TRADERS

It took only thirty-five minutes after leaving Elouve’s city gates for Remy to begin complaining.

This was all absolutely, objectively Malekh’s fault. Remy had been misled into believing that the journey would be undertaken with horses, perhaps with some other more luxurious transport if Xiaodan preferred a more comfortable means of travel. He had not been prepared for the two monstrosities that were currently whinnying and pawing their hooves before him.

They were horses. Or rather, they used to be horses. They were now skeletons with skin stretched tautly over them and had neither muscle nor fat to pad what should have lain between. They were coal black from mane to tail, their eyes a glowing red. Despite their emaciated features, they were massive in height, and Remy would not have relished the idea of encountering any one of these creatures in some lonely wood.

One of the horses had only three legs. From the way it was prancing about, the shortage was not an issue.

Xiaodan fussed over the demon horses like they were the fashionable lapdogs favored by some of the noblewomen in the capital, rather than the terrifying wraiths that they were. The devil steeds were also hitched to the carriage they were to use for their journey.

“I suppose Zidan and I could reach Chànggē Shuĭ on foot in the space of a day, instead of the weeks it would take humans on horses,” Xiaodan said. “But I’m not quite recovered yet, and Ophelia did gift Zidan some new medical apparatuses. They’re delicate and too cumbersome to carry on our own.”

“You misunderstand me,” Remy said. “That’s not the part that I find most worrying. The bloody hell are those?”

“Zidan calls them helhests. I call them Peanut and Cookie.”

“Peanut,” Remy repeated, feeling a little detached from the situation for a moment. “And Cookie.”

“They’re the swiftest things on four legs—and three—in all the kingdoms. They’d be even faster if they weren’t dragging us along. We could reach Qing-ye in a week’s time if we rode straight through with the carriage. But we’ll head to Ankersaud first, then go east, so it may take longer.”

Had these helhests been stabled inside the capital, it would likely have caused an international incident. Remy should have been suspicious when Xiaodan had admitted that the mounts they were to ride were stabled outside of Elouve, at some isolated farmstead tucked away five miles out. The woman who owned the place, a human woman named Mari, assured Remy that the horses were fairly docile, and that Lord Malekh had purchased some sheep or pig from her to serve as the horses’ meal during their stay.

“And they’re not forcing you to do this?” Remy persisted, because a sheep’s price didn’t seem like it was worth the headache of stabling demons.

“The lord and the lady saved me a time or two in the past,” Mari said cheerfully. “And why, they’re good horses, if you look past their appearances. Quite fond of their lumps of sugar, though Lord Malekh was adamant about not feeding them more than two a day.”

“It’s not—it’s unusual to find someone living so close to Elouve helping Court nobles.”

The woman stared at him, confused. “But you’re doing the same thing, aren’t you, Armiger? Helping them, I mean.”

Remy supposed she had a point.

One of the hell horses neighed at him, revealing a pair of perfectly formed fangs as it did.

“I think he likes you,” Xiaodan said with every show of sincerity. “They’re gentle, you know.”

“How did you even find these creatures?” Remy choked.

“It was all Zidan’s doing.”

“He bit them?” It was bad enough turning humans, but if Malekh was going about forcing innocent horses into undead mounts, that was a line Remy didn’t even know could be drawn, much less crossed.

Xiaodan burst into laughter. “Most mammals rarely survive any bloodletting from us. Inoculating them with a weaker strain of our blood was the best option we could think of. Zidan invented something to boost their immunity, to give them a limited version of our strengths. They’re powerful enough to withstand hours of direct sunlight, and they’re twenty times stronger than your average wild horse. They do require some blood every now and then for sustenance, but the rest isn’t all that different from caring for regular steeds. I’m afraid the stallion you brought won’t quite be able to keep up with them. Perhaps you could leave it with Miss Mari? It might raise more questions if you bring it back to Elouve.”

Remy hesitated, looking over at his horse.

Malekh smirked. “Considering that we’ve let you accompany us, helhests are manageable in comparison.”

Maybe it was the shock of realizing actual vampire horses were possible, or maybe because Remy had been in a bad enough mood all morning that he was itching for a fight. Malekh had certainly been ready to accommodate on the latter, so he didn’t see why he shouldn’t take the undead arsewit up on his offer. Remy was already moving, fists raised, and was pleased to see the vampire meeting him halfway when Xiaodan glided firmly in between them again, crossing her arms and sending her most intimidating scowl their way.

“We will have none of this again,” she said firmly. “We haven’t even started, and you’re already at loggerheads with each other. If this is what the rest of our travels shall be like, I will be very displeased. Remy, it would do you a world of good if you stop both jumping to conclusions and assuming the worst of Zidan. Zidan, explaining would have been easier than antagonizing him.”

“An explanation?” Remy asked. “What possible reason could there be to turn two helpless animals into the undead?”

“Because they were already dying.” One of the helhests whinnied happily into Xiaodan’s palm. “They’d been crippled and abused, bound for the slaughterhouse. I rescued them like the soft fool that I am, but they were in bad enough shape that they would’ve been doomed to a life of suffering anyway, until Zidan proposed an alternative.”

“You mean he just happened to have some vampire potion lying about that—”

“It was a restorative originally intended for Xiaodan’s heart,” Malekh broke in. “I modified it for the horses to take in smaller doses. As it was synthesized using vampire blood, the effects are as you see them now. It’s not a serum I would offer to anyone, man or beast, had it not been a final option. They were in pain, and Xiaodan refused to let them be any longer.”

From their point of view, they’d have considered that better than death. Remy would have been inclined to put the horses out of their misery, as painlessly as possible—but the funny thing about vampires was that they didn’t see being undead as a curse.

“Now do you understand?” Xiaodan pleaded. “And will you both behave until we get to Ankersaud? I’d rather not have to stop every hour or so just to yell at you two to get along.”

Remy and Malekh glanced at each other—an unspoken, grudging agreement. “I can leave my horse with Miss Mari,” Remy relented. “But you do know that people more unsavory than I am would kill to get their hands on such a serum.”

“Only I know the process of creating it,” Malekh said, the arrogant git. “And I would carry it to my eventual grave before I would ever teach a human its secrets.”

“Miracle of miracles,” Remy said sourly, “we’re finally in accord. Still would have appreciated a bloody heads-up beforehand. Some humans would consider this a dealbreaker.”

Xiaodan folded her hands behind her back, looked him straight in the eye and said, with a disarming sort of embarrassment, “I didn’t realize it was something you would feel so strongly about. I’ll do better next time.”

“Next time?”

From behind her, Malekh smirked again, because the bastard had guessed at what his reaction to the helhests would be even if she hadn’t, and Remy was back to wishing he could have stuck Breaker into him before Xiaodan had intervened.

He had little time to think for at least an hour after that, gripping tightly at the armrest beside him. Outside the carriage, scenery fled past, far too swiftly to appreciate whatever view they might have offered, because holy hell of a fucking Light, these helhests were fast.

He must have said it out loud—shouted it, probably, because the clatter of the carriage wheels (no doubt modified to keep the whole coach from rattling apart) and the whistling of the wind was far too loud to attempt a normal conversation—because Xiaodan let out a rather pleased cackle and yelled back, “I know, aren’t they grand?” at him. The beasts continued their inhuman pace at breakneck speed, and then there was even less talk after that. Malekh had taken up the reins outside the carriage. Xiaodan simply settled into her seat and entered some odd fugue state of suspended animation, asleep yet somehow not asleep, while it was all Remy could do not to be jolted about in his seat, one foot already braced against the wall of the carriage to avoid pitching forward.

By the time the carriage slowed to a stop near a village, he was almost certain vital gray matter had leaked out his head through his ears, and that he’d dropped the rest of his wits some thirty miles back. Remy staggered out of the coach and spent a few minutes trying to regain his sense of balance and gravity, which mostly consisted of clinging to the nearest tree trunk until the urge to throw up had passed, trying to ascertain if his senses were still about or if he’d somehow lost them during the ride, too.

“Light,” he croaked, once he’d gotten his tongue to work.

“It can take a while to get used to them,” Xiaodan said apologetically.

“Not certain I want to.” The equine anomalies responsible for his predicament were standing placidly off to the side, pretending to graze. Remy spotted the telltale smokestacks from a distance, confirming that there was a good-sized town up ahead, though they’d been prudent enough to disembark some distance away before they could be seen. Two vampires were enough to make anyone nervous, even without throwing their blood-drinking skeletal undead horses into the mix.

He tried to work out where they were. “Is this Halrayett?”

“No.” Malekh had emerged from his side of the carriage. He was tying both undead stallions to one of the trees, though Remy doubted there was anyone around willing to go near the beasts, much less steal them. “This is the village of Ankersaud.”

“That’s not right. Halrayett is the closest village to the capital. We won’t be reaching Ankersaud for another six hours, at least.”

Xiaodan was laughing again. “Peanut and Cookie wouldn’t have scared you this whole time only for us to have barely made our way out of Elouve at this point.”

“I wasn’t frightened. That’s not the same as wanting to hurl—” And then he froze. “That’s impossible. It hasn’t even been an hour since we’d—”

No. Not impossible. Not if the fucking demon horses from hell were pulling your carriage at a speed faster than lightning could shoot up your piss stream.

“They’re called helhests,” Xiaodan insisted, because apparently Remy let out the long stream of curses aloud again.

---

THEY WERE right. (Remy really, really didn’t like it when they were right, especially Malekh.) Halrayett was a small village with a five-room inn and stable, with more cows and sheep than there were people. This was a bigger town than that, one of the kingdom’s more visible northern outposts. No one familiar with Alurian geography could mistake one for the other, and the small wooden sign that said WELCOME TO ANKERSAUD hanging right above the gates was the first obvious clue.

“The helhests will be fine outside town,” Malekh said briskly. “Mari fed them well, so they won’t be hungry for another few days. Our contacts in Ankersaud should give us a quick summary of how things stand at the eastern border. We’ll spend another hour or so for any supplies you think we’ll need, Xiaodan, and then we’ll ride out again.”

Remy decided to stop thinking about estimating distances via human logic, because none of it mattered anymore, and instead followed the pair into town. Peanut and Cookie nickered merrily and watched them go.

Remy didn’t often stop at Ankersaud, preferring smaller hamlets and villages to spend the night. Ankersaud was popular enough to attract visitors from outside even Aluria, and both Xiaodan and Malekh seemed comfortable with the crowd as they weaved in and out of the busy streets, Remy close behind. They looked human enough not to stand out; that they were obviously nobility was much more difficult to hide. People hurriedly stepped out of their way, some even bobbing their heads awkwardly with a murmured “sir” or “madam” as they walked past. Remy concentrated on Xiaodan’s willowy figure as she glided through the throng, but occasionally he betrayed himself, his gaze straying to Malekh before he realized what he was doing.

It wasn’t fair for them both to be this attractive, he thought sourly; one was his ideal woman if she wasn’t spoken for, the other a Lightdamned shitpouch even if he was the best-looking man Remy had ever seen.

A brave street urchin attempted to pick Malekh’s pocket at one point; the vampire latched on to the boy’s wrist before his fingers could even graze the inner seam, hauling the thief up easily with one hand so they were at eye level. The waif gulped visibly, but Malekh simply reached into his other pocket, produced several pieces of copper, and transferred them to the street rat’s tattered coat.

“Pay more attention to whom you attempt to rob,” he said calmly. “This should be more than enough for you and your friends. Now, be off with you.” A firm nudge sent the young boy disappearing into the crowd.

“Isn’t he something else?” Xiaodan asked admiringly, watching her betrothed turn to another band of raggedy-looking children watching nearby who promptly dispersed from the force of his stare alone.

“He shouldn’t be playing with his food, is all I see here,” Remy muttered, earning a chuckle from her.

Their destination turned out to be Ankersaud’s central market, another reason for the town’s popularity. The place was a natural stopover for merchants arriving from the kingdom of Pai Lai that lay farther northwest, and everything appeared to be on sale here, from rarer crops like mangosteen and ginseng, to bolts of cloth dyed from prized mollusks native only to the region, to even the closely guarded yakkan fur and meat the Pai Laians farmed zealously on the Zarensha Steppes. Most of the stalls were draped in colorful fabrics designed to catch the eye, with rows upon rows of their wares arranged before them for customers to peruse. Hawkers announced the importance of their goods, beseeching passersby to linger and browse.

Malekh stopped before one of the gaudiest stalls—a confusing clash of colors was Remy’s initial impression, with tartans of orange, pink, and bright green hanging down its sides like curtains, embellished by gems so large they were clearly fakes littering the shelves and tables. The items on display were of the splashy kind that one might expect of souvenirs with no real value: stuffed cane toad decors, straw dolls wearing ridiculous hats, ceramic pots with poorly painted petunias on them, a drinking goblet that was for some reason shaped like a fish. Remy had no idea how the shop managed to stay in business, given the exorbitant prices it was asking for.

Sitting in front of the stall was an old man with a scowl and a crooked squint, stocky build wrapped in a shapeless white robe, as bare of accessories as his shop was drowning in them. He had a heavy cigar clamped between his teeth and gave a grunt in greeting when he spotted Malekh, but otherwise said nothing else.

The vampire noble crouched down, squatting beside the geezer. “Is Eugenie here?”

The old man took a heavy drag, nodded, and jerked a thumb toward the shop’s interior.

“Do we have customers, Paolo?” From within, an oyster-shell-encrusted drape was pulled back, and the woman that came bustling out was more in keeping with what Remy expected the stall’s proprietor to be. There were far too many ringlets in the lady’s hair and an improbably enormous hat made of some faux animal skin set jauntily on her head at a rakish angle. She wore a thick layer of rouge on her face and kohl slathered at her eyes, her face underneath papered white from powder. Her dress appeared to have the feathers of every known bird in existence sewn into the cloth, making her resemble an overdressed raptor herself.

“Why, Lord Malekh!” she called out, hands fluttering to her mouth. “And Lady Song! What an absolute dream! I presume that you were pleased with the last trinket you purchased from me? And all the trouble tracking it down when it left Cassamides!”

“It was invaluable, Eugenie. Fanciful work, as always. It’s one of the reasons we’re back.”

“Seeking more of my wares, then? Shall you stay longer for tea and crumpets? I just put on a fresh pot to brew, and it should be ready in three!” The woman gestured at them to hurry inside, and Remy heard the metallic clank of overhead hinges as the old man pulled the curtains closed behind them. It occurred to him then, that the walls of the small store were thicker than those of the other stalls. Anyone seeking to eavesdrop would find it difficult, especially with the old man outside serving as a guard.

“I’m afraid we’re in a hurry, Eugenie, as usual,” Malekh said politely, “so we’ll have nothing else but our standard, and anything you might have heard of Langsford and Priyahn.”

“Ooh, a rather interesting choice today, milord. Priyahn in particular is said to be crawling with more of this so-called Rot, though things are quieter at Langsford—oh!” She interrupted herself, looking at Remy. She looked shocked for a brief second, eyes flitting between him and Malekh, before her expression melted into one of delight. “And who might you be, you delicious little thing?”

“Ah.” All the etiquette ingrained in Remy had not prepared him for this. “My name is Remington Pendergast. I’m traveling with Lady Song and—”

“Oh, but you’re absolutely adorable!” A flock of colorful feathers descended upon him, and Remy found his cheeks being pinched like he was a five-year-old. “How scrumptious! I rarely see milord and milady travel with a companion, and a Pendergast, to boot! A hunter with vampires, who would’ve thought? My dear Lady Song, putting your alliance into practice!”

“You know who I am?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t be in this business if I didn’t know who the Pendergasts were, my dear. You were pointed out to me once before—you were quite young then, perhaps only thirteen summers. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. No one should have had to. It wasn’t right of your father, and I was glad to hear of you flourishing even after everything he brought down on you.”

“I didn’t realize people outside of the capital knew about it.” Remy was uncomfortably aware of the two pairs of eyes now trained on his back. Xiaodan would certainly be curious. And Malekh—he never really knew what Malekh thought.

Lady Song had researched his Reaper work yet had deliberately chosen not to look into his past. She didn’t know about what had happened to him during the Elouvian Siege. She could have, if she’d looked back past his record as a bounty hunter. That she hadn’t was… oddly comforting.

“Oh, they don’t. The few who know have been paid not to talk about it. Your human court took great pains to hide it from even the regular Elouvians. I know that neither Valenbonne nor Astonbury—may his soul be like fireflies at rest, whatever his sins were—speak much of it. Neither did King Beluske when he was alive. But it is my job to root out truth from falsehood—the latter, no doubt, gave rise to the belief that you are one of us. The esteemed lord and lady with you wouldn’t be visiting me if I wasn’t in the business to know, now, would they?”

“ ‘One of us’?” Remy echoed blankly, slow to catch on.

Eugenie grinned. Her fangs weren’t quite as pronounced as others he’d seen, but they were long enough to show that she, too, was kindred. “Alas, I am but a simple trader. Paolo and I try to survive as best we could, though we look forward to an alliance with the humans. That would be very good for us.”

“Eugenie,” Malekh said.

“Of course, of course. Mustn’t always talk shop.” Eugenie circled her trove of wares, finally selecting the fish goblet. “This would make a wonderful gift, milord,” she announced. “A one-of-a-kind item that you will no longer find hereabouts, crafted by some of the very best artisans from Longhi. At two thousand marks, it is practically a steal!”

“Two thousand?” Remy sputtered, staring at the hideous tankard.

Malekh didn’t even quibble over the price. “A considerable sum, Eugenie. A little more than what you usually have on offer.”

“Ah, but milord, you will be interested in the history surrounding this little nugget.” Eugenie leaned forward, looking serious now. “The news has already started to spread, and I do not doubt it shall reach Elouve before long. The village of Brushfen is gone, milord.”

“Gone? What do you mean?”

“Razed to the ground, ashes by the time dawn and help arrived. And before that—tales of horror. Accounts from what few survivors there were, of a horde of vampires that came rampaging through, crazed for blood. I took them in just an hour ago, tried my best to keep things quiet for their sakes, but already people are talking.”

“No,” Xiaodan said hoarsely. “A full coven? How?”

“The stories sound unbelievable, but each account I’ve heard so far corroborates the others. At least two dozen vampires, none suffering the frenzy. A calculated attack, and then the fires to hide their feeding.”

“Impossible.” Malekh said sharply. “There cannot be a vampire nest of that size within Aluria without Her Majesty or I knowing.”

“Your brother might know something,” Remy said.

Something close to anger crossed the noble’s face. “What do you imply, Pendergast?”

“The pack he ran with. Eight of them, all causing trouble near Elouve. They could have been part of this secret nest.”

“They’re delinquents who boasted more than they should have and paid the price for it. They lied about killing Lady Daneira. Naji can be foolish sometimes, but not enough to associate himself with murderers.”

“Those delinquents were dead set on killing me. That’s about as murderous as one can get. Maybe if you questioned your brother instead of making excuses constantly for his behavior, you’d know more.”

Malekh was slowly flexing his hand, like he was warming up to wrap it around Remy’s throat. Fury radiated off the man like heat through thin ice.

“Zidan,” Xiaodan said firmly. “You may be right, Remy. Naji’s at Chànggē Shuĭ, and we’ll have all the time to question him again once we return. Won’t we?”

Malekh’s fingers unclenched. “I want more details from him, yes. It is true that he is not entirely innocent in all this.”

“Until then, we must focus our search here. Eugenie, have there been any whispers of a secret nest in northern Aluria before?”

“If there is, even I am unaware of it. There has never been so much as a sighting in the past. The most likely possibility is that they are new to the area, milord, perhaps traveled here from the southeastern lands.”

“Southeast,” Xiaodan said, stricken. “That would be Qing-ye, then. Fourth Court territory. My territory.”

“I am sorry, milady. My witnesses swore that this particular coven fled quickly, at the first glimpse of dawn. A new clan of the freshly turned, it seems.”

“If they still fear the sunlight despite the heavy fog, then that is likely.”

“Can your witnesses offer up a description of any of the attackers?” Remy asked.

“Yes. One says that a vampire with short red hair and dark eyes proclaimed himself the leader of that particular pack just as the massacre began. It was he who gave the orders, shouted that the killing and the feeding be done before dawn. I can bring you to the survivors, if you wish.” Eugenie looked sad. “Only three of them, milord—a lad who was lucky enough to flee unseen before the bloodshed, and two children who hid under a pile of dead bodies and escaped detection. I did my best to be gentle with them, but they are not in good shape to be questioned. They’ve only just arrived at my safehouse. I hoped to give them privacy for a little longer.”

“I don’t intend to interrogate them,” Xiaodan said. “But I would like to see them all the same.”

“Paolo,” Eugenie called toward the shop’s entrance. The curtains twitched with an annoyed grunt in affirmation. “Take her ladyship to the hideaway.”

“Everything you require is here,” she added, holding out the fish goblet for Malekh to take. “I’ve added something extra for you, for always being such a lovely customer. An artist’s rendition of those responsible for Brushfen—a cruder depiction than usual. The young boys are not ready to be giving much detail, but the lad was a goldmine. He’d recognized a few of them from the night before, you see. Said they were asking him for directions to Keshlei, which had struck him as odd because they were in the wrong area for it. At least one had a peculiar tattoo striking enough to recognize—I’d rather not say it out loud, even here.

“I’ve sent a few scouts to the villages closest to Brushfen, should the nest attack there next. You can reach Brushfen itself quicker by going through the Wurkenbacht woods, though I must warn you that there have been fresh reports of creatures lurking within the forest, and that most travelers steer clear. I shall send word of any new developments. For an additional price, of course.”

“You are an absolute treasure, Eugenie.”

The feathered woman beamed with pride. “Just catch them that’s responsible, Lord Malekh. Rumors of impending vampire attacks can be good for business. But successful ones, quite the opposite.”

“So they’re both vampires?” Remy asked, after Eugenie had temporarily disappeared to the back of the stall to wrap up Malekh’s purchase. With Elke as the one exception, he’d never met any other kindred who’d fit in so well with the rest of the human population that no one appeared to be the wiser for it.

“Eugenie is. Paolo is not.” At Remy’s questioning look, Malekh shrugged. “She’s offered to turn him many times, but he always refuses her. He claims that the lifestyle isn’t for him.”

“He’s a familiar, then.”

“I suppose so.”

“Familiars are illegal in Aluria.”

“I’m certain they shall take that into consideration.”

“Aren’t they worried about discovery?”

“Most of the traders here are nomads. In a few weeks, she and Paolo will be gone. Don’t let Eugenie’s cheerful demeanor fool you. She is a savvy businesswoman, but she will kill without remorse if she needs to, if anything endangers her or Paolo. She is wise enough to learn her customers’ secrets to prevent them from exposing hers.”

“Does that mean she has something over you?”

“She knows I am as good as my word.”

Remy despised the way Malekh could answer a question without actually answering it. “She isn’t compelling her familiar to stay by her side by force?”

“You humans have a corrupted version of what a familiar is. Their relationship has always been consensual, as it should be.”

“That’s not what we’ve been told in stories.”

“I have heard of domestic arrangements in Aluria where men would beat their wives and the rest simply look away. Are you telling me, then, that one such example of poor behavior by humans is enough to denounce the rest for the same thing? There is more to vampires than just the feed.”

Remy wasn’t ready to acknowledge his point. “If you say it’s consensual, then I’ll believe you.”

“You, believing me, Pendergast?” The sudden smile on Malekh’s face was disconcerting. For once, it was not his usual acrid grimace of pessimism. It looked almost genuine. “There is nothing in these lands that Eugenie doesn’t know. They travel Aluria and beyond, move to where the rumors are thickest.”

“They’re not from the Third Court?”

“Some choose to remain unaffiliated with any court. It is a much more peaceful existence. But Eugenie is as eager to push for human and vampire coexistence as Xiaodan and I, which is why she gives me information at good rates.” Malekh picked up a cane toad to inspect. He looked fairly ridiculous holding it.

“Suits you,” Remy said.

“I can purchase one for you.”

“I’d rather fall on my scythes.”

Eugenie returned with his goblet, wrapped up in paper and twine that she laid carefully on the table before them, and then another replica of it that she set on the shelf as its replacement.

“I thought you said it was a one-of-a-kind souvenir,” Remy said.

“But it is, milord.” Eugenie winked at him. “Trust me, I’ve sold hundreds of these.”

“Mal—Lord Malekh said you know almost everything that happens within Aluria. How much would you charge for news of the Night Cou—”

“Ah ah ah,” Eugenie drawled, cutting him off. “We don’t do any such business in this place. We only sell unique novelties to enhance your living quarters, from the immodestly rich to the working class. Would you like a cane toad, perhaps? It always looks handsome atop mantelpieces, I’ve found.”

“No, thank you,” Remy said, repressing a small shudder at the sight of the stuffed frog. “I want everything you have of the First Court and the whereabouts of the Night Empress, in particular.”

“No,” Malekh snapped, before Eugenie could answer him. “You know they will kill him, Eugenie.”

“I can make my own decisions,” Remy snapped.

“Not where the Night Court is concerned.”

“Because you were once of the Night Court? Because you once killed for them? Or do you still do so?”

Malekh’s face was suddenly bereft of emotion, wiped off his face like a clean slate. But his nostrils flared, and his eyes… the sudden rage there, the pain.

Without another word, he turned and stalked out of Eugenie’s tent.

“Oh dear,” Eugenie said. “Oh dearie, dearie me. You shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not?” Remy asked, taken aback by the man’s reaction.

“Lady Song never told you? Malekh was once a member of the First Court, yes. But he did not come to it willingly. He was born in Agathyrsi, you know. At the height of their power, the Night King made their most frequent raids there, taking and turning slaves for their amusement.”

“I—” Remy stared at the stall’s exit. “I didn’t know,” he said weakly. His father likely hadn’t, either. He shouldn’t have relied solely on Edgar Pendergast’s assertions. Malekh always seemed so confident, so damn sure all the time that it hadn’t registered with him that the man could have been just as much a victim as his mother. “But wasn’t he a high-ranking—”

“That doesn’t mean much if survival is your only motivation, and Lord Malekh is quite good at surviving. The Eight Courts have their own varied personalities, but none so frightening or dangerous as the First. It’s not something he’d be fond of reminiscing over, I’m sure. I can do you no help in the matter, either. For all my sources, the Night Empress’s location continues to elude me. Very few of my confidants are willing to risk their lives to attract her notice.”

Remy swallowed. “I need to know, Lady Eugenie.”

Eugenie smiled kindly, worriedly. “First, the price to pay for such information would be hefty. Silver has been banned in Aluria for financial transactions, being the most expensive ore to find. The amount of silver that Breaker is made of would serve nicely for half my fee, but I suspect you would not be willing to part with it for anything I have to say.

“Second, I truly do have nothing to say. The only incident I’d ever heard linked to the Night Court was your mother’s death—and your own killing of one when you were new to the hunter’s cloak. Malekh is right to be worried about you. Perhaps that is the reason he and Xiaodan want you close by. Apologize, my dear. Make it up to him. I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

“—with a Valenbonne?” Remy heard the tail end of Paolo’s speech when he emerged from the tent. “You have done that family a great injustice, and him most of—”

The old man broke off when he spotted Remy, showed no inclination to apologize for talking about him, and only grunted. Malekh was staring down at the goblet in his hands, brow creased.

“Malekh,” Remy began, uncertain of where to start. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about—”

“The Ancients of the First Court were not known for commanding loyalty,” Zidan said abruptly. “They were known for forcing subservience. Vampires who have lived long enough often develop abilities beyond what humans know. The elders of the First Court could compel others to do their bidding, even against their will. Under their thrall, you could cut your own throat and die singing their praises with your last breath. All the easier to kill in their name.”

“Zidan, I—”

“Do you want more explicit details of my time at the Night Court, Pendergast, or are you able to read between the lines and glean from them the things I don’t say? Go on. Ask me your questions. What other crimes do you intend to lay at my door that I have not dwelt upon myself at every moment of my existence?”

Remy swallowed. “I have none to ask. I didn’t mean to—”

“We’re wasting time,” the noble said, cutting him off again. He no longer appeared angry, his eyes once again carefully muted ambers, his words low and quiet. “If we are to leave for the north before night comes, we’d best fetch Xiaodan now.”

“I—”

“We are going,” the vampire said, with such deadly finality that Remy, for once, shut up of his own accord.

“Just because he’s one of the undead,” Paolo grunted as they watched the noble leave, “doesn’t mean he hasn’t got demons ten times as old as you haunting his head, either.”

“I just want to know why my mother died,” Remy said.

“Your mother’s gone, child. But you’re not. Your life isn’t any less important than hers.” And then the old man tucked himself back into the corner of the stall, slammed his eyes shut, and grunted again to signal he was done with the conversation.

By the time Remy caught up to Zidan, he had already found Xiaodan sitting in front of a nondescript house some distance from the central plaza. A young boy was sitting in her lap, his eyes closed. She was rocking him back and forth, humming quick snatches of song. “His name is Osren,” she said softly, so as not to wake him. “Their house collapsed on him, but his mother’s body protected him from the worst of it.” She paused.

“His mother’s body,” she repeated, sounding choked. “When the news breaks throughout Elouve, everything we’ve done would have been all for nothing. Resentment and fear will rise again. We need to find out who’s responsible for this, Zidan. We cannot return until we have rooted out this vampire nest and destroy it before they can harm another village.”

“As you wish, my love.”

“Good.” Xiaodan looked at Remy. “I know this wasn’t part of what we promised, but we can’t ignore this incident. They could strike again.”

“You don’t need to ask.” Remy looked down at the sleeping child. “We’ll avenge them, if nothing else.”