"IT WAS LATE afternoon of that first day when I met her.
"I'd washed the filth of the road away in the bathhouse, changed into my new gear. Black leather britches and tunic, heavy boots, knee-high and silver-heeled. The soles were embossed with the sevenstar, and I realized I'd leave the mark of the Martyrs wherever I walked. In casting off my old clothes, in some way I was casting off what I'd been. I'd no idea what I might become yet. But as I returned to Barracks, I found Abbot Khalid waiting, a smile in his eyes to match the one that haunted his cutthroat's face.
"'Come with me, Little Lion. I've a gift for you.'
"I followed the abbot to the gatehouse, marveling at the sheer size of the man. He was a mountain walking, long knotted braids trailing down his back like untamed serpents. The elevator swayed in the chill wind as we descended, and I watched him sidelong, eyes drifting to the horizontal scars bisecting his cheeks.
"'You're wondering how I got them,' he said, eyes on the cold valley below.
"'Apologies, Abbot,' I said, lowering my gaze. 'But Frère Greyhand … he said we palebloods heal as no ordinary men do. The night he took me from my village, I was cut so deep the knife struck bone. But now, there's barely even a mark.'
"'You shall heal all the faster as you grow, and your blood thickens. Though we do share some of the weaknesses of our accursed fathers—silver will cut us deeply, for example, and fire will leave its mark. But you are wondering what scarred me so?'
"I nodded mutely, meeting his green, kohled stare.
"'The dark is full of horrors, de León. And though coldbloods concern us most these nights, brothers of the Silver Order have hunted all manner of evil, and been hunted in kind.' He traced his scars. 'These were gifted to me by the claws of a duskdancer. A monster, accursed, who could take the form of beast and man. I sent her to the hell she deserved.' His scarred smile widened a fraction. 'But she refused to leave without a good-bye kiss.'
"We touched down, and with a soft chuckle, Khalid patted my shoulder and led me onward, a hundred questions brawling behind my teeth.
"The stable was carved within the heart of the Cathedral's pillar, supported by columns of dark rock. It stank inside, as stables do: horse and straw and shite. But ever since the night I'd drunk Ilsa's blood, I could swear my senses had grown sharper, and beneath the everyday stink, I caught a whiff of death. Decay.
"Two boys were saddling a shaggy chestnut mare near the entrance—dark-skinned Sūdhaemi lads like Khalid. The first was around my age, the other, perhaps a year younger. They were fit, dressed in homespun with dark curls cropped close to their scalps. By the shared hazel of their eyes and the cut of their chins, I guessed they were famille.
"'Fairdawning, Kaspar. Kaveh.' The abbot nodded to the older lad, then the younger beside him. 'This is Gabriel de León, a new recruit to the Order.'
"'Fairdawning, Gabriel,' Kaspar said, grasping my hand.
"'Godmorrow, Kaspar.' I nodded, looked to his brother. 'Kaveh?'
"'Apologies,' Kaspar said. 'My brother was born tongueless. He does not speak.'
"The younger lad stared at me as if in challenge, and I could guess why. In superstitious parts of the empire, such affliction might have been taken as the taint of witchery, the babe burned, his mother beside him. But my mama had taught me such thinking was folly, born only of fear. That the Almighty loved all his children, and that I should strive to do the same. And so, I offered my hand.
"'Well, I'm not that interesting to talk to anyway. Fairdawning, Kaveh.'
"The lad's scowl softened as I spoke, and as our palms met, his lips curled in a smile. Abbot Khalid grunted approval, called out across the stables in his warm baritone.
"'And a fairdawn to you also, Prioress Charlotte. Sisternovices.'
"Following the abbot's eyeline, I saw a half-dozen figures around a stack of feedbags—sisters from the Priory above, I realized. They were all clad in dove-white novice robes and coifs, save a severe-looking woman in a black habit, who stood where the others sat. She was older, so thin she was almost gaunt. Four long scars cut down and across her face—as if she'd been attacked by some wild animal.
"'Godmorrow, Abbot.' The woman glanced at her charges. 'Give blessing, girls.'
"'Godmorrow, Abbot Khalid,' the sisters sang, all in unison.
"'This is Gabriel de León,' Khalid said. 'A new son of the Ordo Argent.'
"I kept my head bowed out of respect, but looked the sisters over through my lashes. All were young. Sitting on the bags with blocks of paper on their laps, charcoal sticks in hand. They'd been drawing the horses, I realized. I noted a novice among them so slight she seemed almost a child, with big green eyes and freckled skin. And seated at their forefront, like an angel fallen to earth, was one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen."
Jean-François rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.
Gabriel looked up and scowled. "Problem?"
"I said nothing, Silversaint."
"I heard a distinct groan just now, coldblood."
"The wind, I assure you."
"Fuck off," Gabriel growled. "She was beautiful. Oh, perhaps not the kind you'd find hanging in a portrait gallery or gracing some rich bastard's arm. She wasn't a beauty you wrapped in silk or hid inside a golden bower. But I can still recall the sight of her that afternoon. All the years between then and now, and it seems only yesterday."
Gabriel fell so still he seemed a mirror to the vampire opposite. Even the monster seemed aware of the weight in the air, sitting patiently until the silversaint spoke again.
"She was older than me. Seventeen, at a guess. A beauty spot was placed as if by the Mothermaid herself, just to the right of her lips. One eyebrow was arched higher than the other, giving her a constant air of mild disdain. Her skin was milk; her cheek, the curve of a broken heart. There was no perfection to her. But her asymmetry commanded … fascination. She had the face of a half-heard whisper, of a secret unshared. She sat with a block of parchment in her lap, partway through a beautiful drawing of a big black gelding.
"Abbot Khalid looked at her work. It was hard to tell with his scars, but I realized he was genuinely smiling. 'You've a keen eye and a keener hand, Sisternovice.'
"The girl lowered her eyes. 'You honor me, Abbot.'
"''Tis the Almighty that guides our hands,' Prioress Charlotte said, with a disapproving glance at the young sister. 'We are merely his vessels.'
"The girl looked up to her prioress and nodded. 'Véris.'
"I knew I shouldn't gawp. On the road to San Michon, Greyhand had told me silversaints swore vows of celibacy, for fear we might perpetuate the evil of our birth and make more paleblood abominations like ourselves. After what I'd done to Ilsa, I confess that the thought sat well enough with me. I could still see the terror in her eyes if I tried, and the horror that I'd hurt her haunted me still. I'd no desire to touch another girl as long as I lived, and these weren't just girls, either—these were novices of the Silver Sorority. Soon to be married to God Himself.
"But still, something about this girl drew me in. As I watched, her eyes flickered up and met mine. I didn't look away. But surprisingly, neither did she.
"'Well, Godmorrow, godly daughters.' Khalid bowed. 'Mothermaid bless.'
"'Fairdawning, Abbot.' The prioress snapped her fingers. 'Back to work, girls.'
"I broke my stare, and the abbot clapped my shoulder, led me to the stable's heart. And all thoughts of raven-haired sisternovices fled my head at what I found there.
"A throng of horses waited in a wide pen. They were tundra ponies from Talhost—that hardy breed known as sosyas. Smaller than their Elidaeni cousins, sosyas have shaggy coats and stomachs of iron, ideally suited to the years of privation that followed daysdeath. Those bastards will chew on anything. I once knew a man who swore blind his sosya ate his fucking dog. These beasts seemed of the finest stock. But as I stood admiring them, again I caught that whiff of decay. And looking up, I finally discovered its source.
"'Mother and Maid…'
"Two wretched coldbloods were hanged from the ceiling. An older male, thin and rotten, and a boy, no older than I. Their skin was pallid, their clothes were rags, and their eyes burned with hunger and malevolence as they glared down at me.
"'Have no fear, de León,' Khalid said. 'Bound in silver, they're helpless as babes.'
"Looking close, I saw that the vampires were strung up by silver chains, swaying like ghastly chandeliers. The grooms and sisters and even the animals themselves seemed entirely unconcerned. And at last, I realized why these coldbloods were here.
"'You keep them for the horses…'
"'Just so,' the abbot nodded. 'God's creatures cannot abide the presence of monsters of the night. But these steeds are meant to bear us into battle against the dark. So, we expose them early and often, that they become accustomed to the evil of the deathless.' Khalid gave one of his scar-face smiles. 'You've a sharp mind, Little Lion.'
"I nodded, seeing the wisdom in it. The abbot handed me a few sugar cubes—a luxury since the crops had all failed, but one that San Michon could apparently still afford with the Empress's patronage. 'Take your pick, son.'
"'God's truth?'
"Khalid nodded. 'A gift, for your trials to come. And mind you choose well, lad. This horse will bear you into battle against all the horrors that call the dark home.'
"'But then … how should I decide?'
"'Trust your heart. You'll know the one.'
"Ma famille hadn't owned so much as a sheep when I was a lad. It was only the nobleborn who could dream of keeping beasts as fine as these. Marveling at the fortune that saw me gifted my own sword and steed on the same day, I stepped into the pen. And there in the throng, I found him. His stare was deep as midnight; his shaggy coat, darkest ebony. His mane was tied in thick plaits, his tail the same, switching from side to side as I approached. I realized he was the same gelding that the talented sisternovice had been drawing, and glancing in her direction, I found her dark eyes upon me again. She seemed to bristle as I closed in on the horse. But still, I did.
"'Hello, boy,' I murmured.
"He took the sugar cube I offered. Nickering, he nuzzled my face in search of more, and I stroked the shaggy satin of his cheek, laughing for joy."
Gabriel shook his head.
"Cynics say there's no such thing as love at first sight. But I loved that fucking horse the moment I met him. And feeding him another cube, I knew I'd made a friend for life.
"'What's your name?' I asked, bewildered at his beauty.
"'His name is Justice.'
"Turning, I saw the sisternovice had spoken, furious now. But before I could ask what I'd done to earn her ire, the prioress's voice cut the air. 'Sisternovice Astrid, be silent!'
"'I will not.' Her drawings spilled as the girl stood, and I saw every sketch was of this same horse. 'Why should this peasant have Justice's keeping? I—'
"The girl's words were cut off by the prioress's slap.
"'How dare you take tone with me,' Charlotte glowered. 'A sister of the Silver Priory owns no goods. She covets no earthly possession. And she obeys her betters.'
"'I am not a sister of the Silver Priory,' the girl spat, defiant.
"I winced as the prioress brought the girl to her knees with another slap, her scarred face twisting as she snarled, 'Continue with this insolence, and you never will be!'
"'Good! I never wanted to be here!'
"'That much is plain! But there are two places in this world for a bastard daughter, Astrid Rennier! Before God's altar on her knees, or in a brothel on her back!'
"An awful still settled over the stables. Astrid stared up at the prioress, furious. I looked to Khalid, but one glance told me he wouldn't intercede. So, fool that I was …
"'I beg pardon,' I said. 'If the horse belongs to the good demoiselle—'
"'She is no demoiselle,' the prioress spat. 'She is a sisternovice of the Silver Priory. She owns nothing, save the cloth on her back. She deserves nothing, save the punishment she is due. And unless you wish to share it, you would do well to mind your tongue.'
"'Stand down, de León,' Khalid commanded.
"I looked to the abbot, uncertain. The prioress reached into her sleeve and drew out a leather thong tipped with a short spur of iron.
"'Beg God's forgiveness,' she commanded the girl.
"The novice only glared. 'I beg for nothi—'
"Her words became a strangled cry as the thong landed across her back.
"'Beg it, whorechild!'
"The girl lifted her head and spat in fury. 'Fuck you.'
"A gasp rang out among the novices. I was astonished at the hate in the girl's eyes, bewildered at her stubbornness. But more and most, sickened at the violence being done to her. I knew what it was to suffer a beating like that. I knew the courage it took to bear it without a sound. The strap fell six more times, and still, the girl refused to yield. So finally, fearing she wouldn't beg until it killed her, I begged instead.
"'Prioress, stop, please! If punishment must be meted—'
"Strong fingers took hold of my arm, so hard I winced. Turning, I found Abbot Khalid behind me. 'This is not your place to speak, Initiate.'
"'Abbot, this is cruelty beyond—'
"His grip tightened, so hard I could feel my bones groaning. 'Not. Your. Place.'
"I felt a cur. My mouth gone sour and my belly turned cold. But with that crushing hold on my arm, and only a boy after all, I dared not speak again. Charlotte kept striking, the scars on her face turning a livid red with her rage. My stomach churned as those awful cracks rang in the stillness. And finally, like anyone would have, the girl broke.
"'Godsake, stop!'
"'Do you beg the Almighty's forgiveness, Astrid Rennier?'
"Crack.
"'Oui!'
"Crack.
"'Beg, then!'
"'I'm sorry!' she screamed. 'I beg God forgive me!'
"The prioress finally eased back, her voice like ice. 'Get up.'
"I looked on helpless as the weeping girl took a moment to gather her strength. And then she struggled upright, arms wrapped about her. I glanced among the sisternovices and saw fear of the prioress in their eyes. Fear of God above all. There was only one who seemed truly concerned—the tiny girl with green eyes and freckles, who looked at Astrid with the same pity I felt in my own heart. But Prioress Charlotte clearly felt none.
"'You will learn your place, whorechild. Do you hear me?'
"'O-oui, Prioress,' the girl whispered.
"'That goes for all of you!' Charlotte rounded on her charges, fervor flashing in her eyes. 'You are promised to God now. You will serve him and his Church as faithful wives should. Or you will answer to me, and hell itself!'
"The woman glowered at me as if inviting reply. But though the words roiled behind my teeth, Abbot Khalid still held my arm. And so, I stayed mute.
"'My apologies for the unseemly display, Abbot,' Charlotte said, lips thin.
"'Unnecessary, Prioress,' Khalid replied. 'The sheep that stray are prey for wolves.'
"'Just so.' The thin woman nodded curtly at the Testaments quote, turned to her novices. 'Come along then, girls. We shall spend the day in silent contemplation. Sisternovice Chloe, assist Sisternovice Astrid.'
"The small freckled girl nodded, helped her fellow novice collect her things. Astrid's hands were shaking. She met my eyes briefly—a clouded, fleeting glance stained with tears. It was only when they were out of sight that Khalid released his grip on my arm.
"'A strong will shall serve you well on the Hunt, young brother,' he said softly. 'And a good heart shall prove a shield against the perils of the dark. But if ever you question my orders again, I will drag you to the wheel and flay the skin right off your back. You are a servant of God. But you are my soldier now. Do you understand?'
"I looked into Khalid's eyes to see if he was angry, but his voice was matter-of-fact, his stare steady. The Abbot of the Ordo Argent didn't rage. Didn't raise his voice. It was at that moment I learned a true leader didn't need to.
"'Oui, Abbot,' I bowed.
"Khalid nodded, as if the matter were already forgotten. Looking to the gate the sisters had left by, he murmured, 'Prioress Charlotte is a godly woman, devoted to the Almighty and Mothermaid. And if she is of a temper this day, you must forgive her. Mass this eve will be painful for you, youngblood. But for most of us, it will be agony.'
"'Why? What happens at mass this evening?'
"'Someone dies, de León.'
"Khalid heaved a sigh, and stared out into the cold.
"'A good man dies.'"