Page 156 of Blood Curse

Mara folded her arms. “We agreed to secure the blades.”

“We agreed to secure every blade the Crown can use without first controlling me.” I touched the wrap under my coat. “This one remains where I can choose what happens to it.”

“And if it orders you to draw it?”

“Then a locked chest won’t stop me. We have already proved that.”

Her mouth tightened. She remembered how little the locked armoury had stopped me. So did I.

“You’re keeping it because Bryony told you to,” she said.

“Bryony returned the choice to me. The difference matters.”

Mara held my gaze, then nodded once. “Fine. If anything changes, tell us before it reaches your hand.”

“I will.”

Elias came up from the cellar carrying a crate of sealed bottles.

Mara lifted one end of the chest. I took the other, and we carried it into a side room off the lower court. She turned the key and handed it to Elias.

“You’re the least likely to open this unless somebody needs stitching,” she said.

Elias pocketed the key. “A poor system, but probably accurate.”

“It’s one fewer sword near open blood,” I said. “It doesn’t have to be brilliant.”

The work had started with four decisions. Humans stayed outside the Night Hall once blood was opened. Weapons went into the chest. Every door remained unbarred. The tables stayed far enough apart that one hungry vampire couldn’t reach three others without taking a few obvious steps.

That was the whole plan.

Anything more would become theatre. The Crown could still use Bryony’s voice and take every vampire body inside Harrowmere. Furniture wouldn’t defeat it.

The preparations were for us. Hunger, fear and bad judgement remained ordinary dangers even while a cursed object tried to turn them into something worse.

A broad vampire in a worn brown coat held a short hunting knife with a grip polished by years of use.

“I crossed three countries with this,” he said. “It stayed on me while I slept.”

“Then leave it in your room and collect your blood from the cellar,” I said. “The chest is for anyone joining the gathering.”

His fingers closed around the grip. “Is that an order?”

“It’s a condition for carrying an open bottle into a crowded room. You can refuse it and drink elsewhere.”

“And if the Crown speaks?”

“The knife won’t save you from a completed command. It might kill the person beside you if ordinary hunger gets there first.”

He looked towards the Night Hall. “You’re asking us to trust one another unarmed.”

“I’m asking you to decide which risk you can live with. Harrowmere has rooms enough for both choices.”

The court member beside him opened the chest. “Mine went in. If I lose control, I’d rather be embarrassed than armed.”

The man in brown swore under his breath. Then he laid the knife beside the swords instead of dropping it.

“I want it back afterwards.”