Page 22

“Carver—”

“Which window?” he asks again, muscles coiling with tension.

I hang my head, too ashamed to see the look on his face as I tell him. As vampires, we outlive family, friends, lovers, and companions. All that lasts as long as us are the things those we care about leave behind. Treasures and souvenirs and gifts that are eventually caked in dust and lost to age.

Unless you’re Carver, who can breathe life into the inanimate.

As guilt swells within me, I say, “Julian’s.”

Risna swears as Eivor gasps.

Then, silence.

No one speaks. No one fakes breath.

Carver launches himself at me with a blinding quickness. I do nothing to stop him. His fist collides with my face with a sickening crack, and my lip splits. Tasting my own blood, I ready myself for another blow and another. Bone shatters in my nose, then heals, only to shatter again.

Risna and Eivor know better than to intervene.

Pain shoots through me with every strike, and the ground rises up to meet me. It’s a welcome, well-deserved embrace for what I took from him. Cobblestones dig into my skin through my shirt. My own blood mixes with the repugnant scent of the deceased around me.

As soon as the beating starts, it’s over.

“I’m sorry, Carver.” I sit up and wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve. “Truly.”

Standing over me, Carver offers me a hand and hauls me to my feet. “I will forgive you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t harp on this for the next hundred years.” His voice is thick with emotion. “Was she worth it?”

More than he knows.

“She’s—”

There is a slight scuffle in one of the alleys, and I snap my mouth shut. Raising a finger to my healing lips, I silence my kindred. We keep preternaturally still amidst the carnage and listen. There’s nothing. Yet a scent drifts into the courtyard—wildflowers and vanilla—and my legs become leaden as I compel myself not to give in to the hunt, into the urge to find her and claim her.

“Must’ve been a rat,” murmurs Eivor. “Want me to check it out?”

“No,” I say far too quickly. I clear my throat and glance at Carver, needing to get back to the situation at hand. “Nothing I say or do will ever make up for what I’ve cost you. I am sorry, brother.”

He nods.

“What a lovely apology and pathetic brawl,” says Risna. “I’ve seen toddlers fight more viciously.”

“You’re insufferable,” Carver huffs, minutely shaking his head. “What’s next, then?”

I crouch next to one of the bodies. Her throat gapes open, mouth wide with fear.

I look up as Risna looms over me, eyes as black as piano keys. “Something doesn’t feel right about any of this. I’ve heard rumors of lesser assassins sent to eliminate other kingdom’s sacrifices, but never us. So why now? What is it about this sacrifice that’s different from all the others? Why send us to eliminate her?”

A jolt of unsteadiness darts through me. Does Mihal know what Rory is to me?

Impossible.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say softly, so quiet only my kindred can hear me. “No harm will befall Rory. I will not allow it, and as my kindred, you will not allow it either. Mihal’s orders be damned.”

“Quill,” she scolds me as if I am an unreasonable child. “Mihal will have your balls, if not one of our heads, if we don’t complete this mission.”

“I will find a way to handle him,” I growl.

Risna’s forehead wrinkles. “But⁠—”