More of a crowd had found their way to the garden. The knights tried to clear out the nobles and servants.

Eiva came to stand beside Rian. “Who was poisoned?”

“Odell,” Rian said.

Eiva moved in among the group, and Blossom did the same after talking to Leaf.

“We found him!” a knight said, an older man who came running into the garden. “The poisoner is from Acra, but he refuses to say who sent him, or what the poison is.”

“I know what the poison is,” Blossom said. “And I know the antidote.”

“So do I,” Eiva said. “This is a very obscure poison. It’s unlikely the one who knows how to make this would be sent to carry out the task. The King of Acra would want to keep such an asset close. Do you know where we can find ingredients?”

Blossom nodded. “Come with me.” She stood and looked at the knights. “Get Odell to his room. Keep him guarded.”

Rian knew there was nothing he could do to help. He found his way to the big graveyard near the edge of Veron. Halbert was there, sitting under a tree at the far end. Rian told him what had happened.

“It is likely the King of Acra who sent the poisoner,” Halbert said. “He wants the marriage stopped.”

Rian had thought that as well. “I think Eiva’s right that he would keep whoever made the poison close, but that means he can try again.”

Ransey found them in the graveyard a while later.

“The leader of the cult in Haren was talking to the archivist of Veron,” Ransey said. “I arranged to speak with him tomorrow morning. Rian and I will go.”

“And Eiva,” Halbert said.

Ransey shook his head. “He will only be expecting two of us.”

Eiva joined them before anything more could be said.

“How’s Odell?” Halbert asked.

“What happened to him?” Ransey asked.

“A poisoner, likely sent by the King of Acra, got to him,” Eiva said. “Blossom and I made the antidote. Odell will survive. He insists the wedding will still be tomorrow, early in the morning.”

The four of them went to the inn. Ransey told Eiva the plan, but she couldn’t change his mind about only him and Rian meeting with the archivist. Rian found it odd that Ransey wanted him to go. What if the archivist noticed the smell? In the morning, they all returned to the castle for the wedding. The poisoner had been found dead in his cell that morning, dead by the same poison he’d used on Odell.

Nothing happened at the wedding that shouldn’t. Odell and Ninette were married and Ninette named Gale her heir. On the way to the archive after the wedding, Rian heard Eiva talking to Halbert quietly.

“I went to the archive yesterday,” Eiva said. “I found out more about the Raven Witch, but not where she might be, and I don’t know how much of it is just rumors and legends.”

They stopped outside the big stone building that was the archive, at the end of the two steps up to the two wooden doors.

“Halbert and I will wait out here,” Eiva said to Ransey. “If you and Rian aren’t back by midday, we’re going in after you.”

Ransey frowned, but he nodded.

Midday wasn’t far off now. Rian entered the archive with Ransey. There were shelves of books everywhere, making a maze. The corridors of books were cold after the warm morning outside. Rian followed Ransey to the far side of the archive, to a wooden door set into the stone wall between the shelves. A spiral staircase curved upward on the other side.

At the top of the stairs was a narrow hall with a single door. Ransey knocked on the door. The man who opened it was well dressed, much like the nobles Rian had seen at the castle. His dark hair was neatly combed.

“You must be Ransey, the Sancta Knight,” the man said, excitement in his dark eyes. “I was surprised to hear you wanted to meet with me.” He opened the door further. “Come in.”

The office was big, with two huge windows on the other side of the thick wooden desk. Both windows were open to the warm morning air. The man sat back behind the desk. There were no other chairs in the room. A dark dagger rested on an ornate stand at the front edge of the desk. Rian knew it was a dagger like the last two as soon as he saw it.

The man glanced at the dagger through Ransey’s belt and smiled, as though sharing a joke. “I see you have been chosen to carry out Mortua’s will as well. Is that why you’ve come?”

“It is,” Ransey said.

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The man stood, coming around to the front of the desk. He sat on the front edge, blocking the dagger from sight. “Where are your group of followers located?”

“I have none,” Ransey said.

The man frowned. “Then you were only recently chosen? I could help you find somewhere to settle. I’m afraid Haren is already a bit crowded. Wels, the harbor of Acra, is a popular choice, but there is already a group there.”

“I have served my lady for many, many years,” Ransey said.

Ransey drew his sword swiftly, the blade shining with light. He ran the man through. The man gasped, his eyes wide. Ransey pulled his sword out roughly. The man fell to the floor in front of the desk. Had Ransey planned this from the start? He sheathed his sword calmly, the light going out again. He took the dagger from the stand on the desk and slid it through his belt, next to the other dagger.

Ransey knelt beside the man, leaning over him. There was a nasty, wet ripping sound. Rian heard chewing and was grateful Ransey was facing away from him. What was he doing? Ransey stood and turned to face Rian, with blood all over his face. Dark brown spread through his hair until there was no gray left. Ransey looked much younger than before, not any older than Eiva.

“Mortua has spoken,” Ransey said, grinning. “The flesh of the living and the dead will give me power through her magic, and it will give my lady strength.” He drew his sword again, running Rian through before he could move.

Everything spun and blurred. The pain was inescapable. Ransey pulled his glowing sword out, letting Rian fall to the ground, into the spreading puddle of the archivist’s blood. Ransey sheathed his sword, then walked around to the other side of the desk, out of sight. Rian heard nothing other than the chirping of birds outside. Had Ransey gone out the window? What had Mortua done to him?

Trivius stirred inside of Rian, forcing him to move. Rian tried not to move. He didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stop himself. Every movement pulled on his wound. Trivius pulled Rian closer to the archivist, who stared off to the side with empty eyes. He was dead. Trivius forced Rian to lean close to the wound on the archivist’s shoulder, where Ransey had bitten off a chunk of flesh.

Rian gagged, trying desperately to pull away. He couldn’t. Trivius forced him to drink the archivist’s blood. The pain of the wound faded. The wrongness of what Mortua had done to him faded as well, but not all the way. A thirst Rian wanted nothing to do with filled him. He moved to the archivist’s neck without Trivius doing anything. He bit into the archivist’s neck with sharp fangs and drank from him further.

When he realized what he was doing, Rian pulled back quickly. Trivius didn’t stop him. Rian stumbled to his feet, forcing himself to turn away from the archivist’s body. He had taken blood from the dead. So long as it wasn’t the living, he could come back from it and wouldn’t become like Arwel and Norris, but what Mortua had done was still there. He knew it was. Burial ground wouldn’t help him this time.

The rotting parts had healed, along with the wound from Ransey’s sword. Trivius felt strong inside of him, ready to take over at any moment. The thirst was already back, thirst for the blood of the living. Rian tried hard to ignore it. Trivius didn’t try again to take over, but maybe he was waiting.

“I have no more need to take over,” Trivius said, his voice clear in Rian’s head, as though Trivius was standing right next to him.

“I won’t free you,” Rian thought.

Trivius laughed, but said nothing more.

Rian thought of Eiva and Halbert waiting outside, then felt a deep shame. He hadn’t been able to stop Trivius, hadn’t been able to stop himself from drinking from the archivist.

“We both would have died if you hadn’t drank from him,” Trivius said in his mind.

If he went back out there, Eiva would be in danger from him. And Rian also just couldn’t face Eiva and Halbert. He headed for the window and looked out. It was a far drop, but not too far for him. He jumped down into the alleyway behind the archive, landing softly on his feet.

His clothes were covered in blood, along with other stains. Rian pulled his cloak closer around him, the black of the fabric hiding the worst of the stains. He made sure his hood was up, knowing his eyes would be red and glowing faintly, which would make it even harder to hide. He hurried away, leaving Veron.

The archivist had mentioned another group at the harbor village of Acra. Ransey would likely go there next, to Wels. Rian reached the village of Aster at night and didn’t dare stop. The entire village worshiped Mortua. He was surprised there wasn’t a cult there, but maybe the village was too loyal to Mortua to be led astray by whoever had created the daggers. Rian reached Jasper in the morning, a village on the plains of Acra.

The thirst was almost unbearable by then. He didn’t stop in the village, uncertain he could keep from attacking anyone. Trivius still hadn’t tried to take over again. Did he really believe Rian would free him if he just waited? At sunset Rian was in Isley, the main city of Acra. He didn’t stop there either, continuing toward Wels, reaching it late at night.

Would Ransey have gotten there yet? Rian didn’t know the full of what Mortua had done to Ransey. Would Ransey have had to stop and rest on the way to Wels? Rian didn’t dare go to the inn. He went to the graveyard and sat under a tree. The energy of burial ground felt even further away than before. Parts of him were rotting again. At least Trivius felt weaker from what Mortua had done, but Rian was getting weaker too.

In the morning he wandered the crowds, staying as far from the people as he could while still listening to what they were saying. What did he hope to find there? It wasn’t as though people would be talking about the cult. The cult would try to keep their presence a secret, so the knights wouldn’t put a stop to the sacrifices.

Rian fought the thirst, but it was even harder than before. He was about to go back to the graveyard when he saw it, a dark dagger hanging from a man’s belt. The man was standing outside the inn, watching the crowd. Rian had stopped when he saw the dagger. He could feel the dark enchantment even from there. The man was looking right at him. Rian turned and hurried away into the crowd. When he looked back, the man with the dagger had gone. Rian didn’t see him in the crowd.

For the rest of the day, Rian tried to find the man but didn’t see him anywhere. He went back to the graveyard when fighting the thirst became unbearable. He resumed his search in the morning, but not for long. There were too many people out. He went back to the graveyard and stayed there all day, unsure of what to do next. He couldn’t do this alone, not while risking attacking and taking the blood of the living. If he did that, there would be no way back, even if he was rid of what Mortua had done.

“The blood of the living would rid us of what Mortua has done,” Trivius said.

“I won’t do it,” Rian thought.

Trivius sighed. “Eventually you will. It’s that or die by Mortua’s hand. I know you cannot resist the thirst for much longer. I need only wait.”

Rian tried not to feel even more hopeless, but things had never looked so bleak. Was there a way out of this? Without him feeding on the living?