Velador pretended to be versed in vampire politics after I recapitulated what transpired by simply stating, “Then it sounds like we have an ally in the east.”

“For now,” I mumbled, knowing full well that this Ardoril could be dead before the next moonrise.

“Does the wound hurt?” he asked me and pointed while we rode alongside each other.

“I’ll manage,” I replied, once again omitting some details that I’ll have to replenish the blood loss quite ...