Blood Runner: Book Three of the Empress Saga

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The end was at last in sight, and Krayson wanted nothing more than for this nightmare of a contract to be over.

"I mean, what kind of monster could just ignore someone like that?"

Krayson felt the last thread of his patience snap. "Stow your thunder, woman."

Starra gave an affronted gasp. "Rude. I should think you'd be in better spirits."

"Is that so?" Krayson growled. He shot a pointed look towards the Emerald Knight. "We went through all that just to be prisoners again."

"Nonsense," Starra scoffed. "Try to look at it from their perspective, Brother Joshuan."

"I have. The only reason we're not in chains is because they don't have any."

Starra sighed and looked to the paladin. "You see what I've been putting up with?"

Their overseer grunted, noncommittal.

"Let me guess," Starra mused while looking the Altieri man over. She tapped a finger to her chin as if pondering the puzzle of his existence. "Ah, you must be dear Rav's husband. Hugin, Lord of Emeralds, and Nooka the Artificer. Is that right?"

The paladin blinked in surprise. "You know Rav?"

"Certainly. Spent the past few hours together. The bonds of fighting side by side and all that. Altieri knights hold that sort of thing sacred, if I'm not mistaken." She walked closer to his side and patted his arm. "It must be hard for both of you to be away from Veronika, but you mustn't worry. I'm certain Lord Trent is keeping her busy with her squire duties."

The Artificer covered his mouth to hold back an amused snort.

Krayson rubbed his forehead tiredly. Were he in Lord Hugin's place, he thought he might take extreme issue with a vampire casually mentioning she knew his daughter's name and what she was doing. It would be hard to see it as anything other than a veiled threat.

Others weren't so prudent. Inside of five minutes, Starra had Hugin and Nooka in the palm of her hand, laughing and carrying on. She even had the armsmen charmed by her wiles. Had Krayson not been standing close enough to feel the absence of spell echoes, he'd have suspected enchantment spells were involved. Thunders, but half the men were blushing when they looked at her.

How's she do that? What does she do that makes people... like her?

It didn't seem right. Starra was as much of a blood mage as Krayson was, and he wagered she had far more blood on her hands than he did. Why hadn't she lost the same things he had? If he were to posit a guess, it would be that her shifter nature somehow protected her imprint. Then again, her shifter nature should have made her a monster to begin with.

Krayson continued to fume over it, keeping his silence. As they went on, he saw more humans and dragons take note of their passing— saw them nod and whisper among themselves. They'd see him, see his red half-robe and red eyes, and try to pretend he wasn't there if they didn't glare with outright hostility. Stranger still were the goblins among them. The fey sniffed the air in Krayson's direction before getting odd looks in their overlarge eyes. Once or twice, Krayson heard them mutter "blood-scented" under their breaths.

It was now more than two hours since his arrival in Temradel, well after dark, and Krayson had grown tired of walking. He was almost ready to make a scene and demand to be taken to the Dragon Empress when one of the goblins ran up to their group.

"Death Fire asks of Red Voice," the fey said to Hugin. "Asks if all is white."

Krayson blinked, uncomprehending.