I bite my lip lightly, staring at a name. I recognize it. From Ruvan mentioning it, and from my dream last night.
“She was working with a king named Solos—”
They all go deathly still. Their change in demeanor is sudden enough that I’m silenced.
“You know him?”
“Know him?” Winny scoffs. “He’s a legend.”
“He was the last king before the long night.” Ruvan shifts, definitely closer than would be generally considered “appropriate” for two people in our circumstances. Oddly, I find his presence comforting. A line was crossed the moment he drank from me, a barrier between us removed. He squints with focus as he looks at the paper, as if trying to read it.
“There’s no way a human was working with King Solos.” Ventos crosses his arms with a huff. “The king of the vampir would never lower himself to such a thing.”
“Lower himself?” I repeat softly. No one seems to hear but Ruvan. His silence is deafening. I try to pass it off as the conversation moving too quickly.
“He could’ve been using the human for her blood,” Winny says. “Made the door so only a human could open it—and he was the only one in control of them.”
“Unless this human was the one who betrayed him? Solos made this place to cage her in, conduct his experimentations, and she gleaned knowledge of the blood lore because of it.” Lavenzia frowns at one of the sets of vials before her.
Control? Cage her in?I’m liking this King Solos and the early vampir less and less by the minute.
“You don’t think a human would actually try to go against him, do you?” Winny murmurs. “Solos was a true king of the vampir; he had all the might of our people. He was the inventor of blood lore and knew it better than any. No human would dare cross him. And, given how humans were used in those early days…”
“How were they used?” I finally ask.
None of them seem to be able to look at me.
“Callos could tell you more, he knows the histories,” Winny says, more weakly than usual.
“They were used roughly,” Ruvan says flatly and then shifts the topic before I can inquire further, no doubt intentionally. “You mentioned some kind of protective spell? If she was working on such a thing, could it be the start of the curse?”
“A protection against vampir for humans, that’s where my mind went,” Ventos agrees.
“I don’t think that’s it.” I run my fingertip along the edge of the notes thoughtfully. They ignore me. Winny even wanders away.
“We’ll have to ask Callos when we return. Lavenzia, will you use your blood to mark these notes for preservation so we can bring them back?” Ruvan says.
“Absolutely.” But Lavenzia’s eyes drift to Winny before she can bite into her thumb. The latter is crouched in the corner of the room, scratching at something. “Winny? What is it?”
Everyone else’s attention pivots to her.
“I think there’s a trapdoor here.”
“And you’re trying to open it?” Lavenzia shakes her head. “Is it a good idea to open secret trapdoors in strange places?”
“We’ve come this far…and I certainly don’t want to go back the way we came. Not after someone disturbed a whole horde of Succumbed.” She looks pointedly at Ventos.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he huffs.
“It certainly wasn’t ours.” Lavenzia grins.
Ruvan sighs, drawing all eyes to him once more. “Let’s scour the room one more time. If nothing, we’ll take everything else we can.” His eyes are distant and his voice softens. “Too many past lords thought this was it. We must honor them by making their sacrifices to learn of this room, to secure routes with their lives, count.”
As the rest of them debate what’s best to bring back to Callos, Ruvan makes a few extra laps under the guise of “looking for anything else important.” But I know he’s still searching for the anchor—still hoping it might be hidden somewhere. His gaze is unfocused, haunted.
I can’t believe it but…my heart is aching for the vampir lord.
“Ruvan?” I say softly, just loud enough for him to hear, as the other three are organizing the journals and vials into a box for Ventos to carry. “Ruvan,” I repeat when he continues to stare at a now empty bookshelf.