A Violet Fire (Vampires in Avignon #1) - Kelsey Quick Page 0,23

of edge. Although this one seems kind enough, I don’t trust the feeling. Memories of those horrible times at Nightingale flood back, cutting off my curiosity and erecting walls.

The physical punishment dealt to me by my class is a pretty terrible instance, but it was far from the only one. From making me the butt of their jokes, to cutting off my hair while I slept; from burning holes in my clothes to pushing me down stairwells, I’d decided that all human girls are vicious, especially when influenced by vampires. And until Savvy took a chance at her own isolation to be my friend, I had no reason to believe otherwise. Even in Avignon I was never permitted to be around anyone my age—perhaps for good reason. Either way, growing up in a small world of humans where beauty and subservience is everything, it’s tough to be the one with an axe to grind and uncultivated genetics.

I stand and meet my fate head on. I breathe away the last of the nausea and file in line to exit, mentally preparing myself to pay attention to everything that I see, hear, or feel from here on out. Every crack, cranny, or flaw in security at Zein’s castle, I need to find. Knowledge is key if I’m to escape—assuming Zein doesn’t chop off my head first. My eyes glaze over, and I shudder at the thought.

Glera is the first to exit the chariot, followed by the rest of the girls. Then it’s left to Katarii and Savvy staring at me expectantly, urging me to go first, their eyes filled with crippling uncertainty. I get it. Neither of them would be here without me, so it’s only natural.

Once outside, the three of us line up behind the other girls. We are in the middle of an open field, surrounded by forests, and nuzzled by shriveling grasses that are still damp from a recent rain. I exhale sharply from the brunt of the cool air. Everyone looks around, and all seem disappointed that the scenery hasn’t changed much from Nightingale to the Sabbanth Province. None of them would know, because none of them care about obtaining knowledge that’s off-limits, but the Southern and Western areas of Cain are forestry. They’d have to go East or North for a real scene change.

Ahead, a different, more regal-looking supply unit forces herself into the center of our attention. Although she wears the same intricate clothing as the one before, this woman has a gleam of royalty. Her bright, brownish-blond hair is more elaborate—pinned with jewels in an artistic fashion—and funnels into a taut widow’s peak. Her face is laden with copious amounts of makeup, while her body language renders her near-unapproachable. Pair all that with the bitter expression and raised nose, and it tells me everything. This human woman is the head of Zein’s supply units.

With disgust stamped across her face, she clings to a note of parchment, peering at each of us and scribbling upon it while silently mumbling to herself. It is during this time that Emi sneaks over to Savvy, pushing a ruby robe into hers and Katarii’s hands.

“To prevent others from asking questions,” she whispers, catching the three of us off-guard. She must already know of their situation. If so... then mine as well.

While throwing on her robe, Katarii nudges both me and Savvy, pointing toward the front of the chariot. Four massive, horse-like beasts stand in two rows of two, whinnying impatiently. It’s their added features that make them “horse-like.” Their snouts are scrunched up like a pig’s, but off-brown and slightly more wrinkled and unattractive. Their ears are long and wide, yet shriveled thin, and hairless enough to see contrasting, stringy veins throughout. Moonlight rays glimmer upon the beasts’ onyx eyes and rove over velvety broad shoulders and hunched backs. A pair of rumpled leathery wings that stretch farther than the length of the creature itself, jointed and webbed, sit above the ribcage of each—looking like those of a cave bat. Unlike any creature I have ever seen before.

Vampire soldiers, or servants I suppose, emerge from the surrounding woods and approach the horse-beasts with leather straps, untying them, readying them for the end of the night. The resonating voice of the head supply unit reclaims my attention.

“New supply units to Lord Anton Zein, please allow me to welcome you, wholeheartedly. My name is Anaya, number Z16948,” she states, straightening her back and firming her features. “First, we will enter our lord’s