“This is where we part ways.” I gestured down the hill, toward a faint hunting path. The town nearest our estate was still half a day away, but I didn’t dare take chances since we were now out of my family’s private land.

  Up above, light filtered orange through the colors of autumn, and leaves swirled around us with a frigid gust of wind. Would I need to pretend to shiver? Would a First Ring shiver?

  Azalea quirked an eyebrow as she stared at me. “Will you be returning to your family as Silk?”

  I looked down at myself, colorful robes and all and felt my cheeks heating up. “Of course not! This simply provides plausible deniability as well as taking less vitae. Now that we’re where the ambient vitae is less dense, I have to be careful.”

  “Suuure.”

  “Azalea…”

  She put up her hands. “No, I get it.”

  “You absolutely don’t.”

  “Actually, yes, I do.” She turned and started trotting off down the other path, drills bouncing. “I’ll see what I can dig up in the village, alright?”

  “You will not! What if you get us caught!”

  “Pah!” She wheeled and looked up at me, hands on her hips. “Who found you out here, hmm? Don’t worry about it!”

  “I’m going to worry!” I called after her.

  Azalea’s giggling was soon lost to the wind, and I stood at the faint crossroads, alone. I took a deep breath and focused on my human form as Slate. Again, I met resistance, but again I forced myself into it.

  When I opened my eyes, I stood looking almost as I had left. Almost. Smoother, brighter skin and nails not worried down by anxious biting stood out. First Ring changes, I thought with a smile.

  I put my hair up into a high ponytail and took off jogging down the path. By afternoon, I’d reached a familiar trail, and by evening, I stood within sight of my home. Sharp-peaked roofs rose above the treeline, the windows of the top floor peeking out above dull gray walls. Even in early autumn, our gardens were vibrant: shades of red and orange mixing with deep greens.

  The walls, however, seemed a little higher on this side.

  By the time I’d approached the gates, they were swinging open.

  “I’m here to see my father,” I told the head butler who met me inside.

  The butler, who’d served my father since before my birth, studied me for a moment. A small smile turned his lips, and he whispered, “Congratulations, Young Master.”

  I stopped in my tracks. “Thank you. You know then, that I must see Father immediately.”

  At that his smile disappeared. “My apologies, but His Grace was called away on business just this morning.”

  A chill ran down my spine. No, surely not. Perhaps there’d been another incident.

  I glanced to see what guards were nearby before replying quietly. “Did Father mention the reason?”

  The butler only shook his head.

  “Arrange a meeting with Mother, then. You know this cannot wait.”

  He bowed his head apologetically. “My apologies again, Young Master, but Her Grace is away this evening. She may not return until late tomorrow.”

  For a moment, I truly considered asking to meet with Mother the moment she returned. To be too demanding could backfire and sour the meeting; I already had a feeling how she would respond to my achievement and my bones ached already. “The morning then. Or as soon as is convenient for her.”

  “Understood, Young Master. Will you be in your chambers?”

  I felt the key weigh heavy in my pocket. “I will, yes. Please put a request in with my maid to draw a bath.”

  He nodded and strode off like a wraith toward the servants’ quarters. Since he didn’t comment, that meant my maid was back from the vacation I’d sent her to take. My shoulders sagged a little in relief.

  Familiar faces would do me well.

  I stared down at my hand; the too-small glove feeling wasn’t something I could shake. For now, though, I had to visit the vault and return the key. Drawing a bath would give me just a few minutes to slip and out. More time if I forwent the bath, but not only would that raise suspicion, I desperately wanted to smell of something other than dirt.

  Unfortunately, I ran into my brother before I made it to the archive. He stood out like a bonfire of vitae turning the corner toward me. My fangs itched under my silken guise and I had to force myself to swallow.

  “You’re home early!” Shale beamed.

  Under the glow of his First Ring power, my younger brother could almost have been my twin. He, however, kept his black hair short-cropped. A little shorter (a point of insult for him and a point of no contest for me), and a little broader, he stood with his hands planted on his hips.

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  “Not bad, Slate!” He walked up and threw an arm around my shoulder.

  I was still trying to figure out words without too many teeth and the food is so close!

  Of course, he just continued on, oblivious. “I was starting to think my boring brother wouldn’t make it!” He ruffled my hair in the way he knew I hated. “Wow, you’re actually even softer now!”

  I squirmed out of his grip with very satisfying ease and straightened my hair. “Yes, well I’m more pure of body than before.”

  Shale tilted his head. “You look like a girl, your face is so smooth.”

  My heart twinged at his comment, but I kept a neutral face. The hunger was getting harder to ignore—is it ever sated? “Yes, well I suppose I won’t have to worry about shaving.”

  He stopped me as I moved to walk past him. “Did you forget where your room is?”

  I looked at his hand on my shoulder. “I suppose I’m just anxious. That’s all.”

  “Then we should spar! Let it out!” He slapped me on the back. “Come on! Let’s get you bulked up. You don’t want to be stuck as a twig when you reach those later rings, right?”

  I swallowed again, and the hunger faded just a little. Even if he was a feckless moron, he was still my brother. But there was no way I could spar him, especially not right now.

  “Later. I’m having a bath drawn.” I turned to walk back toward my chambers, key heavy in my pocket.

  “Wouldn’t that be ‘inefficient?’” He mimicked my tone, grabbing my arm. “You’ll need another bath after I’m done thrashing you.”

  “Shale,” I warned, wrenching my arm out of his grasp.

  My brother frowned, his jovial mood running away like water through a sieve. Immediately, I realized my mistake: I shouldn’t be stronger than him.

  Except for a brief period during our early childhood, Shale has always been the stronger, bigger one. It wasn’t hard to figure out the emotion in his eyes as he glared down at me: jealousy.

  And fear.

  If I surpassed him, he couldn’t excuse his behavior anymore. More than once, I’d argued to Father that it shouldn’t be excused now.

  Shale took a step toward me. “It’s a good thing Father isn’t here.”

  “Shale, I have only ever requested Father impose changes to prepare you in case I wasn’t fit to inherit.”

  He took another step, and I backed off on reflex. My brother held no love for me; I knew that. But he’d also never assaulted me. Was it purely because I wasn’t a physical threat? As much as I wanted to put him in his place, I couldn’t. Nothing would be worth the risk of outing myself.

  Swallowing my pride was surprisingly easy. Luring prey.

  I rubbed at where he’d grabbed me and slunk down lower. “Look at me, Brother. I’m so exhausted that I passed my own chambers.”

  He glared at me. “You’re strong.”

  “Vitae enhancement. I’m still new to First Ring, and I used more than I should’ve,” I lied. Never mind that I could do that before, if not enough to break his grip. Never mind it was something you certainly didn’t need First Ring to do.

  Shale didn’t read cultivation techniques. Shale didn’t study theory or history. Shale the prodigy took a mountain of power and was proud to make a small hill.

  I forced myself to look down instead of meeting his gaze.

  “I guess you should rest then. You’re pretty smart though; you’ll understand First Ring someday. Need a walk back to your room?”

  “No, I can find it.”

  “If you’re sure.” He patted me on the head, and I waited until his footsteps turned the corner to stand up and unclench my jaw.

  The silken skin had torn when he patted my head. And it nearly took slipping into my Garden to rein in my instincts. The prey escaped.

  The prey was my brother! Not prey!

  Frankly, I’m lucky he’s an idiot. An idiot who will never, ever inherit.

  Instead of going to my chambers, I hurried to the vault.

  The Graystone family vault was carved into a mountain. Not by workers with tools, but by the stone-shaping techniques of our forebears. The door was equally ancient: a stone disk twice my height and half as thick, so covered in runes that it was impossible for the eye to trace its outline.

  Without knowing where to start, one could spend weeks trying just to find the “handle.” When I placed my hand onto the ancient stone, I felt a prick and my heart skipped a beat. Would my demonic blood work; would I be killed on the spot?

  Lying to Shale about being exhausted wasn’t fully a lie. Thankfully, instead of a swift death, the runes lit up, and the door rolled open soundlessly.

  I slipped inside before it finished, and it closed quickly behind me. Inside, lights powered by vitae lit the walls and I couldn’t help but stare hungrily at them. The ambient vitae was so thick, however, it felt like I should chew each breath to savor the contents. Except for some infuriating technique that slipped such lovely energy out of my fangs before I could get more than a nibble.

  Most people imagining the vault of the strongest duchy in the Kingdom of Hearths would assume it to be full of piled gold and valuables. Yes, there were bars of gold stacked neatly in one corner, but the majority of the occupied space was taken up by rows of shelves holding a sparse collection of relics and artifacts.

  Once upon a time, in the age of the old Empire, this vault would have held tens of thousands of scrolls on cultivation methods and techniques. Now, those were relegated to a single shelf of family techniques, copies of the originals held in various sects.

  The Empire hadn’t ended so much as it had ascended. The Kingdoms of today exist such that the higher cultivators needn’t busy themselves in the affairs of the mundane. That our family still retained this much spoke volumes of our continued history of higher cultivation.

  Or the first three Rings at least.

  To ascend higher typically meant joining a sect permanently and removing oneself from the mundane world. That sort of power I didn’t need; just a bit more to get to the equivalent of Third Ring.

  When I reached the right place, I carefully flipped the latch on the box and placed the key back in its velvet-lined impression. Instead of closing the lid, I stared at it for a moment, remembering how I’d hesitated to take the key.

  Despite months of planning, I’d almost not gone through with it. Had my shaking hand closed the lid, I’d have failed. This one decision decided the course of my entire life: die early and helplessly, or have a chance at something greater.

  To take a phrase out of Azalea’s book, no way in hell was I gonna waste this chance.

  I closed the lid and latched it and the metaphorical weight of the key lifted from my mind. In fact, I was rather looking forward to a bath!

  All my happy thoughts were dashed when I saw my brother, arms crossed, waiting outside the vault.

  “I knew you cheated,” he spat, and my blood turned to ice in my veins.