Because did I actually want to help Atrius conquer Alka?
No. Of course not.
I hadn’t thought this far ahead. I couldn’t claim that I saw nothing. That was clearly untrue, and it would mean Atrius would probably kill me and run off to go find a more useful seer.
I could make up something. Something truly nonsensical.
Or…
“The full moon,” I said. “Move for Alka under the full moon.”
It was an impulsive, risky lie. But I was not about to help Atrius kill hundreds or thousands of my kin. Besides, Alka was a difficult territory. There was a reason why Atrius was unwilling to move on it without the help of a seer. If he failed here, it could be enough to stop his progression completely.
And if he still managed a victory… seering was unpredictable and hard to understand. I could weave a story for him, build myself a net of reasonable doubt.
Atrius seemed dubious. “You’re certain?”
“I’m certain.”
“I want to know what else you saw.”
Content that my single lie would be enough, I told him the rest of my journey truthfully—of the king, the rocks, the mist. I even drew what I recalled of the arrangement of the channels for him. He wrote down all of this in a beaten-up little leather notebook that he withdrew from the pocket of his jacket, often stopping me to make me repeat descriptions verbatim.
I had to appreciate his thoroughness. At least he respected the art of seering more than I expected him to—understanding that it was about general interpretations, not questions and answers.
When I got to the end of the vision about Alka, I paused and observed him. He was finishing writing the last description I had fed him, sitting cross-legged in the sand, his head bowed over his work—leaving those horns on full display.
He didn’t have those in my vision.
I shivered against a breeze.
He finished writing, and his eyes flicked up to me. “And?”
A single, expectant word. He knew there was more. Nothing that I had described to him would rise to the intensity that would’ve left me twitching in the dirt like I was.
I could tell him that was it. I would maintain another secret card in my hand, but he would know I was lying, and I would have to deal with that mark on my trustworthiness later.
Or I could tell him what I saw and see what his reaction taught me.
“I saw one more thing,” I said.
He waited.
“I saw you.”
Still, no reaction.
“You were younger,” I went on. “You had none of your… physical abnormalities. You were on a mountain, with another soldier.” I thought about the scene again—with the added context of what I knew now. “Another Bloodborn vampire, I think.”
Atrius’s presence had gone very, very stoic. Utterly unreadable, like a wall of steel. It was rare I saw anyone capable of stilling themselves like that.
“The two of you were on a mountain peak,” I said. “And you went before a goddess.”
Nyaxia, I realized now. It had to be Nyaxia.
“Nyaxia,” I corrected myself. “And she—”
“That’s enough.”
Atrius rose abruptly. The stillness of his presence shattered into cold anger.
“Never do that again,” he said.
Atrius did not raise his voice. But that was only because he was not the type of man who needed to. The quiet carried his threat, and his rage. Enough to shiver up your spine like the tip of a blade.
“Never do that again,” he repeated. “Do you understand?”
“What?” I asked. “Seer? You asked me to—”
“Do not seer about me.”
And this was the stab, sharp and brutal.
“I—” I started, ready to weave my web of sweet apologies, but Atrius shoved his hands into his coat pockets and turned away.
“Erekkus will get you ready to leave,” he snarled as he walked away, leaving me on my knees by the bonfire. “Don’t try to run. I’ll find you. Be back at camp by sunrise.”
10
“Doesn’t that hurt?”
Erekkus cast a glance down to my bandaged feet. Atrius had been true to his word—he’d sent Erekkus to me with medicine after I made it back to camp, apparently long after he did. Erekkus had given it to me and then dutifully stepped to the other side of the room while I applied it, apparently to show his self-control in the presence of my blood. I could appreciate that.
The medicine was magic, and it worked well. Still, the wounds were tender and sore, especially since I’d been on my feet immediately the next night, called upon to help alongside everyone else with breaking down the tents. Erekkus worked with me on mine, always calling me back sharply if I wandered too close to the other soldiers.
“Stay in my sight,” he said. “He’ll have my head if one of them gets their hands on you.”
“So that’s your incentive to keep me alive,” I said, returning to his side. “We’ll both be equally fucked if I die.”
My language must’ve been surprising, because Erekkus arched his brows and shook his head.
“What?” I said. “I’m religious, so I can’t curse?”
He froze for a moment before resuming his work.
“That’s fucking uncanny,” he muttered.
I took my mission seriously… but I had to admit that in between all the very important work, it was fun to unnerve a Bloodborn vampire.
I liked messing with Erekkus, and it was shockingly easy to do. Atrius seemed to expect that I’d stay by Erekkus’s side at all times unless I was with him, so there were plenty of opportunities for it.
After one such event, when I snapped at Erekkus for something he was doing behind my back and he palpably shuddered with discomfort, I couldn’t help but laugh aloud.
“You enjoy this, witch,” he muttered.
“I’d think you’d have thicker skin.”
I turned and helped him haul the rolled up tent into a carriage. The horses shifted and snorted impatiently. I sensed their unease—near constant. I wondered if these beasts had been brought with the conquerors on their ships from Obitraes, or if they had been stolen from locals here. If the latter, they still seemed very wary of their new vampire masters.
“My skin is very thick,” Erekkus grumbled. “I fought the Wraiths of Slaede. Do you know what those are?”
I shook my head, amused by his seriousness. He leaned over the top of the wagon.
“Embodiments of death itself. Vampire souls tortured and mutilated until they became nothing but shells of pain and anger. I fought a thousand of those things. A thousand.”
“Hmm.” I pushed the cart door closed, latching it. I felt Atrius before I saw him—I always felt him, as if ripples in the threads constantly flowed in his direction. He hadn’t spoken to me at all since his outburst, instead occupying himself with the preparations to move camp. My awareness lingered on him as he helped some of his other soldiers disassemble tents.