Size matters. At least sometimes. In terms of blood volume, a three-metre stall bear was a feast — his massive head pierced by my sword had spilled enough barely tolerable blood to sate my thirst, if only temporarily. For the first time since fully awakening my vampirism, I felt the gnawing thirst ease, even as I drank the foul, metallic liquid. Animal blood tasted worse than old, moldy leather—far more revolting than I remembered—but it was all I had. Human blood was still off limits in large amounts, and so I had to endure this bitter compromise.

  Clutching a small keepsake from the beast, I moved cautiously toward the campfire I’d spotted flickering on the elven side of the riverbank.

  “RARW!” I jumped out of the bushes ten minutes later, swiping a playful little claw at Tom’s arm. He yelped in surprise and stumbled back, his face paling as I burst out laughing at his reaction.

  “Fuck, Lucinda. What the hell has gotten into you?” he groaned, running a hand through his hair.

  “A lot of blood,” I said with a grin, wiping the grime off my face. “I need a towel and some water.”

  “You need a proper bath the way you look,” he muttered, but I held him with a sharp look until he sighed and shuffled off to gather the items. He even brought a fresh dress.

  Without a word, I slipped silently into the woods, the water in the bucket turning an ominous red by the time I finished cleaning. Dumping the bloody water far from camp, I returned to find the knights fully awake, standing in crisp formation.

  “What are your orders, Miss?” asked the apparent leader, voice formal but tinged with unease.

  “Eww… creepy,” I said with a smirk. “Don’t call me Miss. Call me boss or something. You too, Tom. Time you realized who’s in charge here.”

  “For real?” Tom’s grin faltered, and before he could respond, my blade was already at his throat. He froze, swallowing hard, then forced out, “Boss.”

  “Alright, listen up. Tomorrow, about half an hour after we cross the bridge, you will destroy our supplies. These worms—these monsters—they die when they can’t feed their hosts. This is our last shot.” I let my words hang in the tense air. “Pack your things. We’re heading back to the main army, but no one’s allowed to separate from me or talk to anyone else.”

  I waited, but they didn’t move—eyes locked on me as if waiting for something more.

  “Choo choo?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

  That finally broke the tension, and they started packing with renewed urgency. I climbed into the carriage alongside Tom, who looked as confused as ever. Whatever was running through his mind, it was clear he was still trying to wrap his head around the sudden shift in power.

  “They suspect you’re a vampire and still follow you,” Tom muttered from the shadows of the dark carriage.

  “So what?” I replied, my tone flat, unsure if this was meant as a threat or a warning.

  “They’ll die once they set the wrong cart on fire,” he whispered, voice heavy with concern.

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  I let out a dry chuckle. “Colour me surprised.” Already, boredom crept into my veins, dragging the conversation down a path I had little patience for.

  “They could be useful to you, you know,” Tom said, his voice taking on a slightly reproachful edge. “They’re good people. No reason to waste their potential on a suicide mission. If you manage to kill this worm, they’ll follow you wherever you go—loyal, and willing.”

  He was wrong. These knights wouldn’t commit atrocities. Their hearts were too pure, their lines too firmly drawn. They were not soldiers of chaos.

  I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow in mild amusement. Honestly, I expected more from him than this simplistic loyalty spiel. With a shrug, I closed my eyes and let my head rest against the cold wooden wall of the carriage.

  “Lucinda... boss, I need to know what you’re planning,” Tom said, voice softening, almost pleading.

  One eye cracked open, peering at him through slitted lashes before I shut it again.

  “A wise queen never reveals too much, nor too little,” I said, the velvet curtains muffling the wood behind me as I leaned deeper into the corner. “If you want to be useful, you’ll have to understand how I think first. And, honestly? You’re a long way from that.”

  He swallowed hard. “It’s damn hard to understand a sociopath, psychopath, vampire, and cruel person all rolled into one,” he murmured, a hint of awe in his tone.

  I smiled darkly at his assessment, not entirely inaccurate. “You missed something.”

  Tom blinked, confused.

  “Paedophile,” I said bitterly.

  He recoiled slightly. “I didn’t want to say it ...”

  “Ouch,” I replied, voice cold but amused. “But that’s where you’re wrong. Sure, I like children—but not like you think. Ever heard the term 'seed of life'?”

  “Never,” he said firmly, eyes narrowing.

  I shrugged and opened my eye again, watching carefully as a flicker passed over his soul. Before my words, it had been a calm blue. Now, it shifted to a quiet blue—like the surface of a still lake disturbed by a single, small stone.

  “Disappointing,” I whispered, savoring the subtle change.

  “I am always disappointing, am I not?” Tom’s voice carried a hint of resignation, almost challenging.

  “True,” I said simply, closing my eyes once more.

  Disappointing—yes, so far. But not without potential. I’d already glimpsed the spark within him, though I hadn’t yet figured out how to wield it. The battlefield might not be his true arena; perhaps his talents leaned toward bureaucracy or subtle manipulation instead of swordplay. That, at least, gave me a thread to pull.

  Ten minutes later, the carriage rolled along the riverbank once more, the moon casting pale light on the dark water. When we reached the main camp, sentries stepped forward, their suspicion immediate. They questioned us sharply, voices low and guarded, but their tone shifted when they saw me sitting inside the carriage. Both guards who inspected us still bore the faint glow of their souls, a dangerous indication that word of me had already seeped through the ranks.

  We found a quiet, isolated spot well away from the hustle of the main camp and set up our own little fortress. It was crucial to keep my plans under lock and key—to prevent rumors from spiraling or worse, to stop any of these men from falling prey to possession. That was an enemy in its own right.

  Occasionally, I made my way to Arthur and Markus, ensuring they still clung to themselves, still human. They tolerated me only briefly before shooing me away, their exhaustion winning over whatever patience they once had.

  At least in those stolen moments, I found space to plant a little lie with Arthur. Something about Markus, something harmless enough to keep the wheels turning smoothly... for now.