he chewed the meat thoughtfully and then softly spat it out. ‘I don’t want to know what that was, do I?’ he said, after wiping his mouth.
Neferata chuckled. ‘No, likely not,’ she said.
Razek caught the edge of the fallen helmet and picked it up awkwardly, his hands trembling with fatigue. ‘This was my cousin’s.’
Neferata hesitated. Several homilies swept across her mind’s eye, pious sayings of comfort and kindness. But she also knew that they wouldn’t be accepted by the dour, proud creature sitting before her. What could she say, then? What words would put him at ease? ‘He died well,’ she said finally. ‘They all died well.’ Then, ‘They will not be forgotten.’
‘No, they won’t be.’ Razek tried to push himself back up, but he immediately slumped back with a groan, the helmet slipping from his hands. ‘I don’t think I’ll be so lucky,’ he hissed, eyes squeezed shut. He gripped his chest and his breath slid through his teeth in whistling gasps. ‘Feel like troll-leavings.’
Neferata leaned over him. ‘You were badly hurt. The quicker we get you to shelter, the quicker you’ll start to mend. Mourkain,’ she pressed. ‘Where is it?’
Razek looked at her, and the words dropped out of his lips before he realised that he was saying them. ‘North. There’s a pass, just over the next rise. It leads to Mourkain,’ he said. She gazed into his eyes and felt the jagged edge of his will brush against hers. It felt less like the mind of a man than she had expected. As she pressed her thoughts down on his, she felt like water cascading into the crevices of a mountain. Eventually she would wear him down, but it would take more time than she was comfortable with. His current state helped, the pain of his wounds widening the cracks in his determination.
‘Why were you going?’ she said.
‘I–’ Dwarf stubbornness asserted itself. He shook his head. ‘Dwarf business, eh?’ he grunted. ‘No offence, but it’s not manling business.’
‘Of course,’ she said. Neferata stroked his brow and leaned him back. If her strength surprised him, Razek gave no indication. His eyes fluttered in his head, and she said, ‘Sleep now. We will keep you safe, Razek Silverfoot. Sleep…’ He resisted at first, stubbornly, but then he collapsed back, his eyes closing as pain and exhaustion dragged him under.
As the dwarf passed into unconsciousness, Neferata stood and wiped her hand across her furs. ‘North then,’ she said, looking at the others.
‘And now that we know, what of him?’ Khaled said. He smiled cruelly. ‘A bit of sport, perhaps…’
‘No,’ Naaima said sharply.
Khaled looked at her and sneered. ‘Why? He’s no good to drink from according to you and he’s slowing us down!’
‘Quiet, Khaled. She is correct,’ Neferata said, making a chopping gesture. ‘We need him alive for now. We are in strange territory, and it would serve us well to have a guide, albeit an unwitting one.’
‘But–’ Khaled began.
‘She said no,’ Naaima snarled, and Khaled replied in kind, baring his fangs.
‘I want to hunt,’ he hissed.
‘Do you?’ Neferata said, the calm tone belying the fury that swept through her. ‘Have you learned nothing from our troubles in Bel Aliad?’ she continued, letting a snarl creep into her words. Khaled hesitated, his next words dying on his lips.
‘It wasn’t his fault!’ Anmar protested, rising to her brother’s defence. Neferata’s gaze swung to her and Anmar stutteringly added, ‘M-my lady.’ She and Khaled were more alike than simply in appearance. Both were slaves to impatience and impetuousness, though Anmar was usually self-aware enough to recognise it. Regardless, it did not stop her from leaping to her brother’s defence now.
Neferata felt a moment’s sympathy. Then her sudden backhand caught the other vampire across the jaw and threw her to the snow. ‘Must I discipline you as well as your brother?’ Neferata said.
Anmar cowered, covering her head with trembling hands. Neferata turned away, her fangs snapping in frustration, and her followers fell back. Anger radiated off her at the best of times, like the warning of a storm. Now, a rumble of thunder slipped through her mask, striking all of them to their very cores. She fostered informality among her followers, and allowed them the freedom of initiative. Every so often they forgot that she was a queen. On those occasions they needed to be reminded, and forcefully. Examples were best taken to heart when they were inflicted suddenly and swiftly.
‘But it was his fault, little leopard,’ Neferata purred, looking at Anmar, who crawled