I never wanted to see hatred.

  “Show these two to a guest room they can use, beautiful, then come back to me,” he ordered her.

  She nodded, the motion extending to her whole body, so it was almost a curtsy. Gabriel left without another word to us, and Ashley simply said, “This way.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked Vance as we followed the hawk down the hall.

  Vance shook his head, frustrated. “They are willing to negotiate, but it isn’t going to be pretty. I shared Shane’s argument for why he should make a suitable payment, and pointed out that they already have Amber. Unsurprisingly, they don’t think it’s sufficient. Mistress Jeshickah wants to ‘consider the options’ and get back to us tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow night?” I hissed.

  “I didn’t agree,” Vance said quickly. “If we stay, we can hear and discuss their offer. If you want to go, I’ll go with you.”

  I want to go! Of course I did. I wanted to walk away and never look back. I didn’t want to remain here among trainers, or listen to them say that Shane wasn’t valuable enough. I didn’t want to look at Ashley, and wonder if Shane would have that same doll-like poise once Midnight stripped him of everything that made him a free-willed individual. I wanted to go home to the Obsidian guild campsite.

  What will you tell Farrell when he asks what you learned from the Shantel?

  I would tell him they asked for our help, but that it wasn’t our responsibility to save the Shantel. I could picture Farrell nodding, and telling me that I was a free individual who owed the Shantel no allegiance … even though they once saved my life, and were the only ones who had ever dared to try to fight Midnight, the very empire we were trying to destroy. He wouldn’t say that last bit aloud, but I would see it on his face. Hadn’t we become slavetraders, and sold Alasdair for Misha, partly to fulfill a prophecy that said Midnight would fall? Was I so much of a coward that I would refuse to help the Shantel because their attempt to make a difference in our warped world had brought repercussions?

  I was a child of Obsidian and before that I had been a child of a Revolutionary soldier. Could I turn my back on this?

  “Kadee?” Vance asked, concerned. He was waiting for an answer.

  My thoughts were chasing each other in circles. “We should stay,” I said.

  I was scared, and I wanted to run, but running would make us helpless. If I woke up a few days from now and saw the forest burning, I would never forgive myself. If Midnight never fell, I would always wonder what might have happened if someone had been brave enough to help the one civilization with the nerve and power to stand up for themselves.

  When Ashley pushed open one of the doors in the north wing, we stepped inside. Vance dismissed her as I looked around the room, which was as ostentatious as every other part of Midnight I had seen. The painting on the wall, which was titled Naraka, according to the plaque beneath it, depicted a hellish scene lorded over by a red-robed man with blazing eyes and skin the color of the sky before a storm.

  I was horrified by the picture itself, but Vance’s reaction was more personal. He knew the artist.

  “I hate this place,” I said, an understatement for which I had no better words, as Vance caressed the painting’s slick wooden frame.

  He jerked his hand back as if shocked by his own gesture, then matter-of-factly reached up, took the painting down from its hooks, and placed it on the floor facing the wall.

  “Will we get in trouble for that?” I asked.

  “Only if Lady Brina sees. We can put it back before we leave.” He shrugged, too casually. “Did Ashley say anything interesting when you were alone with her?”

  “She said we shouldn’t trust Misha,” I said. “She wouldn’t tell me anything more, though.”

  “I don’t trust her,” Vance said immediately. “I trust you and Farrell, and I mostly trust Malachi, and … I more or less trust the others, but I’m reserving judgment even about them.”

  I felt as guilty as I did gratified to find myself on that list. He trusted me. More importantly, he felt the same way I did about Misha.

  “There wasn’t much else,” I said. “She’s obviously—” Broken was the word trainers used for a person who has been stripped of will, but I didn’t want that word on my tongue. I wasn’t even sure it was accurate. “Her mind isn’t right. She says she knows we—I—the Obsidian guild put her here,” I said, stammering as I tried not to include Vance in that crime, “but she acts like it is meaningless to her. I don’t know how clearly she is able to think about anything.”

  “That might be all her warning means,” Vance suggested. “She knows Misha was the reason for her own enslavement, so perhaps seeing her and then us triggered some garbled memory and a vague warning.”

  I nodded. Maybe that was all it had been: a traumatic memory rising to the surface of a damaged mind.

  “Are you hungry?” Vance asked.

  I
nodded, grateful for the change of subject. Perhaps I should have been too horrified to even think of wanting food, but righteous indignation was a stupid reason for an empty belly.

  “Is there any way to cook in here?” I asked, thinking about the supplies we had with us. There was no fire in this magically heated room. Making due with dry, uncooked trail rations wouldn’t make me feel any better about facing the trainers again the next night.

  Vance shook his head. “Guests aren’t expected to cook,” he said. “We can either order a meal to be prepared for us, or go to the kitchen on our own.”

  “Where’s the kitchen?” I asked. I would willingly eat Midnight’s food, which had practically been stolen from shapeshifters in the first place, but I didn’t think I could stand to ask a slave to wait on me, which I assumed was what Vance meant when he said “order a meal.”

  “This way.”

  Vance led us confidently into the hall, then paused. I saw indecision cross his face, and I asked, “Do you know where the kitchen is?” It was probably an insulting question—even serpiente royals could locate the kitchen, though I was pretty sure none of them knew how to use it—but for all I knew, Vance hadn’t been allowed to visit such a common place. The vampires hadn’t wanted him to know too much, after all.

  “It’s in the south wing,” he answered immediately, “so we have a choice. Would you rather go past the trainers’ rooms or the slaves’ cells?”

  “This way,” I said, turning away from the library and the areas we had seen earlier. I wanted to avoid the trainers for as long as I could.

  I wasn’t prepared.

  We passed a guard as we entered the east wing, through a heavy door that was closed but unlocked, and then all hints of comfort disappeared. Plush woven carpets gave way to gray stone, worn smooth by centuries of hopeless feet. Where other halls had boasted artwork, wood paneling, and frescoes, here there was more stone, occasionally dotted with ominous iron brackets or bars. I did not want to consider their possible uses.