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“I’m afraid I’m unfamiliar with the names, though there have been talks amongst my brothers of schemes to find the long-awaited Daughter of Katia, and some Bloodsingers have predicted she’d be born in Eserene. Bloodsingers, however, are strictly prohibited from taking part in such schemes, though I wonder if you came across some nefarious patrons.” His tone was more annoyed with the prospect than concerned.
The words I’d wanted to say lodged in my throat as my chest tightened. So the members of the Board of Blood may not have been Bloodsingers, is that what he was saying? Was he saying that they were regular people —evilpeople — who had enlisted the services of Bloodsingers and lost everything that made them look human?
And they were looking for me?
“Are you okay, Miss Larka?” Alvar asked, leaning forward, concern on his face.
I stared at him, bile surging from my stomach along with the one question I needed answered, the one thing I needed him to confirm. My words came out in a hoarse whisper. “So Bloodsingers don’t harm people?”
He sat back, his eyes wide. “Saints, no. Though we practice a form of magic that most of society considers unsavory, we still have a strict set of laws we must abide by, set by the Sanguilite. One of those laws is that we cause no direct physical harm to another being. Did someone…”
If he’d finished his sentence, I hadn’t heard it as realization hit me like a cannonball to the ribs. The little I thought I knew about the Board of Blood had gone out the window, thrown by Alvar’s words.
The Board was not made up of Bloodsingers. Bloodsingers weren’t malicious. The Board of Blood was made up of people who’d been ensnared by the allure of blood magic.
I shot up from the chair, clutching the cloaks for dear life as if they could keep my brain from thrashing inside my skull. Alvar stood slowly, smoothing his hands down his chest as he stared at me with concern. “Thank you,” I blurted, “for your time.”
“Of course, Miss Larka. You’re always welcome.”
With nothing more than a parting nod, I left Alvar and The Empty Mirror with a pounding heart and head, both so heavy I could have collapsed in the street.
Chapter 11
“What the hell took you so long?” Miles demanded as I approached the group waiting at the top of the hill. “You’ve been gone an hour.”
“I couldn’t find a shop with cloaks,” I offered weakly, hoping he wouldn’t see through the lie.
Nell eyed me but said nothing. “Lieutenant Sunshine over here hasn’t stopped pacing since you left.”
I passed the cloaks to my waiting companions, folding my own over my shoulders after Miles all but snatched his from my grip. “I’m on edge,” he snarled under his breath, the words clipped as he pulled his hood up over the ram’s head.
“You’rereallygoing to leave the mask on?” I asked him, brows raised. “You look ridiculous.”
“Let’s move before we lose daylight.”
I rolled my eyes at him. He did look ridiculous, like some kind of reaper, the twisted metal ram’s horns protruding from beneath his hood. “Whitley, Augen,” he commanded, pointing to Nell and Whit, “find food, water, and supplies. The plan is to travel back to Aera, but we need to be prepared in case a detour is necessary.” They nodded, setting off toward the city. “You,” he said to me, “with me.”
“Yes, Sir,” I muttered, following as he began to descend the hill. I was sure he shot me an irritated glance from behind the mask.
“Meet back here in an hour,” he called out.
? ? ?
My mind was mush as I tried to make sense of what Alvar told me. I didn’t want to think anymore. I blindly followed Miles as we wove through the streets of Aera.
“There’s a smith up ahead. Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking. Got it?” His tone was harsh, so harsh that something in me finally snapped.
“What is your problem?”
He continued walking, each of his steps intentional. “What?” he asked flippantly.
“Do you feel guilty for what you did to me or not?”
He stopped in the middle of the red dirt street, spinning to face me. His stare held me in place for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Yes, I feel guilty, Petra.”
I mulled over his words, the clipped tone, the square set of his shoulders. “You’re awfully rude to me despite that guilt. Then you turn around and complain about being on my bad side. And then you’re complimenting me and my powers in front of a tent full of soldiers. Next, you're snapping when I ask any sort of question. I’m sick of this back and forth. Which is it?”
I felt his gaze burn into my skin as he took a step closer to me. The knotted scar flexed from where it peeked out below his mask, his face now hovering inches from mine. His stare was intense, even though there was a layer of metal that separated his eyes from mine.
