Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

by Carissa Broadbent

“Death is what happens when you stand still,” I said. “Don’t stand still. Not for anything.”

“Are you ready?” I asked. He wasn’t. I could sense that. But he still said, without a hint of uncertainty, “Yes,” because Atrius worked only in absolutes. I appreciated that about him, even though I knew it would be the very quality that would end me.

It was probably when the slyviks roared, all together, that I thought maybe this was not the best of ideas.

If I’d had time to think about anything other than the bloodthirsty beasts mere feet away from us, I might have stopped to appreciate exactly how fearless Atrius was. I wondered if Nyaxia had appreciated what she’d had in him—probably the only man alive who’d throw himself into any inconceivable task a goddess might toss his way without a second of hesitation.

So here we were. About to do perhaps the most dangerous, stupidest thing I’d ever done, and if we got ourselves killed, everything would be over. The stakes were, if nothing else, exciting.

Territorial men—human or vampire or slyvik. The one thing you could always count on.

He pushed past me, his still-bloodied sword out. “Get away from her,” he ground out, and the four words were all command; a way I had never once heard another person speak to the Sightmother. But what struck me more was the protectiveness that permeated his presence with those words, primal and unguarded in a way that Atrius rarely was.

“There is no greater offering to a god than the acolyte of another,” I said. I raised the blade. And then, so fast I prayed no one else would have time to react while so blinded by magic, I sliced Atrius’s bindings, and shoved the hilt into his hands. “Don’t stand still,” I whispered.

“I promised you a kingdom of the White Pantheon conquered in your name,” Atrius said. “I do not make promises I don’t keep.”

“Two days. Two very busy days. And yet, as I was clearing the Salt Keep and claiming the palace and solidifying my hold over this kingdom, do you know what I was thinking about?” He paused, like he expected me to answer. When I didn’t, he said, “I was thinking about you. Your lies. Your betrayal.” His gaze lowered to the blade. “I was thinking about this dagger.” Then those eyes speared me right through the chest, deadlier than any blessed weapon. “And I thought about how you had used it,” he said. “To protect your people and mine. To save my life. To slay your kingdom’s tyrant.” He dropped the knife to his side, knuckles white around the hilt. His words were rougher now, like they bubbled up from somewhere deep inside himself. “I thought about killing you for the crime of carrying a dagger you did not use. And I decided I couldn’t. I told myself a million reasons why, but the truth is one I didn’t want to admit.”

“I cannot kill you because I know you, Vivi. I know every moment you lied to me, because I know every moment you told the truth. I know your truth. I can’t ignore it. Even though it would be far easier if I could.”

I said, voice raw, “There is nothing I can say to erase what I did.” “I don’t need your words.” He was so close now I felt his breath on my face. Felt that truth on my skin. “So show me,” he murmured. A command. A plea. Somehow both giving and taking, in equal measure. “Show me I’m right.” It went against everything I had always been. I wanted to cower from it. Wanted to hide. Instead, when Atrius’s hand rose to my face, I reached to the back of my head and untied my blindfold. The little strip of silk fluttered to the ground. I opened my eyes.

I opened my mouth to say something—wasn’t even sure what—but what came out was only a garbled sob. Atrius nodded, as if he still understood exactly what I meant, and he cradled my face between both hands. I closed my eyes, and he kissed one, then the other, catching the beginnings of tears on his lips. His presence surrounded me, warm and stable and firm, such a perfect mirror of my own, scars and all. I choked out, “I’m not afraid of death.” But I am afraid of this. Atrius, of course, already knew. “Me too,” he murmured, the words warm against my lips, and I wasn’t sure who moved first, only that our kiss was long and fierce and brutally honest with all the words we didn’t say.

A truth solidified in me, an echo of the confession I saw in his eyes then. I wouldn’t hide it from him. Because that’s all it was. A truth. “I love you,” I whispered, against the smooth flesh of his shoulder.

“Because even though there’s no longer a curse, I can’t seem to sleep without you.”

And then he whispered, his fingertips trailing through the whorls of my hair, “I love you, seer.”