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I KILLED A VAMPIRE.
Well, a half-vampire. But still.
I had the strength to behead a supernatural creature.
With one swing of a curved blade, I’d destroyed an enemy.
And I’d done it by picturing the half-blood as Cirillo Kaladin.
Gifts, Aeros had said we had. If we did, Koen’s had to be that violent state of inhuman strength. Considering I could barely run or smash something with a rock, I doubted our “gifts” were the same. I wasn’t special. I was just a natural fighter who worked her fingers to the bone to survive in an arena.
But when I saw Koen fighting two half-bloods at once and Sloan at the fanged mercy of the other, I felt a violent outside force grip my body like a vise. I sensed it take control of my limbs and fill my veins with strength and energy like I’d never felt before. I felt powerful—no, I felt invincible. Like I could uproot an entire tree or—or kill a vampire.
I grabbed the scythe, ran through the front doors of the barn, went around the back way, came up behind the half-blood holding Sloan hostage, and beheaded him in a single swipe.
I didn’t hide the adrenaline-fueled glee that surely showed on my face. I was smiling so wide it hurt my cheeks.
Horror started to set in when I recognized Koen’s wary expression—he feared my reaction. It was fundamentally wrong to be excited by an act so terrible.
If I had the same crazy strength as Koen, I wanted to use it for good.
Also, who would have thought I would suddenly take a liking to scythes?
I almost laughed at the Bloodfrost half-blood, Aspen, who appeared out of nowhere and claimed he could help us escape.
He was very pretty, with silky black hair down to his waist and one section shaved close to his scalp on the right side. His sclera was a smoky gray, and the irises of his long, narrow eyes were the color of a midsummer sky. Like most Bloodfrost, he was lithely muscular, and his faint accent was lilting. Agana Kirsi’s coven was undoubtedly the most beautiful of the four.
It was easy to be beguiled. I mentally shook my head. He wasn’t my type.
I glanced at Koen and Sloan. Neither of them was fazed; duh, they were from Bloodfrost. But they didn’t seem to recognize him.
On the other side of the buildings, the Square was readying to hunt us down. But no one was swarming to the barn. Had the two half-bloods who ran off not told anyone?
“Why do you want to help us?” Koen asked, hoisting his scythe. “Why aren’t you turning us in to Agana?”
Aspen—an apt name, considering the ashy paleness of his skin—quirked his lips as if Koen had told some joke. “I’d say ‘do you want me to’ if I didn’t want to leave this accursed town, too.”
This time, I did laugh. Everyone turned to look at me, but I didn’t balk. “How are we supposed to believe that?” I hissed. “Who are you?”
“Aspen of Bloodfrost,” he said with a smile that made it hard to dislike him. “I would soon rather be Aspen of Anywhere-but-Sanlow. Shall we get going?”
“What’s your plan?” Koen asked.
Sloan smacked her brother’s arm. I was glad she used the hand that wasn’t wielding the knife. “Koen!”
He looked at her innocently. “What? I think we should trust him.”
“Why?” Sloan and I demanded together, ignoring Aspen’s beaming smile.
He didn’t bother keeping his voice down when he said, “How many people do you know that say they want to leave town? None. Anyone who does means it, right?”
Koen’s hazel eyes locked on mine. I suddenly lost myself in them. It was so hard for me to trust others, as I’d been let down too often for me ever to let my guard down. But Koen... From the moment I’d stood on the auction stage, he hadn’t left my side. He’d defended me against the Gold God and his lackeys, he’d tended to me in the barracks, led me out of the arena, and gave me the strength to break his chains and save him and Sloan.
No one else would ever do those insane things for me. Everyone I knew would save themselves because they couldn’t care less about reckless little Maer Whisler.
“Maer.” Koen’s voice was soft, pleading, hoping to get me on his side.
I blinked away tears before they could form and looked away. He was right. Anyone would be completely deranged to say they wanted to leave unless they meant it with their whole heart. Even a half-blood.
“I mean it,” Aspen said, his smile smaller but still genuine. “I’ve wanted to for years now but haven’t had the gall to do it. But I saw you in the arena—”
“I’m sorry, Aspen,” Koen interrupted kindly, “but maybe we could save stories for afterward? So what’s your plan?”
“It’s—Hurry, over here!” he hissed when voices came near. We all huddled close to the nearest building. A vampire’s sense of smell was incredible, and a half-blood’s wasn’t far behind. A human’s was poor compared to theirs, and in this case, that was a very good thing. We wouldn’t be tracked easily.
I liked my personal space; I didn’t like the huddle. Luckily, the voices grew distant, and Aspen continued in a rush, “It’s the same as yours. Steal a carriage, too. I can stay in the sun for only so long. We race to the town’s edge and get as far away as possible before nightfall.”
We kept looking at him, expecting him to continue. His excited expression faltered. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You’ve wanted to leave for years, and that’s all you can come up with?” Sloan asked through gritted teeth. Koen nudged her and muttered, “Be nice,” to which she responded, “I’m so nice!”
Aspen didn’t take offense. “I’ve had about as much luck as any human. Half-bloods are trapped, too.”
Objectively, half-bloods did sometimes have difficult lives. They were scorned for impure blood and often, they were unwanted by their human mothers or cast out by vampire mothers for being mistakes. They were the result of bad choices and bad pairings.
I resisted the urge to cover my stomach with my arm. I was going to be the mother of Cirillo’s spawn. I had no connection to the thing growing inside me, and even if I hated it, I would never subject anyone to this place.
I looked Aspen up and down. It was impossible to tell his age, but he couldn’t have been more than twenty-five; he seemed too lively to be anything older than thirty. He was taller than Koen and dressed in nondescript brown clothing, shunning the red and blue of Bloodfrost. The covens valued their insignias and colors. It was a betrayal not to wear them.
“I’ll be your cover.” Aspen was pitching himself. “If anyone—”
“I trust you.”
Aspen beamed in delight. Koen grinned with pride. Sloan looked like she was warring among several emotions, adding up to a pained expression.
“I won’t let you down,” Aspen began but stopped when he found my scythe blade at his throat.
“You better not.” My voice rasped. I cleared it, sharpening it with fear and anger and desperation. “Get me far, far away—us,” I added, feeling the Blackwood siblings’ judgment on my back. “Save us from this Death-forsaken place.”
Aspen didn’t back down. He nodded solemnly. “I promise, Maer Whisler.” His eyes flicked down, and terror sluiced through me. Does he know? Could he figure it out from the crack in my voice? Then he met my gaze again as if it didn’t happen; he gave nothing away. “I’ll even get those irons off you.
“But later,” he said with sudden urgency as commotion came closer. “Stay here. I’ll get the horse and carriage.”
Koen, Sloan, and I all barked, “What?”
“Wait here?!”
“In the open?”
“They’ll find us before you get halfway there!”
“Not if you shh,” Aspen advised with a pointed glare. I didn’t know if it was good or bad, but I didn’t feel threatened by him. “Would you feel better if you were on the roof?”
“I’m not good with heights,” the three of us chorused. Sloan and I glared at each other while Koen and Aspen looked amused.
“Suit yourselves. I’ll be quick, promise.”
Then he flitted off in a blink.
I hit my back against the building wall and sank down into the overgrown grass, setting my new favorite weapon beside me even though it was like taking off armor in the middle of a battle. I was so exhausted.
A carriage would be a far better alternative to a saddle, I thought tiredly. Just come quickly, Aspen of Anywhere-but-Sanlow. I hate to admit it, but you’re our final hope.
Sloan crouched in front of me. I braced myself for another scathing remark. I didn’t really have anything against her, but I had no idea why she hated me so much when we’d only met for the first time at the Revelry.
“I don’t hate you, you know,” she said.
I snorted. “Your tone and expression say otherwise,” I told her wryly.
She gritted her teeth and opened her mouth, but Koen nudged her with a knee. “Don’t do that. You’ll hurt your teeth.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she said without rancor. I wondered if that was what siblings did—bantering and being mean to each other but not meaning a word of it. “I just don’t like what you did to my brother.”
“Hey!” Koen protested, nudging her again so she lost her balance.
I stared between them, interest piqued. “What?”
“I already told her that I liked her,” he said as if I suddenly wasn’t there, “if that’s what you plan to use against me!”
My heart lurched as Koen’s words from under the arena returned to the forefront of my mind. “I admire you. Nothing’s going to make me like you less.”
Sloan stood and crossed her arms at him. “It’s your crush that got us into this mess in the first place.”
My blood ran cold. “What does that mean?”
Koen flinched, but chaos erupted before he could get a word out—people shouting, horses baying, their hooves pounding against stone, and the clatter of carriage wheels.
I swatted Koen’s hand away when he extended it and used the scythe pole to haul myself up. Sloan snatched up her knife from where she’d dropped it—and looped her free arm through mine, keeping me upright and at their pace. I was angry at both of them now but didn’t protest as we squeezed through the alley, getting the first view of the commotion.
Aspen yanked the black horses’ reins just a few feet away as half-bloods and humans swarmed him. He was armed with two swords and leapt from the driver’s seat to engage the crowd with impressive speed and force. It was immediately obvious that he was expertly trained, disarming, knocking out, or impaling opponents like it was just another day.
Suspicion squirmed in my gut. Who was this half-blood? Was I right to trust him?
There was no time to wonder.
With the crowd successfully distracted, the Blackwoods and I made a mad dash—freaking ow—for the carriage. Sloan and I threw ourselves through the door—which didn’t have a sigil and was barely wide enough to get my scythe through—into the covered cabin while Koen jumped onto the driver’s bench. Without waiting for Aspen, he lashed the reins to set the horses in motion. They reared and broke into a run.
“Stop them!” someone roared.
Suddenly, the door was wrenched open on Sloan’s side. She screamed as a half-blood sprinted alongside the carriage and jumped onto the step, reaching for her—
Then he yelped when she stabbed her knife into his neck. Blood spurted as he fell back and was left in the dust.
Sloan whipped around to stare at me wildly. “I’ve never stabbed anyone before. Blood—there’s blood on my face.”
I sighed, praying for patience. “Please tell me you’re tougher than this, Sloan.”
She glared. “Just wait until you see me in my element.”
Another body launched itself onto the side of the carriage. This time, I screamed with Sloan.
“Hey now,” Aspen protested, “I have sensitive ears.”
Our new companion slid in next to Sloan and yanked the door closed. He leaned forward and called to Koen, “Hard left! Southward to the edge of Sanlow!”
