Zander
“Seven tributaries.”
“Six. The female from Freywich is not an option.”
The glare I get from Abarrane promises harsh words later. “Six tributaries for nineteen of us—twenty-one, if we include His Highness and Elisaf.” She shakes her head. “Feedings are no more than once a week for now, but when we are deep within the range, each legionary will be allowed to take the vein once every second week, unless injured.”
“Twice a month,” Jarek echoes from his seat in the weapons wagon we’ve converted into a makeshift meeting room. His pursed lips reveal his doubt. “When we need to be at our strongest, fending off saplings and whatever other beasts lurk in there that the caster will surely draw out?”
He’s not wrong about that concern, but it’s not Gesine’s affinities I’m worried about. She’s nothing more than a firefly compared to the beacon that is Romeria. Any Nulling creature within range will find us.
“We cannot risk any of these mortals falling to illness because they are too weak,” Abarrane counters.
“Perhaps it would be prudent to find more on our travels north, then.” Jarek’s tone is calm and respectful, but there is an underlying challenge that says he knows he’s right.
“Yes. More like that imbecile we’re now saddled with?” she snaps.
I sit back and listen to them argue over the mortals as if they’re nothing more than rations to be divvied up. This is at the very essence of our blood curse. Romeria would be horrified to listen.
“May I remind you that the reason I must hear that idiot prattle on incessantly is because someone saw a row of scantily clad women on a balcony and couldn’t keep his fangs in or his pants on? Did you honestly think I would not put two and two together?” Abarrane shakes her head. “Only a fool would take that sort of risk.”
Jarek smirks, her rebuke sliding off his arrogant shoulders without a hint of ruffling his ego. “It was ten minutes, and I assumed I was leaving Romeria with someone capable of controlling her brash impulses.” His eyes cut to Elisaf. “It seems I was wrong.”
I bite my tongue against the urge to answer for my friend and guard. According to Abarrane, I have a bad habit of defending Elisaf before he has a chance to defend himself. In this case, she is right. The Legion won’t grant him the admiration he deserves if I’m constantly sheltering him.
Besides, he is more than capable of handling himself.
A small smile curls Elisaf’s lips. “And after spending days on horseback with Her Highness, I assumed someone would be intelligent enough to see that there is no controlling Romeria. But it seems I was wrong.”
Jarek’s molars grind. He’ll see that as a confrontation, hopefully not one he’s stupid enough to act on because then I will step in, and it will be with the sharp point of my blade.
I temper my anger over their bickering. Yelling will achieve nothing. “I can attest to Elisaf’s claim, but we are not here to discuss Romeria’s stubbornness, and the idea of bringing more mortals with us , when we may struggle to keep those currently present alive, is pure folly. We need to move beyond Bellcross and consider what lies ahead.” I tap on the map Rengard supplied, unfurled in the center of the wagon. “It is another five days to the caves. According to Rengard, an uprising is already upon us, having started months ago and growing steadily. Any one of the villages along this corridor could be a breeding ground for Ybaris’s poison. For our sake, we must assume all of them are. Which means there is to be no feeding on anyone, no matter how tempting or innocent they appear. Make that very clear.”
“Aye.” Abarrane spears Jarek with a glare.
“Now … Norcaster is a day’s travel from here.” I point to the influential town at the mouth of the mountain corridor. “It may provide valuable insight about where the Ybarisans are and how they are distributing these vials. For all we know, Ybarisans are hiding there, aided by the mortals.”
“That is more probable in Woodswich, where there is no elven oversight,” Elisaf says.
“Likely, yes, but I will not discount that it has migrated south. We will camp a safe distance from Norcaster’s wall and venture in to gather any information we can.”
“It is best I bow out of that excursion. My presence might draw too much attention,” Jarek says, earning Abarrane’s chuckle. Clearly there was an altercation the last time he was there.
“That is fine. You will ensure Romeria is safe within the camp.”
“Second-in-command, and I am relegated to guard duties?”
I match his glower. “You are protecting our future. I should think that a noble cause.”
Jarek opens his mouth but decides against speaking his thoughts, answering with a firm nod instead.
“Is it wise to spend the extra time in Norcaster when we know Telor is marching through the eastern pass?” Elisaf draws a finger along the corridor that Lyndel’s army will use, the only way through, short of going south around the mountain range. “Would it not be safer to push ahead to avoid a confrontation? He will not venture this way without at least five hundred men or more.”
“He is coming with a thousand. We cannot afford a confrontation with them,” I agree. “We must get to the mountains first and prepare for their arrival, because they will march north for us and the Ybarisans. I must find a way to reach Lord Telor and prove to him that I am not the conspirator Atticus has painted me to be.”
Telor has always been a staunch supporter of my family, but he’s also a leader I could sit with and discuss a future for Islor that did not allow lords like Adley to benefit from mortal suffering.
I just don’t know if he’ll listen to me anymore.