Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
He traced away. Leaving her alone. Weaponless. In the middle of Strigoi Gorge.
The closest one hissed, its fangs dripping. Another crouched low. Wings unfurled. Talons clicked against stone as their shadows stretched over sand.
Some fates were worse than death. Coștin had just offered her up to one.
The snarling pack closed in from all sides, eyes aglow with hunger.
Like her mother, Nadje had booked her passage too late.
Chapter 48
Ven
Bloodreach
“Why do we have to wear water plants on our heads?” Chiyo asked, holding a foul-smelling clump of them as though it might bite. Rain dotted her lashes, her face woeful.
Eyrun tossed a paddle into the canoe. “Camouflage on the water. We’ll grab the next two clumps for ourselves.” She tipped the bow toward the Scarlet Shallows.
“Clouds hide the moon. No one will see us, right?” Chiyo nibbled her wet lip with a small vulpine fang.
Ven yanked her gaze from that tempting mouth. I don’t like distractions. So why do I like this one? “The moon can break through while we’re paddling,” she said. “You wanted to come as we investigate? Then do as we ask or go home.” She and Eyrun climbed into the canoe.
“Fine.” Chiyo crossed to the bank to join them. Her movements when sword fighting were precise and economical, yet her gait was an ass-swishing, hip-swinging miracle. She carried herself as if she always sported the bushy tail of her shifter form.
Ven rolled her eyes—at herself—and admitted: I’m a fan.
She’d thought Chiyo might share her interest, yet after seeing Ven do her job in Grimrock, she’d cooled. But removing demon testicles is just a part of the grind, shifter. See me, love me.
Or don’t.
Chiyo climbed in behind them, then took the sodden, rotting mess and plopped it on her head like a coronation gone wrong.
Ven and Eyrun guffawed with laughter so hard they rocked the canoe.
Eyrun cried, “Great Freya, she did it. I never thought she’d do it!” She dug her paddle in and sent them speeding across the Shallows.
“Tch! If this is your best, I misjudged you both.” Chiyo snatched the plant off her soaked hair and flung it away.
Splash! A nearby sea serpent gobbled it down, thinking it food.
“We don’t do camouflage,” Ven said. “If anyone spots us spying on Bloodreach, so be it. Few warriors remain, and what would the nobles do? Perfumed-handkerchief us to death?”
Eyrun pointed out, “They could use harsh language to put us in our places.”
“I’m all a’tremble.” Spying here was easy enough to do. At night, the vampires left their curtains open, figuring the sea monsters would keep any observers from the waters.
Those creatures should, and the Shallows were home to an infinite number of them: massive krakens nearly as large as the castle…sea hydra with a thousand arms to match their appetite for flesh…serpents with their fins breaching, the warning before a strike…
But Valkyries considered themselves the alpha monsters in any situation.
As they neared the castle, its tower rose like a torchlit city. Nobles occupied the middle floors in a haze of incense, their laughter echoing through open archways. Silken limbs intertwined on couches while jeweled goblets spilled blood across marble floors.
Ven’s gaze drifted upward, past the revelers, to the tier of royal apartments where princes and princesses toyed with lovers or fed from trembling donors.
Above them all, on the highest floor, a guard ushered Prince Coștin into King Neculain’s study, a vaulted chamber heavy with old-world opulence. Dark wood shone beneath the light of chandeliers.
Aside from blood-thieving, this kingdom was also known for weaving, and tapestries lined one wall. Red dominated, the thread dyed in blood.
A large balcony perched over the Shallows. Stained-glass windows flanked its doors, which had been left open to the misty air.
The king awaited Coștin inside, his face lined with anger and pallor, his woven robes fluttering like a pennant. Chained at his feet, a half-naked Berserker female gazed at nothing with vacant eyes. Crimson tracks descended from pierce points all over her bared breasts.
Why the hells hasn’t Queen Yrsa rescued her own?
Once the guard left, Neculain appeared to lay into his son, fangs bared, his hands flying like confused birds. The tapestries closest to him riffled as if afraid. His irises were the color of freshly spilled blood, and insanity bled off him.
Coștin stood with his head unbowed, a defiant smile threatening.
Though the rain dwindled, Ven couldn’t pick up the conversation over the activity of nearby sea monsters, who fought and copulated all around them. An energetic mating ball coiled not twenty feet away.
She heard only fragments from Neculain: Emilia…failure…ashes…no son.
And Coștin’s own: Underestimated…glory…secret…crypt.
“Look at those two.” Eyrun sounded fascinated. “Talk about crazy. Like two halves cut from the same wrecked tapestry. Is Neculain disinheriting him?”
Chiyo swiped wet hair from her cheek. “That would be my guess.”
With a dismissive gesture, Neculain turned to refill his goblet from a blood mead service. A sconce lit his face—ancient, terrible, done.