Page 10

10

GAIDA

I linger in Luke’s office long after he’s gone, the cold finality of his words echoing in the empty space. You’ll adapt. Everyone does.

This is ridiculous. He’s pushing me away when we both know there’s something between us that defies explanation. The blood exchange we shared created something new, something powerful, yet he walks away as if it means nothing.

Luke refuses to reconnect with Lucius, which I understand even with the little bits I know and the boatload of stuff I don’t. The alternative of making me his sire horrifies him, and I get that. It horrifies me, too, but for different reasons.

There has to be another solution. We’re missing something obvious.

Sighing, I leave his office, determined not to let him push me away. I won’t stand for it. He is losing his control. He isn’t thinking clearly, and he needs me more now than ever.

Heading to the dining hall, I hope to find Dante there. It buzzes with subdued conversation when I enter. Students huddle in small groups. The mood is tense, uncertain.

I spot Dante immediately. He sits alone at a corner table, watching the room with calculating eyes. His posture relaxes subtly when he notices me.

“There you are,” he says as I slide into the seat opposite him. “I was starting to worry.”

“I was with Luke,” I reply quietly.

His expression darkens. “How is he?”

“Falling apart and pretending he isn’t. I need blood.”

We get up and move over to the dispenser, where we grab two to-go cups and jab straws into them as we amble back to our seats.

“Have you seen Felix?”

“He’s off doing dark sorcery-type things.”

I sip the synthetic blood, gathering my thoughts. “Luke’s refusing to reconnect with Lucius.”

“That was an option?” he asks, scrunching up his nose.

“I gave it to him.”

“And he refused, point blank?”

I nod.

“Can’t say I blame him, though.”

“I know, but...”

“But without a sire bond, Blackthorn will eventually go feral like the others,” Dante finishes for me.

I nod. “He says he prefers that to returning to Lucius.”

“What about other options? There must be alternatives to his original sire.”

“Like me?”

He nods slowly. “You can make him your charge with that sword, or someone else? What about Constantine? They’re already kind of connected, seem to have an okay relationship… maybe we could ask, feel him out.”

“Feel him out… about taking on a new charge, that used to be his grand-charge and not forgetting he lives in a totally different dimension,” I hiss, the last few words.

“I mean, yes, it has its complications.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Oh, snap. You’ve been dying to do that since I connected to your thoughts.” He grins.

“Fuck you,” I mutter. “And speaking of that, how did you even do that?”

He shrugs. “We are connected, ma reine .”

“Yeah, well, don’t do it again. I like my thoughts to remain mine.”

“Noted.”

I’m about to respond when the sword suddenly manifests in all its golden glory between us on the table. The sudden glow attracts immediate attention from nearby students.

Dante’s eyes narrow. “We should leave.”

I glance down at the sword, which shows no signs of disappearing. “Yeah, you’re probably right. The less anyone knows about this Mashed-up sword, the better.”

“Huh?” he asks, giving me a look of total confusion.

“This,” I snap, snatching it up and trying to keep a low profile.

“Mashed up? You mean Mashtar?”

“Whatever. Who are you, the name-the-sword-correctly police?”

He snorts as we hightail it out of the dining hall and head for my room.

The tension follows us out of the dining hall and down the corridor. The first rays of dawn filter through the windows. Most vampires will be retiring soon, though sleep seems impossible given the circumstances.

“That was uncomfortable,” I mutter once we’re safely away.

“It’s going to get worse,” Dante predicts grimly. “Fear makes people look for someone to blame. That sword appearing like that to you makes you an obvious target for unexplained behaviour.”

“Yeah, which is just a joyous thing.”

We reach my room and hustle inside. I sink onto my bed, suddenly exhausted. The experience with Luke has left me feeling overly hyper and slightly lightheaded. His blood is coursing through me, mine through him, on levels that are frightening. I knew this was possible, I’ve read about it, but it was banned centuries ago. Not that it changes anything. Vampires will do what vampires will do.

“What am I going to do, Dante?” I ask, the sword still gleaming in my hand. “About Luke, about all of this?”

He sits beside me, more serious than I’ve ever seen him. All of this shit is taking its toll on him as well. We lapse into silence for a moment, the only sound the faint humming of the sword.

“About Luke,” Dante says eventually. “You need to decide what you’re willing to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“If he won’t return to Lucius, and he continues deteriorating, there are only two outcomes: he goes feral, or someone else becomes his sire.”

“He doesn’t want me to be his sire,” I remind him. “He made that pretty clear. He said…”

Dante raises an eyebrow when I stop.

“He said he didn’t want to surrender to a child,” I blurt out, heat flaming on my cheeks,

“Oh, ouch,” Dante mutters with an expression that I can’t decide if it’s sympathy or pity. Maybe both.

“I’m not a child,” I mutter, staring at the sword as it responds to my irritation.

“No, but Blackthorn is fifteen hundred years old. Everyone’s a child to him.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better about it, and that’s just it, though. He’s acting like a child himself. Refusing help, pushing away people who care about him, making decisions based on pride rather than what’s actually needed.”

“He is a vampire who has perfected his iron will. This snap will be affecting him on levels we don’t even know about, not to mention he is in torment. He hasn’t turned completely feral, nor is he normal. That has to be the worst part. Knowing what’s coming, waiting for the guillotine to fall.”

“Fuck. You’re right. It must be awful, and I’m just making it worse by messing with his head, offering to rebind him to Lucius! Gods! I’m horrible!”

Dante cups my face and turns me towards him. “You’re not horrible. You’re trying to help.”

“By suggesting he goes back to a sire who abused him for centuries? Yeah, super helpful.”

“Perhaps not, but it’s an option. Maybe not the best one, but it is still an option.”

I run my fingers along the flat of the sword, watching the golden light shimmer under my touch. “There has to be another way.”

“Maybe there is.” Dante’s voice takes on a thoughtful quality. “The bond between vampires isn’t just about control. It’s about balance. Stability. What if you could create that without the traditional hierarchy?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know exactly but being this Blood Queen with the Mashed-up sword in your possession, who knows what’s possible.” He gives me that lazy smile that does things to my insides.

I giggle. The Mashtar sword brightens at his words, responding to the possibility. I lift it, examining the ancient runes that run along its blade. Most are indecipherable to me, but I can feel their power thrumming against my palm.

“I need to understand what this really is,” I murmur. “These runes… do you think Felix could decipher them?”

“Why are you asking me and not him?”

“Good point. Let’s go find him.” I move to get off the bed, but he grabs my hand.

“Sleep for a bit first, ma reine . You’re exhausted.”

I nod and lay the sword on its favoured pillow. It releases its hold on me, and I curl up to Dante’s chest, closing my eyes and hoping sleep will come, even for a little while.