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“We’ll be less conspicuous if we split up,” Soren finally spoke up, the master of hiding and being inconspicuous—when he wanted to.

“Anything we can uncover about Vylheim’s status, Silver’s army, and the people’s loyalty is valuable information we can use to plan,” I said. My duties as king came naturally after the seven years I sat on the one throne of Vylheim. I’d strategized before in case of revolution or betrayal from the other vampires. No doubt Silver was doing the same.

“Got it,” Lux and Stasia agreed.

Though I said goodbye, I couldn’t tear my eyes from Lux as she moved through the throng. Once she approached a wool trader, I let my fists unclench and turned to move with the flow down the market path.

I stepped up to a booth with smoked cod. A woman with curly white hair kept it bundled atop her head in several winding braids. The escaped tendrils framing her jaw gave me a glimpse of what Lux would look like as she aged. At least that was one thing I still shared with her. She’d age like any human without access to the gods’ realm, but she wouldn’t die, not unless she met Odin’s prophesied fate at the end of worlds when Fenrir opened his jaws and devoured her.

I pointed through the rising plumes of smoke. “What is the cost?”

The elderly woman wiped her brow and bent the back of her wrist against her hip. “Too expensive for you.” She waved me along.

I glanced at the tattered clothes I’d left Mara’s Keep in weeks ago. Weather had ravaged my former fine garments, leaving them discolored with the grim hues of blood and mud. It didn’t matter that I washed it in the spring by our camp; the stains were as impossible to remove as the vampire blood decorating Mara’s Keep. I frowned. I had no desire to see the spattered remains of my loyal subjects on the spires. Lux’s description of it was more than enough for my weak human stomach.

With a sly smile, I pushed through the smoke, lowering my hood just enough for the old woman to glimpse my features. “That may be true now, but when I’m back on the throne, I’ll supply your fish to the castle kitchens.”

The speared wooden fork in her hand fell to her feet, and her quivering hands shot to cover her open mouth. She spoke through her fingers. “I’m sorry, King Drakkar, I did not recognize you with the shadow⁠—”

I raised a finger to my lips. “No one must know I’m here until you tell me something.” She blinked bloodshot, dark-ringed eyes at me. Hopefully, the little good I did after dismantling the Blood Council helped win the people's favor. Lux had helped them trust me on our first Supplication Day together. We’d have many more similar days together if I returned to that throne. Her presence was the sole reason I'd consider enduring life in Mara's Keep again. We’d have another—real—wedding, and we’d feast as humans do, on sweets and wine, on mutton and whatever Stasia cooked up for us.

A patron appeared beside me, handing her a burlap sack full of what I could only assume was seed. I tugged the hood up again and fell back so they could trade. She peeked into the sack, and then eyed me as she gave him three cooked fish for the contents.

As the patron stared, I became acutely aware of the crowd closing in. The market teemed with bodies; anyone could overhear, but we needed information, and this woman’s reaction of respect and apology leaned toward trust.

I smiled to indicate for her to relax, but relaxation in Mara didn’t seem possible. “Why is it such a high price for fish when we’re surrounded by the shore?”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s what the king wants to know?” The skepticism in her voice filtered through the shock.

I held my smile as best I could, because what came next would frighten her. “Fish are loyal to the water, dying only when pulled out by bait. How many have taken the bait of fear?”

It took her a few seconds to piece this together, her eyes scanning the chaotic flow of people moving through the bustling market. Finally, recognition dawned on her wrinkled face. She understood I didn’t speak of fish, but of the people of Vylheim. “All are afraid, my king—” I tapped my fingers to my lips again, hushing her. Quieter, she said, “But few take bait, for the bait is sour. There is no comfort in a bite. A bitter taste isn’t worth the fall.”

I nodded with a low hum of acknowledgement vibrating in my chest. “And are the fishers plenty?”

She shook her head once. “They’re strong, but with…” she shot a look at an approaching patron. With a tentative smile, she waved them closer and traded a single fish wrapped in dried leaves for kindling. She picked up her spoon and busied herself with cooking again as she spoke. “With the fresh flow of fish from across Drukna, we’re plenty. Some say these unusual fish leap so high that they have wings.”

“Wings,” I repeated thoughtfully. Like Valkyries? No, my instincts told me this was different. Valkyries obeyed Odin, and if so many had existed for centuries across Drukna, he’d have sent them to take down vampires, and it wasn’t since before Lux created vampires that we fought West Anglor. Until Silver sent a raid. But Silver wasn’t a god, and in Odin’s role, Lux would have identified the captives if they were her messengers. These wings weren’t of Valkyries.

She gave me a single nod and the weakest smile. “Unnatural abilities.”

“Do these fish also nip at the fishers’ ankles?”

“All do.” She leaned closer, dropping her voice. “And with wings, it is not only ankles they bite. But this is only a rumor.” Another patron stepped up, and she waved her words away. “Just ramblings of a mad old woman.”

“Thank you,” I said, flashing her a wink, so she’d know I understood. Though I didn’t know how much I believed about the captives’ abilities. In all my time spent around ancient vampires, they spoke of no creatures beyond animals, humans, Valkyries, and gods in this realm. Because of the sagas, we knew other realms held giants and elves, but as one of the nine realms, ours was uniquely Odin’s creation. Until Lux—until vampires. Were more undead or inhuman creatures lurking here? The only other strange creatures I’d ever heard of were those created by Silver’s imagination when she told silly childhood stories. Was she spreading these stories as truth now? I could recall the horned horses and faerie people who lived in seasonal courts. She had an imagination even wilder than the sagas.

If these people existed, the sagas would mention them. Lux would know.

I plucked a button off my coat and offered it to the old woman. It was bronze, made of the same valuable material as the throne. Given the high vampire mortality rate since the Blood Council disbanded, I was uncertain if bronze had fallen out of favor. It once out-valued gold and silver because vampires were cursed against touching the purer metals.

Her eyes brightened enough for me to know it was still valuable, though it couldn’t feed or clothe her. She shoved cod tucked beneath a fold of leaves at me.

I accepted it gratefully and turned to find Lux now that we had enough information to start the inklings of a plan. People still held loyalty for their king, but it was their hatred for Silver that would give us the edge.

And these other creatures—the captives. What did the sagas say of them? How easily could we rise against an army of vampires? If nothing else, I had my knowledge of Mara’s Keep, my experience as a vampire, and a god at my side.

Spotting Lux’s green hood among the faces, I smiled, and she returned it with a faint nod. She’d earned information too. Only the story of our people brought that light to her eyes. More for her to add to later sagas, and I swore to endure long enough for our story to be among them.