“Seonu knew you were the prince’s bitch. No wonder he let you go at the steelworks. You were the perfect plant for this attack.”

I grimace. The man’s got a point. I was Alexei’s sitting bomb, and I feel shit about it, but I’m not helping while stood here with my hands in the air. I risk shuffling round to face him.

“Why the fuck would I come back if I was on their side?”

Behind Mason, a group of six frightened students huddle inside a wooden gazebo, protected by a line of four soldiers also bearing crossbows. The young Channelers, none of them older than teens, clutch each other with trembling hands. All eyes watch me—the ticking explosive. Lead-heavy guilt sinks a path through my chest.

I drop my arms. “I didn’t know. I—”

I’m cut off by a blur of black from my right. A puff of air glances off my cheek as I barely dodge an arrow. It skirts over Mason’s shaved head. I block an incoming fist, jab the Blood Servant’s ribs, and take him down with a face tackle. As he hits the dirt, Mason fires, and a wooden bolt buries itself in the Servant’s chest. The guy spits blood and gurgles a curse before he stills, eyes fixed to the dark sky.

Disgust curls my lip. Even in death, the Blood Servant’s grizzled face wears the same wild expression of rabid madness they all do. Is that the effect of the blood they drink? At the steelworks, they were too strong and fast for me, but he seemed to be my equal.

While Mason loads another bolt, we regard each other.

I ask the question eating at my mind. “Is Laasya—”

“Alive,” he snaps. “No thanks to you.”

The relief nearly drops me to the grass. “Where is she?”

“The infirmary. Hopefully it’s still intact. There are blood bastards inside, so I don’t know.”

“What?” I glance back at the mansion. People run past the windows, some in brown, some in black. “I’m going in.”

Mason shakes his head, sidestepping a shiny missile as it skids past his foot. “Quinton’s sealed the place up. You can’t get in. He’ll make short work of the bastards inside anyway.” He gives me a withering once over. “Look, half breed, I can’t kill you. The commander would skin me alive, and we need all the manpower we can get. If it’s true you’re here to help, then face off with your own. They’ll be shit scared of a Whisperer.”

Face off with vampires. Crap. “Where?”