Free Bloodtraitor by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes Page B

covering more than an acre, made of a combination of clear and stained glass laid out in dramatic panels, with occasional mesh windows to allow the passage of fresh air. It had been built by Midnight as part of their attempt to raise an Azteka bloodwitch—Vance—in such a beautiful cage that he never realized he was a slave. I suppressed a smile as I imagined seeing it demolished.
    The conversation continued along those lines for the next few minutes, with Jeshickah leveling ultimatums against several other members of Kendra’s line. I didn’t know all the names mentioned, but the overall message was clear:
someone
was fighting for leadership of the vampires. Jeshickah took the threat only seriously enough to make sure her people knew what they would be losing if they tried to defect.
    After Theron had been dismissed and Jeshickah had left, I stood. Carefully. I hadn’t lost much blood, but it still took a moment for my head to clear.
    I had so much I wanted to talk to Nathaniel about, and absolutely no way to contact him until he deigned to come find me. In the meantime, it was nearly sunrise, I was hungry and exhausted, and unlike Vance my occasional visits here did not involve luxurious accommodations.
    At least food was plentiful. I helped myself to stew and bread in the kitchen, unchallenged by any of the guards or the broken slaves, who moved around me with wary glances but would not speak unless spoken to first.
    I wondered if I should offer to bring the meals down to the west wing, come sundown. The vampires’ personal slaves and current projects would eat—or not, as the trainers chose. Ashley and Hara would need food. Bringing it to them might give me a chance to see—
    Leave that alone,
I tried to tell myself.
It’s not worth a beating, or worse, just to get a glimpse of them and make yourself feel like scum.
    Even so, my feet brought me to the west wing, where the mercenary who had met with Jeshickah earlier was just reaching his room.
    “Theron?” I said. My understanding was that Theron rarely dealt with slaves, and did not like to be addressed by a title.
    He nodded. “Jeshickah tells me you’re behind Midnight’s recent acquisition of ruling powers from the avians, Shantel, and serpiente.”
    “I wouldn’t put it quite that way.”
    “Jeshickah does have her own, unique outlook on the world,” the mercenary remarked as he unlocked the door to his room. “Come in.”
    I wasn’t sure if the words were meant to be an invitation or an order, but I obeyed, curious. Theron was supposedly a powerhouse of information, involved in everything. Did he know about the plot against Midnight already?
    “Congratulations on your sister’s rise to power,” Theron remarked as he removed his boots and unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt, making himself comfortable. “I hear that Aaron is pushing to have the coronation ceremony as soon as possible.”
    The words were spoken casually, but they had the potential to be a trap, so I was careful in my response.
    “I am glad Misha was able to persuade him,” I answered vaguely, wondering if plans had moved ahead since Misha sent me away or if Theron was commenting on the negotiations Aaron had already been making to ensure her safe rise to the throne.
    Moving on from that subject, Theron asked, “Can I get you anything to drink?”
    I nodded, mostly to be polite, and to conceal my unease and confusion. I could cover why I had walked into this room with the fact that he had
told
me to, so I was not worried that he could learn anything through my behavior thus far.
    “Obedient slave” was an easy role to play, if one had a mind to. People talked around and over slaves, or even at them, without much concern. But they did not usually talk
to
them, and the other thing I knew about Theron was that he did not bother with slaves. So what did he want with me?
    Did he suspect I was up to something? If so, did he have any idea how big a plot I was involved with? I