I turned back to Ryllae.
“You’ll really kill the Nattmara?” she asked.
I smiled and answered honestly. “It would be my pleasure.”
Chapter Nine
I guessed it was sometime around midnight when I finally emerged from Ryllae’s home. I had already sensed what I would find outside, and my eyes confirmed it. Asher waited with Steifan, both leaning against a portion of wall near a merchant camp. Seeing me, they headed in my direction.
Ryllae walked out and stood beside me, following my gaze. “Oh, now I see why you don’t want to kill him.” Her mischievous smile said she knew exactly who Asher was to me, and she approved of what she saw, at least physically. I knew from our conversation she held no love for vampires, especially ancient ones.
“I never said I didn’t want to kill him,” I grumbled as the men neared. “Just that I’m not going to kill him quite yet.”
“You are an honest woman, Lyssandra. It would be a shame if you continued to go against your nature by lying to yourself.”
I frowned as Asher and Steifan reached us, wishing I had been a little less honest with the woman at my side. I’d felt I had owed it to her to answer her seemingly harmless questions when she was sharing with me the most closely guarded secret of her people.
Said secret wasn’t as complex as I had thought it would be. All it required was a resilient mind, an ancient chant, and enough power to back it up, which she swore I had, though I was doubtful. The jar of ointment she had given me would be supplementary. I could put it on my eyes and ears to block out visual and auditory glamour. The ointment was for Steifan too, but the bit of chanting and magic was just for me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Asher.
But he was looking at Ryllae. “Not a witch after all,” he said. “How interesting.”
Ryllae’s eyes flared at his words. Suddenly she seemed bigger than the tiny woman she was. She took a step toward Steifan. “You told him.”
Steifan held up his hands. “I did no such thing!”
A few onlookers still awake sitting around fires glanced our way like they might interfere.
“I can smell your blood,” Asher said lowly. “I have known your kind before. No one has betrayed your secret, nor will I.”
Ryllae stepped back like he had struck her. “My kind? Where? When?”
Sorrow stabbed my gut. I looked at Asher and saw that sorrow echoed in his expression. I stared at him, unsure where my sudden emotions had come from.
“It was many centuries ago,” he said to Ryllae. “I apologize if I gave you false hope.”
I moved to stand closer to Steifan, further from the vampire. Had I actually just felt his emotions? Karpov had once told me that I would grow closer to Asher the more I was around him. Was that happening now?
I didn’t have time to ask any questions, and now wasn’t the time for it regardless.
Ryllae took a moment to process Asher’s words. I wondered how long ago she had become separated from the last of her kin, and if any could possibly be alive.
She met my waiting gaze. “Remember what we discussed. Return to me when the Nattmara is dead.” With that she turned and went back into her home.
I looked to Asher. “You never answered my question. Why are you here?”
“I will tell you, but not here.” He gestured subtly to the men still watching us.
I met their waiting eyes, then nodded. The Seeing Sword had offered no warnings, the men meant us no harm, but it was best not to discuss anything near listening ears. The shock of feeling Asher’s emotions had made me careless. I wouldn’t let it happen again.
I looked around, then led the way toward the dark remains of the original keep. There were a few other fires in that direction, but more spread out. We should be able to find a private place to speak.
When the three of us were crowded into an alcove, far from any fires, I looked to Asher expectantly, angling my shoulder back so it wouldn’t be touching his.
He smiled, finding me amusing. “I believe I may have learned something that will help in solving your murder. I began my evening near the home of the man you had me steal the journal from. I witnessed a servant exchanging coin with an unsavory type in the dark shadows of the gardens.”
I crossed my arms, growing colder the longer I was away from Ryllae’s fire. “What sort of unsavory type?”
“The type that carries a sword, has many scars, and bathes little. I followed him as far as I could, then picked up his scent later on near the inn. I attempted to check on your belongings, but it seems someone else now occupies your room.”
I mulled over this new information before looking to Steifan. “You didn’t tell him?”
Steifan shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I wasn’t sure how much you wanted him to know.”
I smiled, appreciating the gesture. “I suppose we were wise to move the horses.”
Asher looked back and forth between us. “Would one of you mind telling me what you’re talking about?”
I almost didn’t want to tell him just to be petty, but he had brought us the information about the duke’s servant, presumably Vannier, paying someone who looked like a mercenary. “We were attacked this morning,” I explained. “A group of men was hired to kill us.”
He went utterly still. Only the tendrils of his white hair slightly shifting broke the illusion that he was suddenly a statue. “Someone was paid to kill you?” he asked slowly.
“Why do you seem so surprised?”
His expression returned in the form of a scowl. “I am not surprised, I am outraged. For someone to not only mean you harm, but to be cowardly enough to not enact it himself? If the man
