Galan wasn’t quick to remove his weapon. Instead he leaned his weight down on it, and I saw the intense look in his eyes, glaring down at Ferlan. This was personal, and he wanted to see every second of the commander’s death.

Even after the commander was gone, Galan remained for a long moment. Finally, he stood straight, pulling his sword from the commander’s body with an audible squelch.

His body doesn’t move to show this, but I know he’s scanning the area, noting everything. It’s like he’s expecting something else, but when it doesn’t happen, he instead turns to my building and stalks toward it, knowing where to find me.

The door was suddenly free of its hinges, smacking against the ground. Galan appeared seconds later in the frame, narrowed eyes sweeping the room before settling on me. Something flashed in his eyes. Anger? Wariness?

I couldn’t place what it was, and it bothered me.

“Claudia,” he murmured, and a feeling I’d thought long dead washed over me. It felt as though pure, humanly life had been breathed into me, hearing my name come from him.

In the blink of an eye, he’d crossed the room and was kneeling before me. I still stood, and it was odd to look down at him. “I’m sorry,” Galan said, and my brows knitted.

Sorry? “What do you have to be sorry for?” I asked him, my heart still in a flurry over his arrival.

“Everything,” he muttered, turning his head to avoid my gaze. His attention drew to the chains that bound me, then dipped his chin to his chest, almost in shame.

He stayed like that for longer than I felt comfortable with. Finally, he rose to his feet and met my eyes again. “Do you have the key?” I asked. “Or are we waiting for something here?”

Though still troubled, his eyes squinted in what I knew was at least half a smile. “I’ll be right back,” he said to me, and disappeared.

I watched through the gaps of the walls as Galan approached Ferlan’s body, lowering into a crouch above him. He fished through the commander’s clothes, digging into each pocket he saw until he found what he wanted.

He was back inside instantly, and I felt taken aback by how quickly he moved. He was faster than I, and I knew my speed was already above normal.

It made me curious about him, and what he could do.

He loomed in front of me, inches between us, and I felt a tension in that gap. Unspoken words hummed in my ears, and I waited for Galan to speak them, to reveal them.

Instead, he reached for my hand, gently cupping it between both of his. He brought our hands in front of us, his eyes leaving mine to inspect the cuff. Galan turned my wrist, and I spotted the keyhole.

Moments later, my hand is freed. He does the same for the other, silent as air. Something monumental had happened, and he wasn’t telling me.

But I wouldn’t push the subject. Yet.

“Bastard,” he said, breaking the silence. “I should kill him again.” Galan’s eyes were murderous as he stared at my throat, and the cuff tightly fitted around it.

I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I stayed silent, not moving a muscle as he got closer. He almost seemed hesitant himself, but his touch was pleasant; one hand holding my shoulder as the other pushed my hair over my shoulders.

I focused on his face, and I felt my heart jump when he leaned down, his eyes searching for the keyhole. I also remembered that he could hear just as well as I could, and had likely heard.

Embarrassment nipped me, but I refused to acknowledge it.

Galan’s face was beyond my sight now, at least until he found the release. The hand holding my shoulder now skimmed over the metal on the other side, fingers searching for it.

He must’ve found it, for suddenly it fell open, releasing my neck. Relief flooded me, hands reaching up to touch the skin there, rejoicing in freedom.

“Thank you,” I murmured, and I meant it.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, his breath fanning over my ear. “This was my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone in Silbath.”

“Are you going to tell me why you did?” My voice had dropped to barely above a whisper, matching the way he spoke to me. My heart was beating rapidly and I didn’t know why.

As if snow had been dumped over his back, Galan reeled back and took a step away. “No,” he said. “Not right now,” he reiterated, shaking his head.

Something caught my attention- movement outside. Galan noticed it too, instantly drawing his weapon as he stalked to the open doorway.

It was subtle, but I saw the annoyance hidden in his features just before he left, with me right behind him.

Only one stood amongst the bodies, and I began to lunge for him before Galan stopped me. He simply held one arm out, ushering me back behind him.

Serin, whom I’d forgotten about until now, smiled with far too much confidence. I wanted to rip that smile off of his lips, but I heeded to Galan. I had no reason not to follow his lead.

He held out his hands, showing he harbored no weapons. Serin kept his hands raised, pleased with himself for some reason. What now?

“I should’ve made sure you were dead too,” Galan said casually, somehow drifting closer to Serin without alarming him. His sword was drawn, and he held it with clear intentions.

“You certainly can now,” the commander spoke, but his eyes were on me. “But I would advise that it might be wise to keep me alive, seeing how you killed the King’s nephew.” He didn’t sound the least bit moved over it, only glancing at the body once.

Nephew to a King or not, Ferlan wouldn’t be missed.

Galan hummed, considering this in mild interest. “And why is that?”

“You have no steeds, or food, and I’m sure a dog needs to sleep eventually. You’ll need all of those, Hound, if you expect to outrun the King’s army.” Serin’s hands fell back to his sides, holding them there loosely, letting his words sink in. “Or you could wait here and bargain with my life for better sentencing.” He shrugged and looked over his shoulder, back at the road we had yet to travel down. “Your choice.”

“We’re a day's ride from the wall, commander. Do you expect me to believe you sent someone today and they’ve already made it there?” Galan paused, suspicion in his voice. “Even so, a fleet won’t make it here in time.”

“No,” the commander replied flatly. “I expect you to believe I sent a raven the day you came to Silbath. A rider was ordered to leave the night before the inn was raided, then you, of course, showed up again.”

“Ah,” Galan said, but he hadn’t moved yet. He was thinking about our options here, surely. “Where are they then?”

“They’re a little late.” Serin seemed moderately annoyed, his fingers twitching as if aching for a weapon to hold.

Seeing how Galan hadn’t immediately killed him, Serin bravely took a step forward, then another. “So why does a Hound care for a vampire, hmm?”

“You’re not very convincing.” Galan discreetly angled himself to shelter more of me from Serin’s sight. “If what you say is true, keeping you alive will make little difference to Mirin. The greater act has already been committed, or do you mean to imply you mean more than a dead relative of your King?”

Serin only shrugged his shoulders again. “I won’t lie about Ferlan or my worth. It was only his blood that allowed him to be a commander, a shoddy one at that. I did not have the fortune of royal blood.” So I’m better, was all he was saying.

“A self-made commander?” Galan laughed at him. “Let’s not lie about what’s in your blood, because we both know what’s in it.”

Something about the way Galan spoke had me taking a step back. His voice was unrecognizable, deeper and. . . almost like Ascelin’s echoing harmony of voices. I don’t think Serin heard it, but I did.

Was Serin not human, a commander for the King of Men? And what had Galan just done?

Serin’s eyes widened, and I was slightly satisfied to see his smile fall. I was still astonished by Galan, and somewhere deep within me, I no longer believed he was just a Hound.

“You know nothing about that,” Serin spat, saying nothing about what I’d heard. He was scared that Galan had hinted at anything about it.

“I don’t?” Galan teased him, and I could practically hear the raised eyebrow.

Serin sputtered for a moment then shut his mouth, his heart thrumming with his adrenaline. Or was it something else?

Ascelin had kept his people sheltered from this world, and I saw that now. Thoroughly sheltered. I knew nothing, and each time I thought I’d learned something, I was wrong.

Giving nothing else away, Serin glanced back over his shoulder, and this time, I followed his gaze. I saw them now- small dots racing down our same road. They were far, but with their speed, I imagined they’d be here within an hour or two.

He turned back to us. “It’s time to make your choice. If you hope to escape them, I suggest leaving now.”

Galan lifted his sword, keeping it level with Serin’s throat, and held it there. I bit down on my tongue from saying anything, waiting for Galan to say something.

Frustration nipped at my insides, curling in my gut like an agitated beast. At every turn, I was met with capture. Would I ever simply be free to exist?

No. The answer came to me instantly, a deep, resounding finality. I’d have to fight for it. The unanswered question was whether I wanted to or not.

I was so torn between everything. One foot in the door of life, the other in death. I wanted to slump my shoulders and accept what was coming, yet still craving to fight it.

Galan still hadn’t spoken, and I almost feared he had the same internal battle. Was I even worth fighting for anymore? I could almost hear his thoughts.

“In the building,” Galan said at last, giving a small motion with his sword. Serin’s lips split into a grin, showcasing pearly teeth. Rip them out, my body urged me.

“As you wish, Hound.” Serin’s eyes were on me as he walked past Galan, making my stomach twist into tighter knots.

Galan followed behind him, not looking at me. Serin was casual, acting as though he’d won. I didn’t fully believe that Galan wouldn’t kill him yet.

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I trailed them a distance behind, occasionally looking at the horizon. They were too far to count, but from the bulk, it was more than a handful of soldiers. I began to doubt I was ever meant to be sent anywhere but right into Mirin’s hands.

It must’ve been the goal all along. Why else would I be dumped in Silbath, a town crawling with hidden eyes for its King?

Once inside, Serin already knew where to go. He strode to the chains and shackles that had previously held me, and expectantly waited.

The commander held his arms out, his back turned to us, facing the wall. “Well?” He asked, almost sounding like he was laughing.

Galan brought his arm forward, sword extended before him. Palming it with both hands, he took one step before bringing it over his head, then down over Serin’s right elbow.

It sheared it clean through, and I watched as the severed limb fell to the floor. Serin’s screams were music to my ears, and I was filled with fascination over the blood that gushed out of him.

While the commander was in a painful daze, Galan clasped his other arm and shackled it. The one used for my neck was abandoned; there was no need for it. Serin wouldn’t be able to escape, and I hoped he’d bleed out.

Galan briefly glanced at me before turning on his heel, aiming to leave. “Where are you going?” I found myself asking him, just before he’d crossed the threshold.

He paused, his head low in visible shame. Or was it anger? “Seeing if I can find any of the horses.”

“Good luck,” Serin gasped between pained, panting breaths. “I set them loose hours ago.”

Galan didn’t wait any longer. He was gone before I could say anything else, leaving me alone with the bleeding commander. I kept my back to him, knowing that if I turned and saw his face, I’d kill him myself.

It was him this entire time. He’d seen us on our way into Silbath, and I wish I’d known I was doomed for this outcome the moment he saw us.

I stayed like that for the entire time Galan was gone. Serin was a whimpering mess behind me, all traces of the cocky self-made commander gone once he’d tasted pain.

Galan returned within the hour, shaking his head at me as he entered the building. No luck.

I tasted blood in my mouth from biting my tongue. I wanted to scream at Serin for doing this, for being two steps ahead of us. Even Galan had been bested here. “Are they close?” I asked him, keeping my voice lower than what the commander could hear.

“They’re here,” Galan muttered, and as he said it, I heard the thundering of hooves, echoing through the earth. Here indeed.

Steeling myself, I took a breath of air that my body didn’t need, but my mind did. “I’m sorry Claudia,” Galan whispered to me, his gaze boring into mine. I felt the sincerity in his tone, deep-rooted guilt that he hadn’t explained to me yet. “You don’t deserve this.”

“Apparently I do,” I said, taking my eyes away from him. I peered over his shoulder, expecting something to be waiting for us outside, but the noise had simply stopped, and silence ensued. “I’m a monster, just like the rest of my kind.”

“No, Claudia,” he said, lifting a hand to hold my chin. He was gentle, tilting my head back up to look at him. “You’re not. You’re not like them,” he murmured.

This felt too intimate, while only one of us knew what they were saying. And it wasn’t me. “I’m a vampyr, Galan.”

“You’re far more than just that,” he growled, a sudden change in his temperament. “Do not compare yourself to them. Ever.”

I couldn’t hold his stare any longer. Lowering my eyes, I gazed outside the doorway. They were here, I knew that, but they were waiting for us. Odd.

“What are we to do?” I asked him warily, although I found comfort that I wasn’t alone. It was Galan, of all people, at my side, protecting me.

I could feel the presence of them; a heavy shadow that patiently waited outside for its prey. They’d blocked out any light filtering into the building, and I only caught brief glances of them through the wooden boards.

Shiny, silver metal straddled atop dark, meaty horses. Long weapons sparkling in the timid lighting, drawn and pointed for the door.

They could storm the building and easily overwhelm us, but instead they merely sat, knowing we had nowhere else to go.

“There is no way to avoid this. We’re fast, but we could never have outrun them on foot, especially in open, flat lands like this.” His hand released me, dropping back to his side. I felt as though I’d done something wrong now. “I will deal with Mirin. He won’t touch you.”

How could he say that with so much confidence? Him versus a King’s will. It wouldn’t be plausible, not if Mirin set his intentions on me.

My shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Where else is there for me to go, anyways? Where in this world will I be welcome, Galan? Reddon was the only home I had. I’m such a fool.”

I could hear him suck in a breath, preparing to say something, but after a long moment, he released that breath, as well as whatever he was going to say. This self pity must’ve been hitting hard, for in that moment I was entirely reminded of William, and all the unspoken words between us.

“You should go, Hound.” I took a step away from him, towards the door. “You tried your best to help me, and I appreciate that. I do. It’s time for you to return to where you belong, and I will find the ending I deserved.”

“Stop talking like that,” Galan hissed, snatching my wrist before I could keep going. “Don’t you see yourself, Claudia? You care. You feel. No vampyr, pure-blood or not, has ever had emotions. Not like you do, anyways,” he said.

“And what does that change?” I challenged him. “I still kill to survive, I still break and hurt things without trying to. I’ve been in some daze ever since I woke up, but I’m seeing clearly now, Galan.”

Gently, I tried to pull away from him, taking a step back. Instead, he followed me. “Galan,” I murmured. “Let me go.” Meeting his eyes, I saw the steely resolve in them. He wasn’t giving up on this, but he wasn’t disputing my argument either.

“Weeping after the deed doesn’t return the lives I’ve stolen, Galan.” I’d dropped to a whisper again, my voice cracking on his name. “A vampyr with a human soul is still a vampyr.”

“I wish I could explain it to you right now, Claudia, but you’re not a vampyr. Not even close to that.” His voice was a soft caress to my ears, and I wanted to believe him, but there was no other explanation for what I was.

I hadn’t seen other vampyrs in action, but I knew enough to know I was just like them. Fast, cold, and a lethal killer. It didn’t matter if I was technically not one of them, somehow.

“And are you going to tell that to the men outside? That this is all a big misunderstanding and I’m not what they think I am?” I questioned him. “No,” I answered on his behalf. “That’s not going to happen, and it wouldn’t work either.”

He opened his mouth to talk but I raised my other hand, silencing him. “I’m going to go out there, Galan. And you will make yourself look like more trouble than you’re worth so you can get out of here.”

His gaze was skipping from one side of my face to the other, reading something there. What did he see in my expression? What was there to make him suck in a long breath as he did; to make his expression soften on me?

“Are you ready to come out?” A loud, booming voice asked from outside. It was authoritative, yet carried a level of patience, experienced wisdom. “If you are, please do so without weapons. I’d like to lower mine, as my arm is a little sore out here.”

“Yes, I’ll come out,” I called out, and I heard a scattering murmur between the gathered men outside. Galan made a move to pull me back behind him, but I was faster this time. Regretfully, I pushed him back, and he actually staggered, taking a few steps back to regain his balance.

Before he could do anything else, I rushed through the doorway, hands at my sides. The ground was damp underneath my shoes, softening and moving beneath me.

Rain, gentle as a breeze, misted from above, clinging to my dress in small droplets. I’d kept my head bowed, pretending to submit to them. To my surprise, I heard Galan’s boot cross the threshold, following behind me.

“My name is Lothaire,” the lead man’s voice came again, though not as loud as before. It was gentler, even welcoming. “First born son of King Mirin, ruler of the land of Men. I’m here to take you to the King,” he said, explaining himself, though we’d already pieced that puzzle together long ago.

Galan spoke before I could. “Why does your father need a pure-blood vampyr?” He asked him brazenly, skipping the pretense of titles.

“He doesn’t,” Lothaire replied indignantly. “Anymore.”

Finally, I lifted my gaze up to the man in question. He was the head of a large company of soldiers, who idly sat by, awaiting orders. There were easily a hundred of them, crowding the road in rows of tens.

They all wore matching armor of silver, but brandished various weapons of glinting metal. The front row, behind Lothaire, held matching shields in their offhand. They’d lowered their weapons, following the lead of Lothaire, but the evident threat was still there.

Galan scoffed. “Then what is this for?”

“You, Hound, are what interests the King. Come,” he said, friendly in nature. He’d completely ignored the body that laid between us and them.

When neither of us moved on his invitation, he sighed and removed his helmet. Underneath the metal, he was a young, handsome man.

Golden hair flowed in soft waves down to his shoulders, his shapely face cleanly shaved. He was almost boyish, if it weren’t for the hardness in his features.

“You’re not a prisoner, not if you don’t have to be. King Mirin only wishes to speak with you. The vampyr will come as a guest, but I assure you, it’s not her that my father is after,” Lothaire continued, ever so patient.

I wasn’t exactly relieved that it wasn’t me the King wanted after all. I was still expected to come with him, but what did he want with Galan, then?

I could feel Galan’s eyes briefly skimming over me. What other choice did we have here? “Let’s get on with it then,” he said.