The men shook their heads, Sandu seeming to hold back tears. "All my spare food was in Galen's packs." Cara took hold of his hand and held it tightly. We've each lost someone on this journey, she thought.
"And I didn't think we'd become so easily separated," Alex said. "We three fools indeed."
Loathe as she was to leave the fire, Cara said, "I should set a snare tonight; maybe we'll catch something for tomorrow."
"I'll stay here with him," Alex said. Cara nodded.
She had almost convinced herself to leave the fire's warmth when a cry rose from the swamp. She stilled, the hairs on her arms tingling. Sandu slapped his hands over his ears, and she heard the word "mist-folk" from his white lips.
"Not the mist-folk," she said, removing Sandu's hands and holding them. "Prowlers."
Alex straightened, listening intently. Another cry sounded, farther off, then silence. Cara reached for her sword, the familiar hilt comforting in her hand. "Do you have a weapon?" she asked as her eyes roved the darkness.
"Only a long dagger," Alex replied. "But I know how to use it."
"Good," Cara said. She squeezed Sandu's hand, then extricated herself from between the men. "You two stay here."
"Where are you going?" Alex asked the same moment Sandu exclaimed, "Don't leave me!"
Cara stooped to place a hand on Sandu's back. "It's alright. I won't be far, I just want to check around the camp. I'll keep the fire in sight."
"Be careful," Alex said. An intense light shone in his eyes, but Cara didn't think too much about it. They were all tired and emotional from the day's events.
With a lantern in one hand, Cara circled out from their camp, keeping the fire to her left, her ears pricked for any more cries. Another one sounded, but in the far distance. Cara peered into the trees, sure that she'd see red eyes, but none appeared. Still, she didn't want to take any chances. She doubted a dark flight through the swamp would end well, especially with Sandu in his current condition. With the dwindling firelight ever in her sight, she kept circling. At last, just as she could barely see the glow through the trees, she sighed in relief.
No prowlers nearby, she thought. And no calls for a while now. She desperately hoped that the monsters roamed far away from them.
Halfway back to the camp, Cara decided that her trip away from the fire shouldn't be wasted. She set a quick snare, paying little heed to the finesse of her handiwork. It doesn't have to be pretty to catch a rabbit.
As she approached the camp, Cara raised her lantern high and swung it a few times so that Alex didn't try to stab her. She rejoined her friends by the fire and blew out her small light. "Nothing out there."
"You rest for now," Alex said. "I'll watch until I need to sleep."
Cara nodded. She and Sandu curled up against each other as Alex stood up and stretched. Though Sandu soon drifted into sleep, Cara stayed up a little longer, her half-closed eyes watching the scholar. She liked the way he moved, the gentleness of his hands and the sharpness of his green eyes. She especially liked how he looked at her. Sandu joked about Alex and I, but he was right. There's something here, and I want to find out where it goes.
Eventually, her eyes drifted closed.
Though candles had passed, Cara woke after what felt like moments. Her sleep had been dreamless, and she gazed groggily into the still-dark swamp. Alex bent over her, his hand on her shoulder. "There's still a few more candles 'til dawn. Think you can take over for me?"
Cara nodded and gently pushed Sandu's head from her lap. He grumbled, but didn't wake. She stretched and yawned, sore and cold from the hard ground. As Alex settled down beside Sandu, Cara fed the fire. She asked, "Any more calls?"
"No. It's been quiet."
Cara opened her mouth, then shut it. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry, and she knew she should let him sleep, but...
"It always takes me awhile to drift off," Alex said as if reading her mind. "We can talk for a bit, if you'd like."
Cara smiled at him. In the firelight, his strong features smoothed into an almost boy-like quality. She asked, "Are scholars allowed to have wives?"
His knowing look made her feel foolish. "We are. Most of us aren't monks, you know."
"Oh." She was glad the darkness hid her blush.
"Of course, many noble sons get married off eventually. I'm one of the lucky ones whose family doesn't care about me passing on our blood. That honor is only required of my brother."
"Are your lands expansive?" Cara asked teasingly.
"Mine? Oh no. Mine are quite small. My brother's, though, will make quite the dowry for a lucky bride." He pulled his coat closer around him and asked, "What about your lady? Had her father arranged a marriage for her yet?"
Cara nodded. "The papers were signed just before he died. Renna didn't like the man, though. She asked for a full year's mourning to delay the wedding."
"A wise decision. If you rescue her, she could petition Earl Stonetree to nullify the contract."
"I suppose." Cara started to move away, but Alex caught her hand. As he pulled her close, her heart stuttered in her chest. Her skin tingled under his touch, and her breath hitched in her throat. He drew her in until their knees were touching, their faces inches apart.
"Why do you want to know about scholars and wives?" he murmured. His breath was hot on her cheek.
"Just...curious," Cara managed, too enamored by his lips to think any further. One of his hands entwined in her braid, and he leaned in. She had been kissed before, but never had she felt such a swell of desire inside her. She closed her eyes, ready, but the kiss never came.
Alex froze. Cara tried not to feel disappointed – after all, she was only a country girl, and he was a noble – but then he put a finger to her mouth.
"Listen," he said.
Cara pulled away, frowning. At first, she heard nothing. "Wh–"
Then she detected it. An absence of sound, like the swamp was holding its breath. In the silence, she heard the faintest hiss of breath between pointed teeth. It came from where she'd set the snare.
Cara drew her sword and indicated Alex to stay. He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head. She stole through the trees on quiet feet, eyes straining in the darkness. The beast uncurled from its slumber, begging to be released. Even as she pushed it down, Cara wondered if she'd need it for this fight.
Something moved in the gloom, and a high-pitched cry shot through the air. Cara paused, watching as the prowler's dark shape pounced on a rabbit caught in the snare. She raised her sword, ready to strike.
Light flared behind her. Cara whirled to see Alex with a raised lantern. But he didn't look confused or frightened; his expression was determined.
In the sudden light, the prowler hissed and crouched low. Cara turned back to face it, and went rigid.
The prowler was a child, its eyes rimmed red, forehead marred with bone-like ridges, fangs jutting out from its diminutive lips. Its talons dripped with the rabbit's blood. It had once been a boy, no older than eleven or twelve.
Cara drew back in horror. The prowler had only hunger in its eyes.
It lunged at her, low and fast. Cara pointed the sword at it, scraping its chest. It hissed. The primal part of her won out, and Cara let the beast rise to meet its kin. The hands clutching her sword rippled as her nails grew into claws. She pushed back at the creature with greater strength. It startled at her transformation, its red eyes widening, a keening cry escaping from its lips.
The beast's fury overrode Cara's terror. The prowler growled and swatted at her, but her reach was longer. It tried to leap again, and with deadly aim, she struck its head from its shoulders. The small body fell as its head landed inches from her foot.
Cara screamed, for she saw not the prowler's face, but Merick's, slack-jawed and empty. She shut her eyes tightly, but when she opened them, Renna glared back from bloodied blue eyes, tongue lolling out. Cara turned away and found herself in Alex's arms. He cradled her against his shoulder as she shuddered.
Cara dared another peek at the head. The dead prowler stared up at the trees, its child's face innocent, not like a monster's at all. It once had a father and mother, maybe sisters and brothers that it played with in the sun.
She had killed a child.
No, Cara shook herself. It was a prowler. Any trace of that child is gone.
Yet when she looked again, she saw a boy's dim pupils, not the creature's hazy red ones. Blood gushed out of its hacked neck, both enticing and repulsive. For a moment, the beast sniffed, urging her to taste it, just a little drop on her tongue, nothing more–
Cara forced the beast back down. It surrendered, if unhappily, as her features and hands returned to normal. She clung to Alex, unashamed of the tears that stained his fine tunic.
"Shh," he said. "We're safe now."
He doesn't understand. I killed a child.
Alex led her back to camp, and though she protested, he insisted she sleep through the night. He held her head in his lap, stroking her hair, until she fell asleep.
But her dreams were plagued by the prowler child. It walked toward her, its head under its arm. You did this to me, whispered its pale lips. You're no better than a monster.
"Shut up," Cara said. "You're dead."
I know. But how did I die? Was I really a prowler, or just a lost child driven mad with hunger? A lost child that you murdered. Struck my head right off, you did. Well done. Don't all noble warriors start by killing children?
"You're not real!" Cara shouted at the shambling corpse. Worms crawled over its red-stained skin, brown flecks against stark white.
I'm as real as you. Gently must you treat the little children. Gently strike them through their little hearts. Little heart you could hold in your palm. Little heart you stopped from beating.
"Stop it! Stop it, you're dead," Cara sobbed, but she couldn't tear herself from the sight of a worm burrowing into the boy's staring eye. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I didn't want to."
But you did. You wanted my blood, so tender and sweet. So good for one like us.
Cara recoiled. She shook her head even though she knew that the creature was right. It had felt good to deliver the killing blow. She did crave its blood.
Before the creature could say more, Cara sat up, suddenly awake as only one can wake from a nightmare. The swamp had lightened somewhat with the early sun. She rubbed her arms as she looked around for Alex and Sandu. Both were up and preparing the horses. They spoke in hushed tones.
"Is she hurt?" Sandu asked.
Alex replied softly, "No. But she's affected by it."
"I see." Sandu glanced at her and, seeing her awake, came over. He knelt beside her, his fingers playing with the edge of his blanket. "How are you feeling?"
Cara didn't know how to answer. She felt confused: pleased with killing the prowler, appalled at herself for doing it, disgusted with the beast's hunger for blood. Unconsciously, she watched the vein pulse in Sandu's neck. When she realized it, she tore her eyes away and said, "The child was in my dreams."
"It wasn't a child," Alex said. "I even looked this morning, just to appease you. It was a prowler."
"But it was only a child! It once had parents and playmates, and...and...and I killed it. And I saw horrible things, Merick and Renna dead in the creature's place, judging me. What would Merick think of me? What if Renna finds out? To know that I killed..."
"They would understand," Sandu said gently. "You did it to defend us."
"Prowlers aren't the humans they once were," Alex said. "The child whose body it stole was long dead already. You did what you had to."
That doesn't make it right. Cara took a deep breath and tried to listen to her friends' reasoning. They're right, it was a prowler, not a child. But...how many more children out there have lost their lives to these beasts? Another horrible thought struck her. Are there fampir children doomed to immortality?
"Can children become fampir too?" she asked, dreading the answer. Sandu's face blanched. When she looked to Alex, his expression had darkened.
"There shouldn't be," he said. "But it's possible. All the accounts I've read have forbidden their creation. It is the only law among fampir, though who knows if they all follow it."
Cara shuddered, and decided that the only recourse was to destroy any fampir and prowlers she found. If they're dead, they can't pass on their curse. With Alex's help, she climbed to her feet. He mounted the horse behind her, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. Sandu looked uncomfortable on an unfamiliar horse, but he tapped his heels to follow them.
"Your beast helped you against the prowler," Alex said softly as they rode into the swamp, morning light barely piercing the intertwining treetops. "Maybe it's not as bad as you think."
"I was faster, and stronger. But the beast made me feel this...unnatural thirst. I don't want to become a monster that drinks blood."
"Once we reach Riverfen and unload the scrolls, I'll see what more they say of the sulpari. I might consult Lord Mavian Strilu as well, since he's conducted his own research into the prowlers. He could help us."
Cara leaned her head against his chest, enjoying the comforting feeling. She said, "If I try to drink anyone's blood, you'll stop me?"
"Yes."
That one word was all she needed. She relaxed at last, letting herself melt into the saddle and the circling touch of his arms. Every one in awhile, she looked back to Sandu, making sure he was still there. She smiled at him, and promised herself she would tell him that night how much she worried for him after he disappeared. I want you with me, too, she would say. You and Alex are the only true friends I've ever had. It pained her that she could no longer count Renna among her friends. We've grown apart, and I don't think she'll want someone like me in her employ. An ache for the past filled Cara's chest. She would find Renna and soak in all she could of her lady, basking in the memories they had shared together. Then, she would have to let her go. Picturing it was both relieving and terrifying: for the longest time, Renna and Cara had been inseparable. With each passing day, Cara found that she missed her less.
"Alex," Cara murmured, "when you went to Mott, did you leave behind people you loved?"
She twisted up to look at him. His jaw clenched, and he nodded. "But it was the right choice. My brother and I have very different ways of looking at the world, and it was best I leave him for a time. We still write, and occasionally visit, but it's best this way. We find we can love each other much better from a distance."
Cara pondered this as they rode. She said, "I hope Renna hasn't changed as much as I have, or we won't recognize each other."
He laughed. "You'll each be proud of the other. Change sparks new life. It would be a dreary existence if one couldn't grow into one's old age."
Sandu came up beside them. "If Papa saw me now, I think he'd still want to take a switch to me. He'd call me an idiot for being taken in by the mist-folk."
Cara giggled. "Before or after he hugged you for facing down prowlers?"
"That would be just another switch for making clod-headed decisions."
Alex said, "You barbaric rustics. Nobles don't beat their children; they simply make them write lines for a day."
"I don't know which of those is worse," Cara said, "but I could tell you some of the punishments Merick came up with. He had quite the imagination."
Though their stomachs grumbled and the sunshine still struggled to reach the ground, they laughed and talked, the horrors of the day before slowly fading away. Yet when Cara glanced into the woods, sometimes she thought she saw a glint of small red eyes, and she couldn't quite shake the memory of the prowler child.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Seanna
"WILL IT BE a boy?" asked Lady Marcha, her hands running over Seanna's small belly. Finally past the three-month mark, Seanna felt confident in announcing her first pregnancy to the court. Ladies cooed over her while gentlem
en shook Henrik's hand in congratulations.
Seanna smiled. "I do believe so. My mother bore a son her first time, and her mother before her. 'Tis a likely thing!"
"Oh, that is marvelous."
The lady drifted away, and for the first time that evening, Seanna found herself alone in the giant banquet hall. Nobles gathered in small groups, the murmur of their individual voices indistinct in the overall babble. Seanna meandered to the nearest group of people she recognized. She stood at the edge of their circle, smiling and nodding along with their conversation.
Not one addressed her.
Seanna took a sip of her wine and tried not to feel disappointed. She had only come to Con Salur six months ago, after all, and recently married the king. Before that, her father had often refused to take her or her sister with him to engagements such as these. It was no surprise that few nobles knew her well enough to invite her into their circles.
Still, Seanna tried. After the failed event, she went to Henrik to ask his advice, but he merely laughed at her.
"Speak up for yourself, woman! Or don't say anything at all. Silence is preferred for a lady."
Later that quinn, Seanna tried to ingratiate herself with some of the courtiers from the area with a story of her voyage from Brin to Con Salur. They looked at her with disdain, then returned to their gossip.
Gossip, she found to her horror, that turned on her after her miscarriage a month later, and that only grew worse after the loss of her second pregnancy as well.
In the quiet dining room, her third pregnancy making her feet swell and giving her a headache, Seanna pondered the mistakes she had made a few years before. Too kind, too sweet, too honest. The rustics love a queen like that; courtiers despise her.
Earl Seastone entered the room and inclined his head. "Forgive me for my lateness." He bent and took her hand, brushing it with a light kiss.
"Come, sit down, let us eat and talk. The world moves fast enough without us lingering over my knuckles." Seanna gestured to the meal laid out on the dark-stained table. "Your chefs have prepared us a specialty from my grandfather's homeland. And done a marvelous job of it, if the smell is anything to go by. My mouth has been watering ever since I sat down."
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