Vero felt an arm around her. She turned over and rested her head against a man’s shoulder. She could smell that it was Jean. They were both still coated in sweat and Vero felt a shiver.

  “I love you.” She was not sure which one of them had said it.

  “I’m dreaming again, aren’t I?”

  “No, I believe I’m actually the one dreaming.”

  Vero felt her lips moving, but she could not hear herself. She began to cry.

  “What’s wrong, cherie?”

  When she tried to reply she spoke, but had no air to make herself heard. Even so, Jean was able to understand her perfectly. I’m frightened.

  “But why?”

  “I think I’m dead. I’m afraid that when I wake up there won’t be anything. That I’ll just be gone.”

  “Why not stay here with me like this forever? You don’t ever have to wake up- if you chose not to.”

  It would be so simple to stay there forever. To never feel pain or fear again. So many were waiting for her there.

  Not Jean, not yet. Not Dora.

  It was no longer Jean holding her, but Mama. Virgil was there, Father, and Antoinette. To wake was to return to the living world. And what was living but the slow accumulation of pain and constant fear of death. Better to sleep like this forever. Where she was loved.

  Yes, loved.

  She felt his tongue on her neck.

  I’m here for you too, girl. Never forget that.

  Vero felt terror. Genuine unholy terror. Her body realized in a way her rational mind could neither express nor comprehend, that she was dying.

  “You’ve done enough,” said Mama. “Rest now, here with me.”

  And here with me. Lie still just as you always did when I told you to. Just lie still and accept what’s been done to you.

  “Why did you leave me, Vero?” asked Antoinette. “You won’t leave me alone again, will you?”

  You were too weak to ever bear the legacy of the ancient dragon-slayers. You’re no Aaja the huntress. That’s why I used you like a whore. That’s all you’ve ever been good for.

  “Be still,” said Father. “It’s enough. I stayed with your mother to be done with war and killing. I would have done anything to shield you from that pain. Be still, and let it be over at last.”

  Life took your Mama away from you. It punted you about a bit, and now it’s done with you. Just lie here like that limp rag doll Mama made for you. The one you threw down on the ground the day you left. Lay there like a doll and accept what’s been done to you. Accept what’s happening to you even now. Just let it happen. It hurts so much less when you don’t fight it.

  “I wished with all my power that you would never see such savagery as I saw, nor feel such pain as I felt when the griffon tore into me.” Virgil’s voice was pleading. “Please, just stay here with me where it’s safe.”

  Safe from everything. Safe from the future. Safe from joy, safe from exertion, safe from wonder. Safe from those bastards who did this to you, those whoresons who are sitting chuckling to themselves even now, laughing at how well their schemes have developed; they always knew you were too weak to survive their plots, after all.

  Safe from Jean. Safe from Dora.

  “Vero,” said Mama. “The future is terrible for you, so terrible. Stay here. You must stay here so I can protect you. Only death and worse than death is waiting for you in the living world. Stay here in the dream, where I can hold you forever.”

  Lie there like the rag doll.

  No. That was the ultimate cowardice, and futile cowardice at that. No matter how harsh the truth was, she would rather face it than slip placidly into a soft oblivion.

  You’re too weak to fight. Too weak! Does that make you mad? Don’t glower at me with fierce eyes and lie there like a doll! Stand up and fight! Make me shut my mouth if you don’t like it! I’ll knock you down again and again, because you’re weak!

  You don’t like to hear that? You’re weak! Too weak to survive. That’s why you’re there, useless on the ground. Eventually the body reaches its limit and it fails. You’re just a stupid useless farm girl, with a worthless dead family no one ever gave a damn about, who’s so weak she lies there crying because she can’t stand up and fight.

  If you don’t want to hear that, then stand up and take another beating. Stand up, godsdamn you! I want to knock you down again. Useless girl! Stand up and fight!

  Fight me! Godsdamnit! Fight!

  Vero was surprised to wake up alive. It was worrying how frequent that had become. She could only be surprised so often. Her body did not feel injured, but her head pounded. She opened her eyes.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  She was in the private room of the church in the village; she could see Isolde’s ineffectual wards scrawled across the walls. Heward was seated beside her. He was reading silently from a prayer book; it was Mama’s and it made her feel warm to see it.

  Against every odd, she was still alive.

  “I’m often surprised by the places where I wake up.” He jumped at the sound of her voice. “I suppose waking beside a handsome knight is one of the finer places I might find myself.”

  Heward recited a prayer in Liturgical- not from the book, which he had already snapped shut. He placed it on the bed beside her on top of others and smiled, a thing she could never recall having seen before. “The term ‘knight of the temple’ is a metaphor, my Lady. A templar holds no true rank, except that of monk.”

  “I notice you don’t dispute my use of the term ‘handsome’.”

  “I have… adapted myself, to your jests-” He cleared his throat. “-my Lady.”

  “You have more flexibility than I had given you credit for.”

  “You forget that I adhere to a faith with two goddesses. I spent some years standing watch over a cathedral school for artists. Templars who were too stiff there often became the target of… games. And I have also been told that some beautiful young women take particular freedom when teasing monks- because they know that nothing can ever come of it.”

  “Oh? I believe I’ve heard stories about the sorts of nothings your monastic brothers sometimes get up to with beautiful women.”

  “A monk who cannot live up to the oaths he has taken is no true monk. Although I notice you don’t dispute my use of the term ‘beautiful’.”

  Vero felt herself flush. “It’s impolite to turn a woman’s own games against her.”

  His smile broadened. “As you say, my Lady. You’ve lost a tremendous amount a blood, let me fetch you some soup. The salty broth will help restore your humors.”

  Now that he had mentioned food Vero could feel a gnawing in her stomach. “That would be very welcome, brother. My thanks.”

  “We didn’t know when you would wake, it will be a moment to heat it for you. Take some rest until then.”

  Vero nodded and closed her eyes. “As you say.”

  She tried to sleep again, but now that she was awake, she was sure it would be hours before she could fall back asleep. When she tried to sit up her vision went dark, and she decided not to try that again.

  With nothing else to do, she checked herself for injuries. A few bruises, bandages covered her right leg and both wrists. There were no broken bones. Excellent conditions to have come through all the madness she endured in.

  Heward was there all through her convalescence. Vero needed to remind herself many times that he had taken vows it would be impious of her to tempt him into breaking. He sat by her bed and they discussed many things together.

  Vero was surprised to learn that Elizaveta had honored their bargain and left her father’s journals. She soon discovered from Heward that it was something of a poisoned chalice. They were all written in that strange crossbreed between archaic Imperial and Sylvan Elizaveta used for her spellwork.

  The vampyress included a list of those words she knew by rote, but it was a very scarce dictionary. Heward had since added two speculative translations of single words he believed he recognized, but it was clear they had much work to do to read anything. The slow translation work was not so tedious with an able partner, and they also spoke of other things when it did begin to drive one of them mad.

  She was surprised to learn that a templar held such materialist interpretations of the scriptures as he did. But she supposed such rationalist appeals, as wizards often made for a secular interpretation of occult science, must hold greater sway with followers of the Learning Goddess.

  Vero held somewhat rationalist views on the matter as well, only she felt guilty for them. It was simply a necessity of the hunt that she prayed to any god her spellcraft required of her.

  She also remembered the sensation of Luna’s light shining down on her. She knew the feel of Mother Luna’s love, and there was no rational or materialist answer for that. Even if the moon in the sky was only a stone, as some astrologists claimed.

  Something must lay behind that stone. How could a stone in aether cause the tides to change? Or cause a lycanthrope to alter its shape? Or cause a woman’s womb to bleed, then become fertile again?

  Heward confessed that he could answer none of those questions. Then reminded her that he himself was not an atheist.

  They discussed the prayers they knew, and what sciences they had studied. Vero tried not to be offended at how surprised he was by the depth of her knowledge. The sting of it was lessened by the earnest and eager joy he took in discoursing on such topics with her.

  Pentarch sometimes came in and spoke with her as well, but he was also still recuperating from his own injuries. All he ever did was ask her about what had happened while she was alone in the fortress. He would ask her the same questions again and again until Heward escorted him out.

  If he was trying to catch her in a lie, then he would need to do better than that. Vero never told him anything untruthful. She had already carefully compartmentalized those things he did not need to know, and simply omitted them.

  She told him everything important, but he did not need to receive the intimate details. Any more than Heward needed to know the things she fantasized about the templar doing to her before she slept.

  Alexius had been lost deep in meditation since her rescue; he interacted with no one and nothing. He ate only bread and water at meal time.

  Isolde came to visit when she learned that Vero was well. She showed more tenderness than Vero expected.

  She also forgot how beautiful Isolde was. Most of it was probably the results of cosmetics and illusory magic, but Vero refused to let that stop her from drinking in the sight. Nor did she let it stop her from dreaming about pulling that luscious body out of its dress. About pushing the sorceress down under her. Listening to her complaints turns to muffled moans as Vero put that mouth of hers to better use.

  In the real world, Isolde only bent forward to kiss her cheek, but Vero put her lips out at the last moment to have a proper kiss.

  Isolde obliged her the kiss. But she smiled and backed away when Vero tried to follow that by giving her a proper feel up. “I suspected you had some azure tendencies, but this isn’t the time.”

  “It can always be the time if we go quick enough. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied too; I know how to do it just right.”

  “A tempting offer, but one I must decline. Perhaps some other time, when you can develop a more romantic approach to take.”

  Vero’s humors were in a tumult after going back onto her slayer infusions. She intended to have strong words with Iosephus about the formulae he used. She was no ascetic left to her own devises, but taking his treatments was making her downright wanton. Although she could not deny that they also sped her recovery.

  She still played at needing nursemaid-ing longer than necessary, both because she liked the attentive care it made Heward pay to her, but also because she was in no hurry to leave. There was plenty of time before the end of spring to return to Dora. She had already seen an eclipse before; it was breathtaking, but she was in no rush to return to the slayer fortress just for their observatory. She would rather have viewed it with that vampyress in her castle.

  Vero wondered if Heward would return with them, or if he would wish to stay on this side of the mountains. She flashed her eyes at him many times so he would wish to remain near her, but she said nothing on the subject directly, so he could make up his own mind.

  When he asked if he could accompany her, she agreed at once and kissed his cheeks. It scared her how close she came to whispering ‘I love you.’

  Vero was glad she did not. It would have set a very dangerous course of events into action, and this was not the time for that.

  If you're in a position to support my work financially, I have a Uncut versions of all publicly released chapters are available there at the free membership tier, as well as pieces of flash fiction not available here on Royal Road. The early chapter reward tier list is hidden in spoiler text:

  $3 - 5 early chapters, this tier is available as a one week free trial

  $5 - 10 early chapters

  $7 - 15 early chapters

  $10 - 20 early chapters

  $15 - 30 early chapters + the exclusive short stories

  If you've enjoyed this book you can also leave a rating, review, follow, and/or favorite. According to my analytics, most of you aren't members of Royal Road, but even without an account, you can still support my work just by sharing, boosting, and recommending this story to anyone you think may enjoy it. I have listings on and

  Also find me on and .

  Thanks for reading!