Give me something, Weaver. Anything.
With enough force, sometimes an Arachessen could snag bits and pieces from a person’s past or future, like a difficult, highly-abridged, even-less-useful version of seering. Usually, it provided nothing useful. But I was desperate.
I pushed against Atrius’s presence and was greeted with a barrage of fragmented images and emotions.
Mountaintop night sky cold cold cold the prince isn’t moving blood on a blade wipe it with cloth the prophecy was a lie a sea of ash a sky of mist and—
“The prophecy,” I blurted out. “I know about the prophecy.”
Atrius’s shock actually showed in his face. Radiated from his presence. He lowered his sword a little in a way that seemed unintentional.
Then a sheet of cold rage fell over his gaze.
“What are you talking about?” he snarled.
I’d just made a huge mistake.
“You didn’t let me complete my Threadwalk,” I said, carefully. “You stopped me. Because you didn’t like the… grounds upon which I tread.”
“Don’t seer about me.”
I raised my palms a little more. “I know. But because you stopped me, you didn’t get the full truth.”
His throat bobbed. He looked genuinely torn as to whether to kill me or not.
“What did you see about the prophecy?”
I smiled sweetly at him. “I’ll tell you if you promise not to kill me.”
“I don’t make those kinds of promises.”
“I’ll take a lowered sword.” I wanted that thing out of my face. It was still covered with the guts of Aaves’s goons. What an insulting way to die.
He ceded. Barely.
I leaned back against the wall.
“Tell me,” he demanded. His shoulders were heaving in a way that I suspected had nothing to do with the exertion of the last several hours, which didn’t seem to bother him until now.
I noted this carefully—this prophecy. The mountain. Nyaxia.
The prince.
All these things were very important to Atrius. The only times I had ever witnessed him upset were when they were mentioned.
That was useful.
“The truth?” I said, raising my palms in concession. “Maybe it’s a mistake telling you this, but what I know is vague. Only that it exists. I sensed it in my Threadwalk. After I saw… you. If you won’t take my head off for making that reference.”
Atrius didn’t take my head off, but he still looked like he was considering it.
“I know you have a greater mission,” I said quietly. “I know this is about more than just conquering for you. Even if not, I can’t offer you the specifics. Not without your cooperation.”
Weaver, I was pushing it. And yet, somehow, even as the words flowed over my lips, something deep inside me thought… perhaps they were true. There was more to this than Atrius was showing me.
His face shifted, revealing so little and so much—all but confirming my suspicions.
“What benefit do I have in lying to you, Atrius?” I murmured. “Either you kill me, or the Arachessen will. To be honest, I would prefer you do it.” My toe nudged one of the bodies on the ground. “At least you’re swift about it.”
“Only sometimes,” he said.
He was deep in thought, sword still hanging at his side—staring at me hard, like he was trying to take me apart.
I chanced taking a step closer. Tipped my chin, cocked my head. I had no big beautiful eyes to bat at him, but I knew the body language—curious, innocent, submissive.
“If you want to know more about this—this prophecy, I could Threadwalk again and—”
“No.”
Just as swiftly as he’d drawn his sword, he sheathed it. The tension broke. He turned away. It was as if he’d never considered killing me at all.
“Go find Erekkus,” he said. “He’ll give you orders. We have plenty of work to do.”
Atrius did not rest before cementing his hold on Alka. He ordered a sweep of the towers, eliminating the last of Aaves’s men, who hid in the shadows, foolishly throwing themselves at Atrius’s warriors wielding frying pans or dinner knives. They were easy to root out.
I wasn’t sure what I expected Atrius to do once that was done—strip the capital for resources, perhaps, or set up his men in the civilian homes—but it wasn’t what he did.
I was with Erekkus, dragging away bodies from the first floor of the tower, when Atrius appeared on the balcony that overlooked the crumbling homes of Alka’s people. Everyone stopped their work, necks craning. Erekkus was pulled away by another soldier who said something in Obitraen to him.
“What’s going on?” I asked Erekkus, when he nodded and returned to our work.
“Atrius is addressing the people. They’re going to get everyone out of their houses to listen.”
Addressing the people? I couldn’t quite name why this was unbelievable to me—maybe it was because the idea of Atrius making a speech seemed absurd, or maybe it was shocking to me that the vampires considered the citizens of Alka people worth addressing at all.
“They’re going to terrify people. Everyone’s going to think they’re about to get rounded up and slaughtered.”
Erekkus shrugged. “Maybe. But they’re not.”
“Why not?”
He chuckled. “You’re not the first one to ask that question,” he muttered.
“Atrius doesn’t kill the civilians of the cities he conquers.”
I couldn’t quite tell if there was a question mark at the end of that or not.
“No. He doesn’t. Not one of them, if he can help it.”
I thought about Raeth.
If he can help it.
We hoisted another body over the edge of the ravine, to be burned in the pit below. It made a series of very unpleasant cracking noises on the way down.
“You’re surprised,” Erekkus said.
“He didn’t strike me as the forgiving type.”
Erekkus laughed, like I’d said something legitimately hilarious, the sound punctuated with a grunt of exertion.
CRACK, as another one of the bodies fell against the rocks.
“Why is that funny?” I asked. Despite myself, I was panting. These bastards were heavy. I supposed decades of a life of sickening luxury built on the backs of your populace would do that to a waistline.
“Atrius has an interesting moral code.”
“I’m just surprised, given—”
“Given that we eat humans. Last one?”
He pointed to one final body, a silk-drenched old man with a clearly broken neck, and we crossed the room to drag it over.
“Yes,” I said.
“I’ll be honest, Sister, a lot of us do think we should be eating a whole lot better on this trip than we are. But—” Another grunt, as we hauled the body over the edge. CRACK. “—Everyone respects Atrius. And Atrius believes he can’t rule this kingdom while also eating its subjects, which, I begrudgingly have to say, does make sense.”
I stopped mid movement. My brows rose without my permission.
“Rule,” I repeated.