Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I’m able to move around the next day. Ever since Valen took me outside, I have a better grasp on days and times. It’s as if that brief glimpse of the sky reset my internal clock. I estimate it to be morning, perhaps just after dawn, when I leave my room and head to the stairs. As always, I pause at the top and listen. No sound, not even the faint hum of Gorsky snoring in one of the bedrooms behind me. He’s been quieter lately, out of sight. It’s a good thing. I don’t want to see him. But it also makes me uneasy, especially given his threat. I run my hand along my side, the blade tucked in the pocket of my loose joggers.
Then, as quietly as I can, I move down the stairs. When I get to the Green Flame Level, as I call it, I keep my breathing calm and even. I need to investigate every cranny of this horrible place—and that includes the rooms where I’m interrogated, no matter how much I hate it down here.
The red dragon motif has gotten old. I ignore the jade green eyes staring at me as I creep through the double doors that lead through several rooms. They are all so overdone, dripping with finery. I wonder how old the golden tapestries and ornate chandeliers are. And why would Valen choose to live in a place like this? If anything, he’s somewhat austere in his appearance. I’ve never seen so much as a ring on his finger or any hint of the gaudy style that surrounds him. I suppose I can just add that to my pile of questions.
I keep going. Sticking to walls and ducking behind cases filled with pieces of China or statuary. A hoard, treasures everywhere though no one is here to appreciate them. Only me.
When I get to the room with the green flames, I peek inside. It’s empty. No fire. No Whitbine. I wipe away my sweat mustache and venture deeper, farther than I’ve ever been in this part of the castle. The rooms seem almost endless down here, and there’s no apparent reason for why some rooms are attached by short hallways and others lead directly onto larger areas. There are plenty of paths I haven’t taken, and I expect it would require hours, maybe even days, to explore every nook.
I creep along, taking in the many doors, each of them marked with the red inlay tile. Dragons, all of them watching my every step. I’m scowling at one of the dragons, this one with blue eyes, when I hear voices.
Creeping forward, I edge around a wide couch to another set of doors. One is slightly ajar, light shining through the crack, and I move closer, taking each step with utmost care so as not to make a sound.
“—timing was still wrong. When we got there, Carlotta’s forces were already rounding up humans and executing them.” A male’s voice, but not Valen and not Gorsky. Who’s here?
“I can’t do anything about it. Not now.” Valen sounds tired. There’s a strain in his voice I’ve never heard before. “Gregor demands we kill until no human still draws breath. You know his orders. If Tantun arrives before the rest of our forces, it’s another step closer to the throne for them. They’ll take any advantage they can get. It’s all part of their ploy—pretend to be loyal now and strike at the first opportunity. Traitorous wretches.”
“We have to work out a better solution.”
“There’s no solution to Tantun bloodlust. Or Gregor’s, for that matter. We have to keep pushing.”
A loud sigh. “Have you seen him?”
“Yes.” Valen.
“And?”
“He grows more erratic by the day. More bodies. He’s ordered the servants to put a fresh corpse in his bed every morning. He wants to wallow in blood, to delight in death.”
“And there’s nothing to be done?” the other man asks so quietly I almost miss it.
“Nothing I can do. You know that.”
“And nothing Corvidion and Tantun haven’t tried to do a thousand times over and failed. Fuck!”
They’re silent for so long that I wonder whether they’re preparing to jump out and grab me.
“What of the dissenters?” the stranger asks.
“I executed those 12 Corvidions three days ago. No Tantun has spoken against the human extermination.”
“One of the 12 was of my line. Druin.” The visitor doesn’t sound angry. Only sad.
“I know,” Valen’s somber response.
More silence. Uneasy and thick, as if there’s something unspoken going on that I can’t sense. I close my eyes, listening hard for any sound.
“And her?” the visitor asks, finally breaking the quiet.
Valen gives a short, harsh laugh. “Her.”
“Has Whitbine broken her, gotten the information he seeks?”
“No. She’s strong.”
“He’s stronger. A human can’t stand against a vampire, not even a weakling like Whitbine.”
“True.” Now it’s Valen’s turn to sigh. “But she may surprise us all.”