Page 25 of A Betrothal So Bloody

I give him a dismissive scoff, but can’t deny his words give me pause. Quite a short leash given by his “father”. Blessed with unthinkable power, only to be imprisoned in the City of Canals. It’s almost pitiful—though I suppose it explains his knowledge gaps when it comes to vampiric history.

“All this effort,” I go on, lightening some of the hostility in my voice. “And you don’t even know if you’ll survive reverting to mortality. For all you know, the cure may reduce you to ash and bone once human again.”

“A very pleasant thought,” Dante drawls, shooting me a look. “I can see why your Order was keen to get rid of you. But if that happens, I suppose there’s no glory for you, is there? Pity.”

“I imagine it’s still enough to earn me a nice, gilded portrait in the legacy hall. Your bones will offset the bloodred roses I’ll drape at the corners quite nicely.”

To my surprise, he smirks, stifling a laugh at this. “What charming aspirations to lose your soul over. A painting and some flowers.”

I glower at him. “Go fuck yourself.”

A monster like him could never understand the meaning of being honored like that—the legacy I would leave by cleansing the world with honor and courage.

We ride in silence for a beat, the air whipping around us. There’s this thrilling rise in my chest when I look at the horizon, where the star-flecked sky touches the earth. A wild sort of exhilaration takes root in me, being so far from the abbey, riding alongside one of the most dangerous creatures in the world. Holding his fate in my hands.

“Would you miss any of it?” I call over. I’m genuinely curious, but I’d be equally pleased if my question just irritates him further. “Say we do find this cure, and you’re human again.”

“What, being practically enslaved to someone else’s will? Never seeing the sun?” Dante sneers.

“No, I mean…the other things.” I gesture vaguely with a wave of one hand.

He mulls it over. “I’d miss the power. Being able to do whatever the fuck I want… But it’s worth trading for a life actually worth living.”

I shut up for a long while after that, because for once, I agree with him.

nine

The road is quiet and free of other travelers, much to my relief. I suppose I have the ungodly hour to thank for that. The path twists this way and that, becoming more rugged as we proceed into a patch of woodlands that thicken on either side of us.

I insist that we stray for a moment when I hear a trickle of water. It isn’t long before we find a creek winding between the trees—an opportunity to let the horses have a drink before our last stretch into the next village.

“We only have four hours of moonlight left,” Dante says tersely, pacing back and forth between the trees while the horses have their fill. “We’ll need a roof over our heads for the day. Welcome to nocturnal life.” He smiles sharply as though any discomfort I might feel will alleviate his own.

With a shrug, I run a hand along my horse’s flank. “I’ll adjust. I’ve practiced a nocturnal schedule for weeks on end many times. In order to fight creatures of the night, one must familiarize herself with darkness. Know thine enemy and all.”

An equally wicked smirk tugs up the corners of my lips, and he rolls his eyes. “A perfect little student, are you?” he drawls. “I don’t suppose you’ll be shutting up about that in a hurry.”

On the other side of the creek, a shiver in the underbrush interrupts my retort. I tense and search for the disturbance, trying to calm myself. Of course there are animals in the woods. No need to make a fuss. We’ll be on our way shortly.

But my stomach drops when I hear Dante’s sharp intake of breath. His head snaps in the direction of the sound.

A hulking figure lumbers from between the bushes. Recognition catches up with the fear drenching me—an enormous brown bear is snuffling at the creek bed directly across from us.

“Shit,” Dante mutters. He seems to have the same idea as me—backing away slowly and reaching for the dagger sheathed on his belt. I hold onto a tiny seed of hope that the beast will move on, more interested in foraging than perceiving us as threats.

“Talk it down,” I hiss. “Sway it to leave peacefully.”

Dante’s eyes cut toward me and narrow—affronted that I know another one of his kin’s tricks. Even fledging vampires have the capacity to sway simple animal minds, typically rodents or even wolves.

“I can’t,” he grits.

“You’re joking. Is there anything you can do?”

“Rip you open and offer to share you with our friend here, perhaps.” He huffs at my enraged scowl. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m malnourished. I could barely keep you asleep for a few minutes. And even on my best day, puppeteering a rat is a bit different than a fucking bear.”

The bear raises its nose from the ground, sniffing curiously in our direction. Its front paws tread slowly into the water. Perhaps it would have lost interest—if it weren’t for the skittishness of horses.

The beast’s approaching presence is finally too much for them. My horse gives a frightened whinny and bolts, nearly trampling me in the process, and Dante’s is startled into following suit.