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IT WAS SURREAL TO HEAR the history of the only place I had ever known—or barely knew, apparently. I had no idea there was a fifth coven, much less that there had been migrations from their homelands—which was a terrifying prospect to consider. There were more vampires than those in Sanlow?
And who—or what—had driven them out from Dawnhaven?
I watched my companions, unable to disregard my faint amusement. Sloan’s half-horrified, half-perturbed expression proved that she was as unnerved as I was; Aspen, the avid historian, looked like he was about to be gifted an immeasurable sum of money; Maer had schooled her face into neutrality as if the knowledge didn’t matter one way or another.
But it was just a farce. Fear sparked in her eyes the moment Vidar named her coven. Her arm twitched against mine; she was resisting touching her stomach. She had a direct connection to the vampire who murdered an entire coven from those that were now offering us shelter. If any of these half-bloods found out that a member of the Kaladin bloodline was using their resources, their current kindness would run out fast, no matter what they said about leaving pasts behind.
I rested my hand over Maer’s, my amusement withering. With all the eyes on us to judge suspicious movements, she didn’t flinch. I had to change the subject for her sake. “The water,” I said as Aspen leaned forward excitedly to ask a question, feeling bad for cutting him off, “it healed us.”
There was a soft mixture of chuckles and murmurs from the gathered half-bloods. I wasn’t one to feel self-conscious by a crowd—Gladiating for almost ten years had numbed that sensation—but my spine still prickled. They were the kinds of chuckles that meant they knew something we didn’t and found our obliviousness humorous.
What I wasn’t numb to was anger. We’d all been humiliated for most of our lives. I didn’t realize until now that I thought we had escaped it. Apparently not.
Leysa had started to smile with her comrades, but when we met eyes, her expression hardened. “Stop that, all of you,” she snarled.
Like a candle being snuffed, the crowd silenced.
“I’m sorry,” the leader murmured. “Lack of knowledge should never be something to degrade.” Raising her voice again, she said, “We are all familiar with ostracization, no? Surely it’s hard to forget. We honor respect here.”
Leysa rose to her feet and padded over. “I’m happy to answer all of your questions. Let’s go somewhere more private.”
I felt relief flash off my companions—no, they were friends, I decided—as I helped Maer up to follow Leysa through another dark archway into a large, empty antechamber furnished with rugs, beds, and even tables and chairs. Leysa gestured for us to sit as she procured a teapot and cups.
“Ophir didn’t settle here for nothing,” she said wryly, pouring us a cup of steaming liquid each. “Desert blossom tea.” Then she lounged in the final chair, eyeing us with faint delight. “Ask away.”
Maer, uninterested in tea, demanded, “The water.”
“The River Jehona is ancient. Many creatures have used its resources.” Leysa leaned forward, the corner of her mouth quirking. “It’s ensorcelled.”
We glanced at each other in confusion. Even Aspen was confused by the word.
“Huh.” Leysa sat back, clearly disappointed. “I expected a more dramatic reaction. You know the anti-cross circles on the bridges, don’t you?”
My friends and I nodded.
“They’re spelled.”
Aspen’s eyes flashed with understanding—or at least, the bare minimum knowledge of that word. “Spelled? By what?”
“By who,” Leysa corrected, enthused again. “What happened in the past fifty years? It’s like they’ve become a secret.”
“What has?” Maer snapped impatiently. “Who has?”
Leysa narrowed her eyes and hissed, but more to herself than Maer. “Those haughty monsters love to hide their tracks. They’ve erased all traces of those who helped them.”
“Tell us!”
Leysa’s gaze looked Maer critically up and down, but her voice was kind. “You wanted to have your child on vampire-free land; that’s why you wanted to leave.” Maer’s eyes widened in speechlessness. Leysa looked at me. “You just wanted to follow her.” To Sloan: “You didn’t want to leave.” To Aspen: “You’re fleeing from someone. You also—aw, that’s sweet—want to be an adventurer.”
Stunned silence followed her quickfire observations. How did she—
Leysa suddenly looked away and crossed her arms. “I fled someone, too. Tanith is my half-sister.”
Tanith Taran, the Serpent Queen, leader of the Elarian coven, the most ruthless, bloodthirsty vampire in all of Sanlow—it was a proven fact.
Next to me, Aspen shifted in his seat. Who was he running from?
On my other side, Sloan was glaring daggers at me.
I met them unflinchingly. “I’m sorry, Sloan.”
“I saw her, too,” she said fiercely, shooting a look at Maer. “The Moros healer. My vision went blue.”
Maer and I gaped. Aspen pouted and muttered, “So I’m the only one who didn’t?”
Before I could open my mouth, Leysa turned back and looked between us with sudden urgency. “Moros healer? Who is she? What did she say to you?”
The four of us exchanged glances again. An odd, unspoken conversation passed through the looks.
I faced the Kairos leader. “We would like a moment to ourselves, please.”
Aware that she was outnumbered, Leysa nodded, though begrudgingly. She got up and padded out of the room.
We all spoke at once.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I asked Sloan.
“Why did you just tell her that?” Maer hissed.
“We can’t trust anything she says,” Sloan snapped. “She’s Tanith’s sister.”
“We have to tell her what we know,” insisted Aspen, “then she’ll tell us what she knows.”
There was a beat of silence, and then Sloan answered me defensively, “Because I was afraid of what it meant.” To Maer, she barked, “Because I didn’t think. She made me mad. She can read minds, I’m sure of it.”
“But she left Elarian,” Aspen pointed out reasonably, tucking his damp hair—everyone’s hair was still wet—behind an ear whose lobe was pierced without an earring—he’d removed the typical bone that most Bloodfrost vampires wore. “That tie is why. It’s rare that half-bloods have a pureblood power, but she has one. I don’t think it’s reading minds, though.”
Maer’s eyes narrowed on Aspen. “You’re awfully fidgety. Who are you fleeing from?”
He swallowed hard, suddenly not keen on speaking freely, until the girls’ stares made him cave. “Promise you won’t hate me?” he whispered.
“Promise,” I said immediately. It didn’t surprise me that Maer and Sloan didn’t. I sighed and appeased, “We need to learn to trust each other. I know it’s hard, but this is the way to start.”
They simmered in their own thoughts, even glancing at each other as if confirming they were thinking the same thing, and then nodded.
“We all have secrets,” Maer muttered, stopping herself from putting a hand over her stomach.
Sloan’s expression had softened. For the first time since dressing up for the Revelry, I finally saw the real Sloan: kind, understanding, and confident. I never thought I’d see that look reserved for anyone but me and anxious patients. “You saved our lives. I’m not too proud to admit my thanks for that. Even if I didn’t want to in the first place,” she added pointedly toward me.
I let the jab pass over my head. I dipped my head to Aspen. “Reveal all, friend.”
His appearance—bright eyes, sharp angles, and even sharper teeth—didn’t align with his easily excitable nature. Despite not knowing a lick about him, there was just something trustworthy about him.
But that planted a seed of doubt. What if he had an ability, too?
I pushed that aside. It’s fine, I told myself. No one leaves Sanlow unless it’s the only thing they want with their entire soul, remember?
Aspen inhaled deeply. On the exhale, he braced himself and said, “My real name is Arik.”
The girls and I blinked. “Oh. Okay.”
He looked as surprised as Leysa had when we failed to meet her expectations. “You don’t...recognize that name?”
Sloan and I shook our heads. “No. Should we?”
Then he looked bitter. “I suppose not.”
“Are you someone’s half-sibling or something?” Maer asked.
“Yes. No one important. Still call me Aspen.” He paused, then sighed, “I’m running from my mom. She probably doesn’t know I left.”
Maer snorted. “I know how that feels.”
I tried to catch Maer’s eye, but she was watching the ground. “Your mother—”
“Hates me. I wasn’t planned. I was just a mouth to feed that ended up earning more money to feed hers. Dad died Gladiating. No siblings. Estranged from other family. So I don’t have anyone to miss and no one to miss me.”
My heart ached for my friends. Their sadness, however they tried to hide it behind stone walls, was palpable.
“What about you two?” Aspen asked gently.
“Our parents died eight years ago.” Sloan tentatively sipped her tea, which tempted the three of us to do so. “We have estranged family, too, but many friends. I am—I...I was—an apprenticed Medic. I was going to inherit the senior Medic’s apothecary. This tea needs honey.”
I was no expert on tea, but the desert blossom was tasty—but an acquired taste for sure. I much preferred ale. Maer wrinkled her nose at the grainy feel on the tongue, and Aspen barely took a sip before making a face. It made me wonder just how much human food a half-blood could tolerate.
“Let’s focus on a happier side,” I suggested. “What do we plan to do with our newfound freedom?”
“Travel,” Aspen said, immediately enthusiastic. His good mood was infectious; it made the girls crack a smile. “The books I’ve read describe some of the world outside Sanlow, and I want to see it for myself. And what Leysa said—there are origins to be explored. Homelands and whatever Dawnhaven was—and maybe discover what drove my ancestors out. What about you, Koen?”
Unprepared to be put on the spot, I shrugged. “Haven’t gotten that far yet.” I glanced up at Maer, who was studiously studying scratches in the wood table. I wondered if she was blaming herself for taking me away from everything I knew. “But I’m open to anything. Maer?”
“We all know I just want to have this bastard child somewhere safe,” she muttered without looking up.
My chest panged. She definitely blamed something on herself. I wanted to ask her who the father was, but that was the last thing she would ever reveal. I wanted to ask her a lot of questions, actually.
There was an awkward silence as Sloan’s answer was just a shrug. I glanced at Aspen, who seemed at a loss for how to cheer up the girls. Then an idea sparked in his eyes.
“Can we talk about how you beheaded that half-blood?”
Maer’s head shot up and she glared at Aspen. “You saw that?”
Sloan was wide-eyed, too. “You’re okay with that? You’re a half-blood.”
Aspen shrugged. “That title doesn’t make us all grieve for one another. It was self-defense. It was...” He hesitated. “It gave me...hope.”
Our jaws hit the floor. “Why?” I gasped.
“My father was human,” Aspen replied, eyes and tone abruptly cold. “And I hated the way he was treated. I hated the way any human was treated—the way I was treated, too. Every pureblood vampire thinks they’re kings of the world, better than anyone considered lesser. Killing that half-blood gave me hope that purebloods could be killed, too. Not only am I looking for answers to the past, but also...”
Aspen curled his lip, baring his fangs, as he was lost in his own thoughts. A chill ran down my spine when he hissed, “I want revenge.”
“You three are very interesting specimens.”
Leysa’s voice from the entryway made us all jump. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed and lips curved in a smile. Her eyes were bright with excitement. “If it’s killing vampires you want, then I have the opportunity of a lifetime to present.”
