mean big changes for Cain, and even the supply units once Zein is called to the battlefield. But as soon as the question left my mouth, I knew it was a mistake.
He offers no immediate response. The atmosphere grows stale and Zein’s form, tense.
“You know of our political standings with Abethos?” he questions eventually, ashen eyes shifting to mine, filling with intrigue.
I don’t respond, but it’s obvious I know more than I should. We don’t learn things like politics, borderlands, and other countries in supply unit schools. I fidget with the crafted edge of the ivory plate.
”Interesting.” He smirks. “What exactly do you know?”
I numbly answer his question, not really sure how the truth will play out for me in this situation.
“I know that Abethos is the vampire nation on the Western side of Cain… and that the Sabbanth Province—your province—is only about twenty kilometers from the border.” I pause to grace him with a goading stare. “And that Cain and Abethos are enemies because of their disagreements on the survival of the human race.”
It’s true, from what I’ve read. Cain fights for a world of in-bred humans as blood slaves while Abethos fights for treaty-based pacts with human nations, requiring blood as taxes and such. I’d rather be in Abethos, and I’m sure Zein realizes that from the look splayed across my face. The silence is deafening and his expression, unclear. It’s understandable that he’d be angry, since Nightingale’s code promises to not teach supply units anything unnecessary—but they didn’t; I taught myself to read in Acclevin. Translation dictionaries lined the back room of our language professor’s office, who, like many other vampires, assumed that all humans were brainwashed blood sacs who didn’t have minds of their own. He never locked his office.
I tilt my chin up at Zein. As they say, the more you know, the more powerful you are, and I’m sure this vampire’s smart enough to know I learned it all on my own. His eyes narrow with amusement.
“Impressive,” he admits. “Although wrong. Our diplomacy hinges on matters much heavier than the lives of humans.”
“Oh, right.” I nod a couple of times, dwelling on the insinuation. “As long as the blood well doesn’t dry up, who cares, right?”
He glares at me, muttering, “I did not mean it that way.”
“You may have a point, though,” I say, “Maybe I should just run away then since the lives of my friends and I are so lacking weight.”
He makes a noise. A chuckle?
“Maybe I really should break your legs, then.” He throws back, and I nearly laugh.
“…Don’t do that, I like to run. And not just away.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “You’re a strange one. A human telling me not to do something.”
The hairs bristle along my arms and I think of the lives of Savvy, Katarii, and now—my legs. I very well may be crossing too many lines, but then again… I don’t think Zein cares too much. In fact, he seems to be having fun with it.
An idea hits me.
“You can make it up to me, though,” I remark. “You know, for… hurting my feelings about how worthless my life is, or for threatening the safety of my legs, or whatever.”
“Oh?” He turns and examines me, as if impressed by the courage coating my tongue. “Go on. Do tell me how your master can better serve you.”
I stifle a roll of the eyes, but decide to be grateful nonetheless.
“Could you tell me about that night? The one you found me, I mean.”
He just stares at me, so I include reasoning. “I know you must remember it, because you remembered my name.”
There’s so much more that I want to ask—much more that I want to accuse him of—but I settle on this for now. His gaze shifts from the curve of my brow to the edge of the room, the displaced playfulness slowly ebbing away. The need to explain grips me after a round of hollow, unforgiving silence—as if he’s considering calling up Savvy right now to behead her in front of me.
“Please,” I whisper. “I need to know.”
“And what exactly do you need to know about it?”
“Why it happened.” I decide to dive right in. “Isn’t it against the law for vampires to attack and kill humans?”
He keeps his eyes averted as he answers. “In Cain, yes, but not across the borders. I found you in a human colony.”
“The human colony of Avignon,” I say. “In France.”
“...I’m surprised you remember.”
Vampires must think humans have a brain the