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“Who is this?” Lucius asked, his amber eyes wide.
“Her name is Jinx.” I followed her into the ring, a little put out that my cover was blown. I’d desperately wanted Lucius to finish that sentence, to explain what he’d meant. “She’s my companion.”
Sparrow hooted. “You have a cat? That makes Maximillian’s nickname for you even more hilarious.” He slapped his thigh, shoulders shaking with laughter.
Lucius frowned as he sank to his haunches. “But you’ve been gone for fifty years. How could she have survived, especially for so long?”
He extended a hand toward Jinx, his claws glinting in the moonlight. I expected her to turn her nose up at him, but to my surprise, she nudged his hand with her forehead, then rubbed her entire body against him. The giant warrior softened, and he picked up the cat, wonder glimmering in his eyes as he cradled her in his massive arms. The golden beads in his braids clinked as he moved, and I blinked as I realized they'd been sculpted into ornamental wolf heads.
“She’s not a normal cat,” I explained as he stroked her fur. “I used my shadow magic to create her when I was a kid, because I’d spent a lot of time with the Ferae, and I was jealous of watching all my friends riding around in the forest on their direwolf familiars. I wanted one of my own.”
Lucius nearly dropped Jinx, and she hissed at him as he fumbled her back into his arms. “You spent time with my—with the Wolven Tribe?” he asked as she jumped out of his arms and returned to my side.
“Now that’s something I didn’t know about you,” Sparrow commented. He had drawn a dagger from his boot and was now using its tip to clean his claws, keeping one eye on Jinx. “As far as I was able to uncover, you were born and raised in the Nocturne Clan. They don’t typically allow young witches to leave the clan until they’ve completed their first Twilight Communion.”
I shrugged. “I’m not like most witches,” I said, unwilling to divulge more of my past to him. He knew too much as it was.
“Clearly,” Nyra drawled, and the three of us turned to see her stride into the training arena. I blinked at the sight of her in a simple cotton tunic and trousers, a markedly different look from the sleek dresses she wore as her professional uniform. Her lips pursed as she studied the cat, and she added, “We don’t have meat to feed her.”
“She doesn’t need food,” I said. It appeared that, unlike Lucius, Nyra’s love for animals didn’t extend to cats.
“Good. Now if you’re not going to spar, you should leave.” Nyra drew her sword and pointed toward the exit. “This is our training hour, and you’re wasting it with all this pointless babble.”
Sparrow snorted. “Says the one who walked in fifteen minutes late.”
Nyra scowled. “Eliza and I have been running ourselves ragged all day preparing for Vinicius’s arrival. That’s a perfectly valid excuse.”
“Who is Vinicius?” I asked. This was the third time they’d mentioned him, and I was curious to know the identity of the vampire causing so much consternation.
“He’s a self-important snake,” Lucius growled, his eyes flashing.
“Also known as our esteemed emperor’s Master-at-Arms,” Sparrow finished. “He’s in charge of weapons and procurement for Noxalis’s navy, so he visits our factories regularly to check on development and inspect shipments. Our dear Eliza has been working round the clock on a new aether cannon design courtesy of Icarus Stormwelder, and good old Vinicius has come to test the new prototype.”
My stomach sank. “What are these cannons used for?” I asked, though I had a sinking suspicion I already knew the answer.
Nyra and Sparrow exchanged loaded glances. “The magical shield that protects the witches from invasion is a land barrier only,” Lucius explained when they didn’t answer. “They are still open to attacks by sea, and since Vladimir gained control of the Marisian navy when he conquered Heliaris, he has been making full use of those ships to wear down Trivaea’s coastal defenses.”
My stomach dropped. Crescent Cove was located smack dab in the center of Trivaea’s coastline. Our connection to the lunar cycle and the tides made it an ideal location for us to practice our craft, but it also made us more vulnerable to naval attacks than the other clans. The Blackwater Pirates had forced us to develop our own naval defenses a long time ago, but there was a difference between dealing with a handful of pirate ships and an entire fleet. How in all the hells had Sebastian held them off this entire time?
“So you really have been helping him destroy my people,” I said, clenching my fists.
“We don’t have a choice,” Nyra snapped. “We are all blood-bound to the emperor, either directly or through his servants. If we don’t make the weapons for him, someone else will.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. There has to be another way.”
“There is,” Sparrow said.
My jaw tightened at the meaningful note in his voice. Right. By helping Maximillian kill the vampire king. “And how do I know Maximillian won’t continue this reign of terror on his own, especially since he’s already got the infrastructure in place for it?” I clenched my fists. He’d been so complacent when I’d told him about that poor slave being whipped in the streets. I couldn’t trust him not to turn on me as soon as I helped him take power. No matter how enticing his offer was.
“There’s no point in reasoning with her,” Nyra said, crossing her arms. “Why did you come here, anyway? Clearly it wasn’t to train,” she said, raking a scathing look down my body.
I flushed—I was wearing a simple plum day dress, which wasn't exactly suitable for sparring. But how was I supposed to know Jinx was taking me to the training yard? “I came here because I wanted to ask Sparrow if he had any information about Trivaea for me,” I said, looking at the spymaster. He cocked his head, drawing my attention to a tattoo of a frothy sea wave splashing up the side of his neck.
It occurred to me then how strange it was that all these vampires bore the marks of their human ancestry so openly. Lucius with his Wolven hair beads, Nyra with her tribal riding leathers andthe painting she kept in the Tower, and Sparrow with his visible neck tattoos. None of the vampires I’d fought had ever displayed trinkets associated with the lives they’d lived before they’d been Turned. As I understood it, abandoning all possessions and markings from the past was a requirement all Sires demanded of their Descendency candidates before they could undergo the Turning.
So why didn’t Maximillian demand it from his vampire children?
“I see.” Sparrow arched his eyebrows. “What information are you looking for, exactly?”
