nerves when we stop outside the entrance. Beyond this five-inch barrier awaits the five rulers of the Stratocracy of Cain. One, in particular, is Lord Anton Zein, of whom I haven’t seen in ten crippling years. He’s the one who not only stripped me from a premature death, but also stripped me of my freedom. The one solely responsible for my decaying quality of life, and yet so oddly tolerant of my rebellion—leaving me without the slightest clue how to rightly feel. But right now, all I want is for him to see how sickened I am by him and his kind; to feel this very real pain of being nothing more than an object used at someone else’s disposal. A unique sense of pride wells up inside of me and I decide. He’s taken everything else, I won’t let him take my pride.
Today, I control my fate.
No sooner do I obtain my resolve than do the doors open to welcome me to the dreaded Distribution Ceremony.
chapter 4
The vampire used one of his many robes to clean his sullied hand, never taking his eyes off of me. The long, stiff coat of dark, iridescent red swayed in the wind as he shifted his weight, showing an obvious intent to approach.
I turned and sprinted with everything I could muster. Only two steps and he stole me from the gracious earth, pulling me to his face. I wailed and kicked and screamed until he spoke softly. “Saath su veastra.”
I didn’t know vampires could speak without snarling, nor did I know what manner of language they spoke.
“Look at me,” he then said in French.
They can speak French?
I did, and his appearance shell-shocked me—not at all monster-like as I had always imagined. He looked more like the teenage boys from the marketplace than a monster.
“Interesting,” he muttered as I studied his cool, silvery eyes, which were one of the few inhuman things about him.
How were vampires able to be so horrible if they looked this normal? It made no sense to me.
“I won’t hurt you, don’t be afraid,” he assured me, pulling me out of my stupor. ”Do you have a name?”
How could I possibly trust a vampire with my name? The gentleness in his features gave me hope in the chaos. He was different than the rest, I could see it. I could swear on it.
“W-Wavorly,” I replied.
“Wavorly.” He nodded as he lowered me back to the ground. “Where are your parents?”
The look on my face must have been answer enough as his features softened further. “...Such an ill fate. Come with me, and I will see to your safety from here on out.”
Like I could believe him. I knew better than to trust a vampire. Castrel had always told me to never trust them—if I were to ever see them, although he was certain I never would.
But this vampire had to be different. He had to be if he wasn’t trying to take my blood, right? No one was left. Where would I go? For everything that just happened—for all the bloodshed witnessed and family lost—it was enough to not feel the need to run. At least, for now.
“Okay.”
✽✽✽
“Keep your eyes down and follow all instructions when they are given to you, are we clear?” the more serious of my two dorm mothers says to me.
I nod and lower my head as the doors before us open with a dreadful screech. We enter and in these last few moments of suffering suspense, I latch onto the sound of my still-very-much-alive heart. All noises from within the chamber cease, leaving me to grow uncomfortably self-aware amidst what I can only assume to be silent scrutiny.
They can see me now. All of them.
Even Zein.
I continue to slide my feet across the floor, one in front of the other, as difficult as balancing on a taut rope. My dorm mothers motion for me to stop and I exhale with relief. Although, standing perfectly still becomes the next great challenge.
The moon’s night-time reflection is the only trace of light that this room permits, only slightly, too, as the trees from outside the tall, stained glass windows absorb most of it. I try to focus on the shadows of rustling leaves that dance upon my feet, courtesy of the windows.
“Z29734...,” a familiar voice booms across the dark room. “...Please step forward and present your blood willingly to the honorable general of the Western Sabbanthian province, Lord Anton Zein,” the voice demands of me.
I recognize it now. That