Chapter. 39
The guards drag me back faster than I can walk. My feet trip over each other, putting all my body weight on my arms.
“Hold,” the king commands.
The guards stop, allowing me to stand but not releasing my arms.
The king steps towards me.
“Pardon the interruption,” Rahlan says, “My new pet is not yet trained.”
I glare at him, and he shoots me a sharp look.
The king cups my chin in his cold hand, forcing my head up. I tug against the guards, but their fists are like stone. A vampire is touching my face, and I’m helpless to stop him. My neck and shoulders are completely exposed. I can’t move an inch.
He finally removes his hand, but his gaze stays locked with mine. “Did the little one miss her master?”
I glance at Rahlan. He’s not pleased. The king could order his guards to attack me, and Rahlan wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop them. Not wanting to anger him, I give a small nod.
“’Tis pleasing to see humans dependent on their owners – the natural roll of their species,” the king says.
Our natural roll? I turn my head to hide my expression. It doesn’t matter what he thinks.
“Dismissed,” the king says. The guards release my arms before exiting out the curtain behind me.
The king returns to his desk with Rahlan. I rub the numb spots on my arms, watching both of them.
“I heard that you were too eager to wait for the city gates to fall?” the king says, “Charging in alone again?”
“I couldn’t risk the weasel Ivan slipping away,” Rahlan says. He appears to have relaxed now that the king has lost interest in me. I guess the king can’t execute a lord, but no such protection is afforded to a human like me.
“I take it he did not?” the king asks.
I pull my feet together and fiddle with my fingers.
“We will not be hearing of him again,” Rahlan says.
They’re just talking like I’m not here. I’m not seen as an enemy citizen who could leak their strategic information. I’m seen as a piece of property.
The king straightens the map on the desk. “I imagine it was cathartic?”
Rahlan folds his arms. “Why am I here?”
The king steps behind the table and brushes a sheet of paper off the map. “Your father’s estate is in chaos – guards scattered, mob justice not uncommon. Your mother’s not the leader he was.”
“’Tis not surprising.”
“I sent a liegeman to restore order, to act as a surrogate ruler. Your mother will continue to enjoy the luxuries of a lord’s lady without the inconvenience of managing her lands.”
“As she prefers.”
“Now as I have done a favor for you, you must do a favor for me,” the king says, “Become my vassal.”
Rahlan’s gaze falls onto the map stretched over the table. “My war with the humans is over.”
“Great rewards await.”
“My sword no longer strikes for silver.”
The king’s lips make a thin line. “If you will not fight, will you at least govern?” He points to the map.
Rahlan leans in. I want to see too, but I figure my presence is unwelcome.
“Litton Keep,” the king says, “Taken from the humans a week ago, with its village in need of guidance.”
Some human villages are allowed to remain? Though I’m guessing guidance is a euphemism for something much more sinister.
“’Tis far from the frontline. You will not be disturbed,” the king continues.
Rahlan rests his chin in his hand. The king scrutinizes his expression, trying to read him.
“Okay,” Rahlan agrees.
“Excellent.” The king smiles. “I will have my servant bring you my letter.”
Rahlan rests an arm on my shoulder and guides me out the tent. I glance back at the king as we pass through the curtain. His eyes remain focused on the map, with the small rubies in his silver crown shining in the candlelight.
I feel much better walking through the camp with Rahlan by my side. None of them will challenge me now, and it helps to lean my weight on him.
“It was just simpler to say I was your pet, right?” I ask, looking up at him.
He smirks.
“You got what you wanted, and like you said, your war with us is over. I’m leaving as soon as I can walk again.”
He lifts me up onto the wagon. “Your taste has grown on me.”
“Ha, ha,” I spit, “I am not your cup.”
He walks Mittens around to turn the wagon. “I’m confident that a little training will amend your rotten attitude.”
I glare at him.
A young man hurries over to us. “Lord Rahlan?”
Rahlan nods, and the man hands him a short cylinder. “The king’s letter.”
Rahlan thanks him and climbs on the driver’s bench.
Mittens hauls us out the camp, back onto the dark road. Heading away from that vampire hive allows me to relax again. I fold the blankets into a soft nest and snuggle between them.
Thin clouds drift across the starry sky above as we travel.
I sit up and stretch from my nap. The afternoon sun warms my skin. I slept most of the journey, and my body has thanked me for it. My head feels much better, only hurting if I put pressure on the wrong place.
The wagon crests a hill, and a castle comes into view. I grab the waterskin and take a seat next to Rahlan on the driver’s bench. “Is that Litton?”
He nods.
The castle has tall stone walls, but it’s nowhere near the size of the last city. Unlike Lord Guerin’s former castle, this one has no mote. Arrows lay embedded in parts of the wall too high to reach, and the wooden gates are stained with burns – remnants of a siege. This was a human castle not long ago. I hope the inhabitants managed to get away.
We enter through the arched gate, and Rahlan parks the wagon against the castle wall. A handful of guards on the ramparts watch our movements.
The castle’s keep is situated on a small grass hill, and the walls form a perimeter around the hill’s base. Unlike the cities before, there’s not much inside. A modest tower built in the wall houses the guards, and a thin thatch roof protruding from the stone acts as a stable.
I hop off the wagon and stroke Mittens’ nose. “That was far. Well done.”
“No appreciation for the driver?” Rahlan says.
“The driver brought me here against my will.”
“You’re not particularly willing to go anywhere.”
“That’s because you kidna-”
“State your business.” Two armored vampires stand before us. The black-haired one rests his hand on the hilt of his sword, making the blond-haired one look friendly by comparison.
I step back beside Mittens. Getting injured in a vampire skirmish would just be stupid.
“I am Lord Rahlan, vassal of King Groel, and new appointed governor of Litton.” He hands them the small cylinder. The blond guard pops the lid open, and a rolled letter falls into his hand. He breaks the wax seal and unrolls it, his eyes scanning the page.
The black-haired one has a thin battle scar across his face. His mean eyes meet mine, and I quickly look away.
The blond one rolls up the letter again. “Welcome, Lord Rahlan. I am Julke, and this is Keld.” He gestures to the other vampire who’s finally taken his hand off his sword.
“And those are the Maksan twins.” He points to two vampires on the wall. “We are the protectors of this keep. Our swords are at your service.”
“Four men for the entire fort?” Rahlan says.
“The humans are in no state to counterattack, and the people of the village fear us,” Julke says.
“’Tis not the humans that concern me.”
What non-human force could he possibly have to worry about? The vampire’s fury seems directed at my people alone.
Rahlan grabs my arm and tugs me to stand beside him. “This is my pet.”
“Asshole,” I mumble under my breath.
Keld shoots me a sharp look. I shift on my feet. What’s his problem?
“My poorly mannered pet,” he clarifies, “Arrest her if she tries to leave but go no further. I prefer to deal with such matters personally.”
I yank my arm away.
“You have done well despite your numbers,” Rahlan begins, “Close the gates. We’re not welcoming any further visitors. You’ll have to forgive me for our short introduction, but I have traveled far and am in need of rest. Tomorrow we will gather again.”
The men nod and return to the gate. The thick wooden doors are pushed closed from either side, and a large wooden plank is laid across them. The men strain to lift it up and slot it in place. If two burly vampires struggle to operate the gate, then I have no chance of opening it on my own, let alone without anyone noticing.
Rahlan grabs his bag and frees Mittens from the wagon. His arm wraps around my shoulder and guides me up the short hill to the castle keep.
The old door screeches over the stone floor as he pushes it open.
He nudges me in ahead of him. “I introduce your new home.”
I step inside the vast room. Large arches support the tall ceiling, and the high windows allow the setting sun inside, coloring the stone room orange.
My boot slips over some powder, and my gaze falls to my feet – blood.