And on the chair, was Kem.
His head was bowed, but I would know the dark mass of curls anywhere. He was shrouded in a massive cloak, and as I ran towards him, I saw it was a bear pelt. He shifted, the whites of his eyes showing as his head rolled, and he moaned as I raised his chin, cowering away from me.
‘Kem?’ I searched his face for signs of sickness, of strigoi paleness. But though he was paler, starved of sun, he was warm. He was not a monster. He was a boy, my brother, and I took him into my arms and wept.
‘Lillai?’ his voice was slurred. Was he drugged? There were so many things I did not understand, not least Alina’s claim that it had been Kizzy who chose him – chose him for what? – but I knew I had to get him away as fast as possible.
‘Yes, Kem. I’m here.’ I held him tightly, whispering his name again and again, to make him solid, make him real.
A tear rolled down his cheek, and I brushed it away though they kept streaming down my own cheeks. Fen was working on the ties binding him to the chair, and as soon as he was free, Kem collapsed forwards, his thin frame hitting mine like a dead weight. He had been drugged, but why? Out of pity for what awaited him?
‘Lil,’ he slurred. ‘Lil, Kizzy …’
‘Hush,’ I said, but Fen pressed close.
‘Kizzy what?’ he said. I tried to push him away, but Fen would not be moved. ‘What about Kizzy, Kem?’
‘He … he …’ Kem dissolved into sobs.
‘Enough,’ I hissed at Fen. My brother, my baby brother was alive and in my arms, and I did not want to let go. But I knew I must. ‘Mira, take him.’
‘What are you going to do?’ she said, holding out her arms.
‘I’m going to buy you time.’
‘Time for what?’ Mira frowned, and I had to look away from her eyes.
Those grey eyes, storm clouds and silver-quick water and moonlight. I had learned them better than my own face, and I knew to look at them now would break what resolve I had left.
‘For you to get away.’ I hurried on before she could interrupt. ‘Take Kem, and Alina and her brothers. Hide in the church. Don’t come out until the sun is up, and then get away. You, too,’ I said to Fen. ‘There’s no point us all staying.’
Fen crossed his arms. ‘I came for Kizzy. I’ll stay.’ I could tell he was decided.
‘Please, Mira.’ I forced myself to look at her. ‘Take him. He’s a piece of my heart. If anything more happens to him …’
‘And what about me,’ she whispered. ‘What about the piece you have of my heart?’
I leant my forehead against hers. ‘I’ll find you. I will.’
‘Please,’ she said, a gentle sadness in her voice. ‘Don’t make any more promises.’
She took Kem gently from me, scooping him into her arms even as I spoke.
‘He likes fiddleheads,’ I said. ‘And is scared of the dark. And boars. And most things, actually, and …’
‘He’ll be safe,’ said Mira, stopping up my mouth with her finger.
I nodded, hiccupping.
‘End this,’ she said, and held out her stake to me, dark with the innocent father’s blood. ‘If you must stay, end it, in whatever way you can.’
Fen held out his lighting flint to her. ‘So you can build a fire. Stay off the path.’
She took it, then brought her lips to my ear and whispered something.
And then she was gone, my brother limp in her arms. I realised then that I should have said it back, should have told her I loved her too.
I realised it to be true, because my heart was breaking. Fen laid a hand on my arm, and I knew that he knew.
Soon enough it would be nightfall, and too soon we would discover whatever fate my brother had so narrowly avoided.
We formed a plan of sorts. There was some struggle between Fen and me as to who would take Kem’s place, but though Fen was taller I could not deny his short dark hair made a more convincing swap. In my vision, I had been at the top of the room, not the centre, and I supposed that as it had gotten us this far, we should stick to what I had seen.
I wrapped the ties around his hands, without binding them, and slid the stake into his hands.
He gripped it tightly, and I bent down and kissed his cheek. Whatever awaited him, I knew he would meet it bravely, but still my stomach churned with guilt that I had not convinced him to go. I was less certain than ever that either of us would survive the night.
I hid behind one of the thick black drapes behind the top table, and waited. Looking up, I could watch the sky darken, but even without seeing the night fall, I knew when the strigoi began to stir.
Because as they awoke, they called to one another, in voices that were nearly song, nearly lovely, but they chilled my blood in the same way a wolf’s keen does.
Through a gap in the curtains, I watched the hall fill with them. All were dressed in finery, glinting gold and black, glimmering like scales. They were not only men, like in Boyar Valcar’s hall, but women too, shining like ghosts. Each set a bone-white goblet before them, but there were no plates, no knives. I felt like I was dreaming and pinched myself to check I was not.
The Dragon came in last.
The whole room stilled, as if suspended in ice. The skin on my arms prickled with tiny knives of cold, as though his mere presence had sucked the life from my flesh. I did not want to look upon him, but I could not look away.
He was tall, taller than Tamás, taller than Calazan. Unnaturally tall, a head higher than any of his guests. The planes of his face were hewn as though from white marble, shining so in the candlelight that his features seemed blurred.
If the other men at the tables were finely attired, it was nothing compared to him. He wore a fur of black that seemed brown beside his true-black hair. He had rings on every finger. A ruby the size of an acorn sat in the centre of one: in another, an opal gleamed milkily, like a rheumy eye. And as he drew close, so close that I could have reached out and brushed his blue-dark hair, I saw he was handsome too. His features were wolfish, vicious, but finer than any man’s I’d seen. His eyes gleamed red as the ruby on his finger.
He was repulsive, and magnetic, and elegant. I longed to plunge Mira’s stake into his heart. But we were close, so close to finding out Kizzy’s fate, and so our own. His final death could wait.
The hushed room fell into deeper stillness. Dracul clapped his hands, and his rings lent the sound an unnatural click. The doors at the back of the room opened, and Kizzy and Albu entered, to languid applause.
My broken heart shattered.
Kizzy was still dark, still beautiful, but her skin shone with an unnatural light, as though she were glazed with sweat. Her eyes were red as blood.
I think some small part of me had held hope until then, that Tamás had been mistaken, but now all hope died. I should leap out, kill the Dragon, tell Fen to run. But I felt powerless as I watched my sister and Mamă’s bear approaching Fen’s chair. He would never fight his way out alive. There must be a hundred strigoi in here.
I was caught by indecision. What choice should I make, when the deathless sat at the tables before me? Is this what Mamă had wanted, what she had meant by her sending me a vision? I wanted to weep as Kizzy passed Fen, to drop to my knees and howl. But I only watched as Kizzy took up Albu’s paws and began to dance to invisible music.