Page 99 of Astarion

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“You’ve something to add, my child?” Cazador’s eyes were hooded, but there was enough amusement in his voice to keep Astarion talking.

“Why, yes. Yes, I do.” And I wish to the gods I knew what that was. Astarion smiled languidly, trying to assemble a story and failing utterly. His mind was blank of anything but the truth.

“As it happens, I know this paladin. He was a useful tool in acquiring the god’s blood. Ironically, his order specializes in hunting the undead.”

Cazador chuckled at that, which gave Astarion a glimmer of hope.

“I’m not sure why he’s here. Certainly I did not tell him where I lived. Nevertheless, if we kill him, the rest of his order will eventually come looking for him. It’s entirely possible that they will tell other paladins as well. It could lead to…questions.”

The vampire lord frowned, as Astarion had expected. If there was one thing the old man hated, it was questions. “Do you have a different suggestion, then?”

“Blood is only briefly on the lips. To destroy an enemy’s soul, though…that lasts forever.” Astarion let his smile grow, showing his fangs. “If you will allow me, Father, I believe that I can rid us of this guest in such a way that none of his order will ever look for him again.”

“Hmm…” Cazador tapped a long finger against his lips. Astarion tried to look as if the outcome did not concern him at all. Was that enough? Too much? Should I have tried to go a different way entirely?

All the best lies are true. Cazador nodded benignly. “You intrigue me, child. I will allow you to try.”

“Excellent.” Astarion bowed deeply. “I require only one or two simple orders, sir. And then I suspect you will find it quite amusing.”

—

Den Suriel was pacing the room like a caged tiger when Astarion opened the door and slipped through. The aasimar spun on the balls of his feet, lifting his sword, then recognized him and lowered the blade. “It’s you.”

“I’m surprised you found this place.” It wasn’t the palace proper, just one of the many entrances scattered throughout the city, but even so, it was hardly the sort of thing you’d stumble on by accident.

The paladin shrugged. “It’s amazing what you can do with a location spell. Wherever this door leads is heavily warded, as I’m sure you know, so I walked the city until I found one of your brethren and followed him back here.”

“Ah. That would be the actual Petras, I expect.” Astarion allowed himself a small smile. “He was never terribly bright.”

Den Suriel looked exhausted. There were gray hollows under his eyes, and his patrician features were drawn and frayed. Less a statue, Astarion thought, and more a death mask.

Den Suriel’s pale gaze roamed over Astarion in turn. The vampire wore a loose white shirt, open at the throat, and stood barefoot on the stones. He bore no obvious weapons, and his hair was tousled as if from sleep. If the aasimar was looking for a threat, he would see nothing but vulnerability.

The silence stretched out between them, agonizing and intolerable. Den Suriel ran one hand through his hair, fingers clenching as if he wanted to rip it out.

“I’ve come to kill your master,” he announced in that ringing paladin’s voice.

“I know.” Astarion’s own fingers itched to reach up and push the paladin’s disarrayed locks back into place, the way that he might straighten a painting that had tilted to one side.

“Are you going to try and stop me?”

“Not exactly.” Astarion’s sigh came from the depths of his toes. “He bade me to give you a message.”

“He did?”

“He did. He will open the door behind me when I am dead.”

Den Suriel blinked, his voice becoming more gravel and less gold. “What? What does that mean?”

“It means, my dear paladin, that you will have to kill me to get to him. As long as I live…” Astarion lifted his hands, palms up. “…the door remains barred to you.”

“Is this some kind of trap?”

“It’s too simple to be a trap, I think.”

Frowning, den Suriel reached beneath his tabard and pulled out his holy symbol. Astarion braced himself. He was certain that he’d read the man correctly—well, almost certain—but if the paladin tried to turn him, all bets were off.