Charon

The time passes slowly. I tap my fingers in an insistent drumroll on my desk.

It’s been an hour or more since Vanya stumbled her way into the Evernight Forest and out again. She’s been behaving oddly ever since she escaped the dungeons, and I wish I knew why.

Leaning back in the wingback chair made of ebony and elderwood, I survey the crystal ball thoughtfully. Something has most certainly happened to her powers. If what I saw of her lamentable performance in the forest was any indication, she was wise to run.

It’s not as if there’s anything all that dangerous in the forest surrounding the Dark Fortress in the first place. Granted, a few species of carnivorous creatures in there do keep intruders away, due to their habit of devouring any human they see first and asking questions never.

But even Vanya, low on power though she is compared to my other generals, should have had no trouble fighting them off. Nor should I have had to watch her struggle to hack and slash her way through the dense foliage.

I mean, it’s a problem when a general of a vampiric army has to worry about overgrown vegetation getting in her way. What an embarrassment.

Balthasar was right. She does deserve to be punished. In fact, I should have killed her on the spot the very moment she started screaming in fright.

Instead, I’ve subjected myself to the boredom of watching her make her way through the forest by the skin of her teeth and into the safety of the village nearby. Some unshaved and unwashed peasant has offered her a free bed for the night, too. Lucky, lucky Vanya.

But one good thing is that I can see into her mind now. Despite the difficulty in getting attuned to her thoughts in the beginning, the low-level creatures in the Evernight Forest managed to open her up into a state of terror and exhaustion. It was easy enough for me to slip in after that.

Her mood of despondency reaches a peak when she sees her own face in the mirror. I’m not surprised. I’d be heartbroken, too, if I saw myself looking like a disheveled beggar after one little escape through the forest.

But what really surprises me is the fact that she breaks down crying.

Tears? From Vanya?

Where did all her usual bloodthirstiness go? What did the damn Argenti hero even do to her, curse her with something so devastatingly powerful that she lost all her skills at one stroke?

The tears stream down Vanya’s face helplessly, making me wince. Enough.

“What are you doing?” I ask in disgust in her mind.

Her amber eyes fly open, and she screams again. The shrill sound makes me roll my eyes. Should I expect screaming to be her new reaction to everything now?

“What?” She stares blindly into the middle distance with shock. “What? Who—”

“Who do you think, Vanya?” I snap. This is getting to be too much. She knows I share a mindlink with all my generals. It’s been a long time since I’ve used hers, but I find it impossible to believe that she’d forget the experience.

“I don’t know,” she whimpers. Just like a frightened little mouse. And she keeps speaking aloud rather than answering with her thoughts. Has she forgotten everything? “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you?” My voice in her head should be echoing with harsh strength by now. “If you don’t get your head straight and come back here at once, I’ll do a lot worse than hurt you. I’ll demote you.”

“Oh.”

That didn’t sound like fear to me. Just confusion.

A confusion which echoes mine. Something is very wrong here.

I’ve been feeling it for a while. Even before I noticed Vanya was missing from the war room, there was something in the air that felt just a little off-kilter. It’s like a wrongness to the way things are, like the way it’s always been but twisted a little sideways and into a new shape.

I don’t like it. It makes my skin crawl.

I didn’t even know Vanya could cry. I always assumed that behind her eyes, there existed only brutality and bloodlust. Not much strategic planning capability, all things considered, but that’s what Balthasar and I are for.

So if Lady Vanya Calrooke is getting all weepily sentimental now, someone’s going to have to deal with it. Preferably before she damages my plans to take the kingdom.

I sigh.

“What’s wrong with you? Did the battle with the golden hero knock something loose in your head? Answer me honestly, Vanya. If Elle Argenti has acquired a new weapon, I need to know about it. Now.”

Otherwise all my other generals could be at risk as well. I picture Alecus weeping, Virithos sniffling, and even Balthasar bowed over, his bear-like body wracked with sobs. What a horrible thought.

Dismissing the ugly image from my mind as quickly as possible, I return to the mindlink with Vanya, seeking the answers I can already sense she doesn’t have.

She just sighs and blinks. I watch the room she’s in take shape through tear-blurred eyes. A greater contrast to the Dark Fortress could not have been imagined. She left my war council for this?

The walls of my fortress are old stone, and the steel doors were first cast in the forge in the Oasis of Night. Silk tapestries cover the walls, and carpets of the finest wool lie snugly on the floor. Everything is solid, luxurious, and most importantly, highly defensible.

Meanwhile, Vanya’s looking for safety in a decrepit wooden tavern with moldy walls and the sign hanging off its hook. This is a farce.

“Have you struck a bargain with someone?” I ask her suddenly. “Are you being paid to betray me?”

A short pause later, she finally deigns to answer me. “No.”

It’s a small, defeated voice that comes back to me across the miles separating us. But it satisfies me that she hasn’t fled to Rathmore, at least. Had that been the case, she would never have stopped at the tavern. She would know I’d hunt her to the ends of the earth for it.

“Who,” she begins to say weakly then stops. “How did you know where I am?”

“Did you forget I use scrying to find people?” I retort. “I could swear you were in the room when I was told that idiot Melize went and got lost in the Land of Sorrows. Didn’t you see me use a crystal ball then?”

“Ohhh.” She sounds like she’s been enlightened all of a sudden. “Oh, right. Yeah. I remember reading about that somewhere.”

Reading about it where? I’m running a war room, not a records-keeping archive.

But before I can question her, Vanya jumps to her feet and smooths her clothes down. A fresh spurt of energy, apparently, and not a moment too soon.

“I’m not going back,” she says into the mirror. I stare into the reflection of her narrowed eyes in the spotty glass.

“Choose your next words wisely,” I say silkily. “Otherwise they may well be your last.”

“Well, I’m not going back right now.” She’s practically falling over herself to avoid my displeasure. “I’ve, um—I already promised Theo I would help with tomorrow’s breakfast. Serving food, washing dishes. Things like that, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” I reply coldly. In my world, serving and washing up happens to other people. And it should be far beneath my generals. “Who’s Theo?”

“Oh, he owns this inn,” she replies quickly. “He’s very nice.”

Ah. The peasant. The one who gave her a bed for the night, no questions asked. How very convenient.

Too convenient.

Yet a lowly tavernkeep shouldn’t have the power to harm my cause. I shrug. Vanya is quite attractive, as these things go. If this hairy serf has become besotted with her, that’s his business. If Vanya returns his feelings, that may just be mine.

“Vanya.” I return to my conversation with her with a new thread of steel in my voice. “Just a thought. If I find out that you’ve been wasting your time frolicking with the local villagers behind my back instead of focusing on my mission priorities, the consequences will be extremely unpleasant for you. . . and them. I’m always looking for more donors.”

“No, of course not,” she says almost indignantly. “I’m just asking if I can stay the night here. I’m tired and I need to rest. Sorry, Duke,” she adds, almost as an afterthought.

I scowl blackly.

“That is not the correct form of address, as you well know.” Frost forms like icicles in my voice. “But I’ll let it pass just this once. Present yourself tomorrow morning. Early. I’ll let you rest for now, but I don’t want to hear any more of this egregious nonsense after this. Are we clear?”

“Yes. Clear.” She sounds subdued. It seems I’ve gotten through to her at last.

“And Vanya?”

“Yes?”

“The larger goal is to kill Elle Argenti, once and for all. I don’t want her posing another problem like this again, do you understand? Get rid of her for me before she can get in the way of my takeover of Celestia.”

I pause.

“Once Zen Rathmore’s capital is mine, I take his throne and everything else he has. In order for that to happen, Argenti has to die, and you need to bring me my prize.”

Let that sink in for a moment.

Vanya’s reply comes back to me in a shuddering sigh.

“Yes,” she says quietly. “I understand.”

“Good.” I smile unpleasantly into the crystal ball. “And I hope you realize the consequences of failing me. You do, don’t you?”

She says nothing. It’s time for me to cut the mindlink anyway. But I have one last reminder before I let her go.

“Because if Argenti isn’t dead by your hand soon, Vanya, then you die by mine.”