I looked at Amal. “If this is where Ta’Zan got the protein from, why didn’t he use Aeternae genes to make his Perfects, long before the vampires came along?” I whispered.

“There were notes in his old journals about this. Something about incompatibilities with other genetic samples—possibly from this species—that forced him to wait until he discovered the vampires,” Amal murmured. “We don’t have any of Ta’Zan’s papers left, though, so I wouldn’t be able to give you more details. Something just didn’t click in the gene pool with whatever Aeternae material he had, as opposed to the vampire material.”

Again, my pulse went on a frantic race, as the truth settled in my mind. Ta’Zan must’ve tried to build his Perfects using Aeternae genes, but it hadn’t worked, for reasons we might never understand. But he’d managed to isolate that day-walking protein, at least, which he’d put into Derek… and probably the Perfects, too, who had vampire genes in them.

“We take our blood from animals, mostly,” Derek said. “On rare occasions, humans, which we all once were, as well, give it to us. Where do you get yours from?”

Upon hearing the question, Petra struggled not to laugh, while Kalon kept watching me, searching for a reaction despite not being able to see my face. Zoltan avoided eye contact altogether, seeming rather nervous, while Corbin never took his eyes off Derek and Sofia. He’d already acknowledged them as leaders of our group.

“That’s why Rimia and Nalore were conquered. They give it to us in exchange for goods and services, housing, and many other advantages,” the high priestess said. “It took Visio a long time, and there was plenty of initial resistance, but we’ve attained a precious balance which benefits all parties involved.”

“You feed on people?” Sofia replied, understandably concerned. Derek gently squeezed her wrist, though he was just as disturbed by Petra’s words. It was a discreet reminder that we needed to be careful so as not to offend our hosts.

“They sell their blood,” Corbin said. “We never go hungry, and neither do they. Our society thrives because of this relationship. If you do things differently in your world, then good for you. I hope you haven’t come here to judge us for how we run our kingdom.”

“No, we wouldn’t dare,” Derek intervened, trying to smile. “We’re simply impressed by what you’ve accomplished. We didn’t think it was possible.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Petra replied. “Like I said, they were reluctant at first. Once Rimia and Nalore were conquered, however, their options became limited. As the years went by, they got used to it. They learned to accept it as part of how things are and will be for as long as the Aeternae exist. And we plan to make that an eternity.”

“Mind if I ask how this entire process works? Do you feed on living people, or do they sell you certain quantities of their blood?” I asked, trying to get a better picture before suggesting some GASP policing options to Derek—after we got all the original source of the day-walking protein that we needed, of course.

“It is collected weekly from harvesting centers,” Zoltan said. “The people come in, give their blood, and are paid accordingly. It’s a simple process, really. A cultural norm.”

“And the blood is then shipped to Visio from Nalore and Rimia, right?” Tristan replied, following my lead.

Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed a couple of skinny Rimian females—much thinner than others I’d seen before. They wore elegant dresses, quite different from their peers. I’d already noted that the Rimians and the Naloreans did not seem as wealthy as the Aeternae, but these two girls seemed to contradict my observation. Their dresses were beautiful, made from smooth silks and adorned with gemstone embroideries—a little over the top, if I were to be honest, as if they were trying to compensate for other things they were missing. I’d seen this before in what my brother and I had called “the nouveau riche” across different civilizations. People from poor backgrounds who’d stumbled upon a fortune, eager to blare their opulence in public.

There was something odd about these two girls, though. They were worryingly thin, their skin paler than most Rimians we’d spotted so far, with dark rings around their eyes and shaky hands. There wasn’t enough expensive silk and brocade to cover an ailing body, unfortunately.

“Once a week, our ships come in from Rimia and Nalore with gallons of blood, carefully kept on ice until it’s consumed,” Petra said.

The Rimian girls wore scarves that covered their necks. A thought crossed my mind as I shifted my focus back to the high priestess. “You never feed on live people?”

She didn’t answer right away. I had a feeling she was trying to choose her words carefully, having already noticed Sofia’s aversion to drinking blood from our humans.

“We do not seek to harm our food source,” Petra finally said. “Of course, some Rimians and Naloreans might want to increase their fortunes and may decide to offer their blood in a more direct way to wealthy Aeternae. Our kingdom does not condone such a practice, but it’s rather difficult to police.”

I nodded slowly, catching the drift. Therefore, the two Rimian girls I’d spotted were likely displaying signs of anemia, a weakness that came from having too much of their blood drained. Given that the system the Aeternae had put in place was touted as being well-regulated, I had to assume that they wouldn’t have allowed anyone to weaken themselves to such a point.

These girls had recently gotten rich, likely from generous Aeternae who’d nearly drained them of their blood—hence the scarves around their necks. The carotid would’ve been the favorite drinking spot of vampires. Surely, the Aeternae would feel the same.

I felt a little sad for the girls, but if that had been their decision, it wasn’t my place to judge. “I suppose it’s a social structure they’ve all adhered to,” I said. “It might have been uncomfortable for the earlier generations, but the current ones seem to have adjusted quite well. Assuming, of course, that the Rimians and the Naloreans have a shorter lifespan than the Aeternae.”

“You are correct again,” Petra replied, genuinely impressed. “Your mind is brilliant, young lady. I can see why Derek wanted you to come along on this journey.”

“Yeah, you ask all the right questions,” Kalon added, his gaze still glued to me.

I’d yet to get used to his presence, thus pulling double duty between asking “the right questions” and keeping my composure in front of him. For a moment, I thought about what my parents would’ve said, had they been here for this. Or Grandma Anna. Grandpa Kyle…

“Shall we continue with our walk?” Zoltan interrupted my train of thought.

Derek nodded. “By all means, lead the way.”

We left the town square and made our way up a broad alley littered with flowerpots and small shops with stained-glass windows, selling pretty much everything—from fabrics, buttons, and fashion accessories, to various foods and preserves, fragrances, home décor objects, and building supplies.

As the sun went down, however, most of these shops closed their business, the shopkeepers locking the windows and pulling the heavy wooden shutters closed. By the time we reached the end of this alley and looked back, it was almost empty, the people already having gone to their homes to rest for the day. There was something sweet about the routine itself, another piece to add to the puzzle I was building in my head.

Petra did most of the talking again, telling us about local cuisine and habits, along with the Aeternae’s penchant for adding spices to their blood—yet another thing we had in common with their species, as did the Maras, for that matter. It was becoming increasingly clear that the Aeternae were basically day-walking vampires, and that it was their blood we’d need in order to bring all the vampires up to Derek’s physical level.

“They’re weirdly a lot like us,” Tristan said, keeping his voice down. Kalon had gone ahead, talking to Zoltan as he led our small group toward the city center. Out here, buildings became taller, well-mannered giants with sculpted façades and French-style windows, neat little balconies loaded with wrought-iron chairs and bursts of red and orange flowers, and supple porte-cocheres. For a moment, I thought we’d gotten ourselves lost in nineteenth century London. It was peculiar how a species so much like ours could follow such a familiar artistic evolution as well.

“I think we’re missing important chunks of the story, though,” I replied. “We’re barely scratching the surface at this point.”

“Oh, that’s for sure. But it’s okay. I think we’re off to a good start. Don’t you?” he asked me, and I needed a moment to think about my answer. I wanted to say yes, but it didn’t feel entirely genuine. There was something about these Aeternae people that bothered me, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Maybe my instinct was glitchy. Then again, as far as Kalon Visentis was concerned, I had every reason to be worried. He was too good-looking and overconfident. That was either the mark of a sociopath or a reckless fool likely to get himself killed. You do have a predilection for bad boys, Esme.

“You could say that, sure,” I mumbled, then decided to ask a tougher question, seeing how open Petra had been until now. There had to be a limit here, and I wanted to figure it out, so my brother and I could later determine how to get past it. “High Priestess, if you don’t mind me asking, what is the average lifespan of an Aeternae?”

Kalon’s head snapped around, almost breaking his neck as he looked back at me. Petra, on the other hand, was remarkably unfazed. “That is a difficult question, mainly because it varies so much. I wouldn’t be able to give you an average, I’m afraid. Some of us live to be a thousand, a hundred thousand, a million years old. A few have been around for much, much longer than that.”

“Would we be able to meet one of them?” Tristan replied.

“No. The seniors are kept safe, away from the big cities. They prefer peace and tranquility, having their own homes in the heart of nature,” Zoltan said firmly.

“So how does an Aeternae die, usually?” I asked. “I get the beheading and burning part, but how do those come to happen? Your society strikes me as peaceful. Maybe I’m wrong?”

“There’s the usual unfortunate accident,” Kalon replied dryly.

“How does one go about getting beheaded accidentally?” I shot back.

“Then there are murders,” Kalon continued, completely ignoring me. “The Aeternae are not saints. Many of those who commit terrible crimes are executed. And there are plenty of people who simply choose to end their lives, having lost the will to keep going.”

“How does that happen?” Tristan asked.

Petra sighed deeply, appearing somewhat saddened by this fact. “With all the time we’re given, some of us simply have enough. Living can be tiresome, especially past five hundred thousand years. We don’t age past a certain point, like I’ve said. But, on the inside, we can experience weariness... Our seniors may not have gray hair and wrinkles, but they can still be exhausted. But given how treasured they are to us, we keep them in havens so that they never feel the need to end it all. Ever.”

“So, basically, you, high priestess, along with the chief councilor, and the master commander are not considerably older than, say, most of the Aeternae we’ve seen so far, even though you look… older? I apologize if I’m causing offense, you all look fantastic, but I’m just trying to understand the age versus aging aspect here,” I said.

“Don’t let my hair fool you. I’m barely past twenty thousand, darling,” Petra replied and smiled as she looked at Corbin and Zoltan. “You’re right about these two, though. Old bags of bones already.”

“The high priestess is being amusing, of course,” Zoltan retorted. “I’m a little over two hundred thousand years, and the master commander here has recently celebrated his millionth year. Truth be told, there are very few Aeternae who appear older than forty. We call them late bloomers.”

“The Master Commander doesn’t look a day over thirty thousand, if you ask me,” Kalon muttered, prompting his mother to chuckle softly.

“Immortality isn’t only about looking like you’re twenty or thirty or forty forever,” Petra said as we walked up a boulevard lined by white marble villas with three and four levels. Carriages were drawn both ways by animals that resembled our horses—though significantly taller and more muscular, their coats charcoal black or ivory white. They were beautiful beasts, nonetheless, and I was already looking forward to riding one, if given the chance. Their hooves clicked loudly across the smooth cobblestone. “Immortality is about living forever, at ease with oneself. That is our philosophy, and it has kept us above the Naloreans and the Rimians for a very long time.”

Kalon moved back to walk with Tristan and me. “What matters is what we do with our immortality, not our appearance or the age at which we stop changing, physically speaking. That’s what my mother is trying to say.”