Bloodforged Read Online Free Page B

its filigree it was as sturdy as a fortress, with bars on the windows and a four-inch-thick oak door, and though there were no guards visible, Ulrika knew Hermione’s ‘gentlemen’ were inside, and there were likely wards and heavy locks too, stronger than those that had protected the little safe house. No wonder the Strigoi, with all its strength, had preferred to kill the Lahmians outside of their houses when it could. It would take an army to break down Hermione’s defences.
    Of course, it wouldn’t take an army for Ulrika to enter. The maids and men-at-arms knew her, and some little lie would be enough to get her through the door. The difficulty would be getting Famke out again. She was sure Hermione could lock the doors and windows with a snap of her fingers, and then she would be trapped inside. Hermione might kill her for trying to steal her protégée from her, or worse, bring her back to Gabriella.
    But perhaps she wouldn’t have to enter the house. Perhaps Famke was still in the garden. With renewed excitement Ulrika dropped down from the rooftop to a narrow side street and circled the block until she reached the back wall of Hermione’s estate. Her heart surged as the tinny strains of an inexpertly played lute reached her ears. That could be only one person. Ulrika tiptoed to the wall and made to spring to the top of it, then paused. What if Hermione was with Famke? Or some of her gentlemen? She strained her senses. No heartbeats, but Hermione might still be there. Ulrika would have to spy it out.
    She jumped up and caught the top of the wall with her fingers, then pulled herself up slowly until she could just peer over the wall. Trees and shrubs and statues of lovers dying in each others’ arms screened off much of the house, but by craning her neck and leaning to the left she could just see the veranda, and Famke.
    She was alone on the bench where Ulrika had left her, her golden hair gleaming silver in the moonlight as she bent assiduously over her lute, wrestling with a Bretonnian melody – and losing.
    Ulrika breathed a sigh of relief, then slipped over the wall and dropped down into the garden. She padded through the trees and shrubs to crouch down at the edge of the lawn, not wanting to step out where she would be in view of the windows.
    ‘Famke!’ she whispered.
    Famke looked up, peeking through her long straight tresses.
    ‘Who?’ she asked, her playing faltering. Then she saw Ulrika and stopped altogether. ‘Sister! What are you doing here?’
    Ulrika put a finger to her lips and beckoned to her. ‘Shhh,’ she said. ‘Come here.’
    Famke looked back towards the house, then stood and hurried down the steps and across the lawn. ‘What is it, Ulrika? Why are you sneaking around like a thief?’
    Ulrika grinned. ‘I have run away. The countess revealed herself to be without honour or respect, so I have decided to strike out on my own, and I’ve come to take you with me.’ She took Famke’s hand. ‘Come. We haven’t much time.’
    ‘You… you’ve run away?’ asked Famke, stunned.
    ‘It was that or die.’ Ulrika stood. ‘Now to the wall, before anyone comes looking for you.’
    Famke pulled back. ‘Ulrika, I… How can we do this? It was only a joke. A dream.’
    ‘It is no joke for me,’ said Ulrika, impatient. ‘Not any more. I tore apart the countess’s house and robbed her blind. There’s no going back.’
    ‘But it’s impossible!’ said Famke. ‘We will need a coach, and blood-swains, and places to stay.’
    Ulrika hefted the purse at her belt. ‘We’ll buy all that. Now, come on!’
    Hermione’s voice rang from inside the house. ‘Famke? Famke, where are you?’
    Ulrika turned back to Famke. ‘Come, sister,’ she whispered. ‘Before it’s too late.’
    Famke shook her head, looking as if she would cry were vampires able to shed tears. ‘I cannot. It won’t work. I’m sorry.’
    Ulrika stepped out of the bushes towards her, anger growing in her breast.