“Fair?”
“You need protection. You’ll have it. And you want to leave Glaea. You’ll have that, too, once we’re done with you.”
I scoffed. “You expect me to believe that you won’t simply kill me when you’re done with me?”
It was almost funny to me that he was even pretending otherwise. Even if he had completed his task, it would be stupid to let me go. Just like it was stupid of him to keep me knowing the Arachessen wanted me.
He seemed offended that I’d question his truthfulness. “I don’t lie.”
“Everyone lies.”
“Not me.” He stepped closer, closer, until he stood right in front of me again, the scent of salt and iron thick in my nostrils. “Don’t be foolish. Maybe I haven’t been in this country long, but I already see it isn’t different from mine in any way that matters. You won’t outlast the Arachessen another month without me. Don’t spit in the face of your protector. Accept a gift when it’s offered to you.”
My mouth twisted into a sneer—this one too easy to fake. I wondered if he had convinced himself he was this country’s savior, too. “So benevolent of you.”
I jumped a little, startled, as he touched my cheek, the rough pad brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“You’re lucky,” he said, “that I have a soft spot for caged birds.”
7
I was brought to my own tent. My wrists were shackled, and I was chained to the center post. At least, in a small show of mercy, the restraints were long enough that I was given some room to move around. There, I was left alone for hours.
Eventually, I leaned against the post and reached through the threads that connected me with the others here. If I guessed correctly, it would be past midnight by now, and the camp was abuzz with activity. The tent’s fabric was thick, making it difficult to make out the specifics of what was being said outside, but I caught fragments of grumbled conversations about exhaustion or hunger, and pieces of orders shouted at slacking young soldiers in Obitraen.
I knew better than most that all people were, more or less, the same. Yet, even I might’ve expected something… less mundane, from an army of cursed vampire warriors. It was almost funny that the way they spoke was so similar to what I’d heard from human soldiers as a child.
I let myself fall further into the world around me, my awareness of my body loosening. The threads tied tight around me, growing taut as they stretched further, further, forming connections between me and the countless vampires outside.
Sometimes young Arachessen asked me, on the verge of tears, whether it ever stopped hurting. They always looked and felt so utterly hopeless—exhausted by the sudden stress of their new way of experiencing the world, their minds and bodies strained with the sudden weight of it all.
In those moments, I had the shameful desire to hold them, stroke their hair, and lie to them. It’s hard now, I so wanted to tell them, but it won’t hurt anymore later.
I didn’t tell them that, of course. That was too easy and dishonest of a comfort.
What I offered them instead was, One day, the pain won’t matter anymore, and the power it grants you will matter immensely.
That, at least, was true. No, it never stopped hurting, but pain grew inconsequential as it simply became another bodily constant.
Still, even for me and all my years of experience, the weight of the camp and the thousands of souls that surrounded me stretched me to my limits. With every forced nudge of my subconscious further into those outside, my headache grew more intense, sweat pooling at the small of my back.
Captains, generals, foot soldiers. Equal parts men and women—very different from Glaean armies, which rarely contained women. All ages, from young teenagers to seasoned warriors.
I tucked these little pieces of information away.
Enough of facts. Now I wanted emotions.
Exhaustion. Hunger. I haven’t eaten in three fucking days. But also, resolve. Satisfaction. Vaprus was a solid victory. Long way to go, but we’ve come far.
The conqueror. Show me what they think of— “Hey! Seer!”
Someone shook me hard by the shoulders, sending the world crashing back down around me. My body responded before I told it to, jumping to my feet and reaching for the sword that I, of course, did not have.
I stopped myself halfway through the movement, bracing against the pillar.
The floor tilted. The room spun. Vomit made it partway up my throat before I forced it down.
Center.
My threads dangled wildly, still leaving me partially connected to the world beyond. I reeled them in carefully, drawing my attention back to the room around me.
It was dangerous to yank an Arachessen from a Threadwalking session so abruptly. If I’d been doing anything deeper, such an interruption could have killed me.
“I… sorry.”
The accented voice was gruff and stilted. One of the conqueror’s soldiers—the man who had dragged me from the inn—stood before me. He took a few steps back, like he was nervous to be so close to me.
“You wouldn’t wake up,” he said, half-apologetically, half-defensively.
“I was fine,” I said stiffly.
Not that he needed to know what I was actually doing.
He held up a plate. On it was a single, messily cut turkey leg.
“I brought you, uh, food. If you want it. From him.” He glanced at the plate, then at me. “It’s—”
“I know what it is.”
“It’s cooked.”
“I can see that.”
The man seemed unsettled by this, giving me a skeptical stare I was certain he didn’t realize I saw.
I slid down the post and sat down, legs crossed.
“Thank you,” I said. “I am hungry.”
“Don’t thank me,” he grumbled, before setting the plate down in front of me. He sat on the ground, watching me. His fingers played at the cut on his cheek—the one I had given him at the inn. Vampires really did have incredible healing abilities. The gash was barely there.
“That already seems a lot better,” I said.
“What?”
“Your cheek.”
After a moment of hesitation, I bit into the turkey. It was incredibly bland and overcooked, and cold, like someone had carted this back from the nearest town. I supposed I couldn’t fault them for not really understanding what humans ate.
“So you really can see, huh?” He was openly skeptical. “Despite the eyes.”
“Yes.”
“How many fingers am I holding up?” he said, not moving.
“None,” I replied.
He muttered, “Damn,” which sounded like either respect or disapproval, or probably both.
I took another bite. It was awful, but I was hungry.
“So you’re here to supervise me?” I said.
“Something like that. At least until we know you aren’t running.”
I jangled a chain and smiled. “Clearly I’m not going anywhere.”
The soldier did not smile back. “My commander has a high opinion of your cult. Thought it would be foolish to rely on iron to keep you.”