Page 23

23

GAIDA

“You’re still here?” I ask, trying not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of this situation.

“Have you changed your mind about coming home?” Dad asks, eyes narrowed, trying not to blow a gasket.

“Yes, but only because we have something to ask you.”

“We?” His gaze flicks to Dante.

“Yes, we.”

“And then we will be coming right back,” Dante adds, staring first at my dad and then at his.

“What is this about?” Mr DuLoc snaps.

“Our future,” Dante says smoothly, and that promptly shuts his dad up. “We will catch up later, okay?”

Mine, on the other hand, looks ready to stake someone.

“Get in the car,” he spits out.

Dante and I exchange a look of solidarity, and we open the gates to slip out from behind the wards. Half of me is expecting to be detained with silver chains and thrown into the boot of the car, but luckily, for everyone involved, that doesn’t happen. Instead, Dad opens the back door of the Rolls Royce and glares at us to get in under our own steam.

Dante follows me into the car, his hand finding mine and squeezing reassuringly as we settle into the plush leather seats. The door slams behind us with a finality that makes my stomach clench.

“This had better be good,” Dad mutters as he slides into the front passenger seat. His driver, Jorge, glances at us but says nothing as he pulls away.

The silence is thick as we drive through the forest on the barely there road that will lead us to the main road. The academy’s gothic spires disappear behind us, along with Luke and Felix.

“We will talk when we get home,” Dad finally says, turning in his seat to face us when Jorge hits the main road, some half an hour later, where the silence is borderline oppressive.

“Okay,” I say and roll my eyes at Dante.

He suppresses a laugh, and it lightens the mood in the back seat at least.

My family’s estate isn’t that far from the edge of the forest, perhaps another half an hour or so, so Dante and I sit in silence while the car eats up the miles.

My stomach clenches when the estate’s gates come into view.

The imposing wrought iron gates adorned with the Aragon family crest swing open silently, and Jorge drives through without slowing. The long, tree-lined driveway feels like a path to the gallows rather than home.

Dante’s thumb strokes the back of my hand soothingly, his presence my only anchor in this sea of uncertainty. His emotions are calm, controlled—he’s putting on a brave face for me, but I can sense the tension in his shoulders.

The Aragon mansion looms ahead, a sprawling gothic masterpiece of stone and glass that’s been my family home for centuries. Light spills from windows like golden eyes watching our approach.

As the car stops at the front entrance, I feel Dante’s hand tighten on mine.

“It’ll be fine,” I whisper, though I’m not entirely convinced myself.

The car door opens, and Dad exits without a backwards glance, striding up the steps with the expectation that we’ll follow.

Dante and I follow my father into the grand foyer with its soaring ceilings and ancient tapestries. The smell of beeswax and old books envelops me, so familiar it almost hurts. This is my heritage, my blood, yet I feel like an intruder.

“Your mother is in the drawing room,” Dad says over his shoulder. “She’ll want to hear whatever this is.”

I exchange another glance with Dante as we follow Dad through the labyrinth of corridors. He is calm and confident. His dad knows where he is, probably followed us and is lingering outside. He will be fine. Me, maybe not so much. I’ve walked into the lion’s den, and I honestly feel like this was a big mistake now.

But we are here and we need the info on Draken so I suck it up and smooth down my dress.

The drawing room door swings open, and there sits my mother, elegant as always in a deep burgundy dress that complements her pale skin perfectly. Her dark hair is swept up in an intricate style, not a strand out of place. She looks up from her book, her blue eyes widening slightly at the sight of Dante and me.

“Gaida,” she says, rising gracefully. “This is unexpected. I was under the impression that you were staying at MistHallow.”

“Hi, Mum. I am, this is a short visit,” I say, stepping forward to accept her cool kiss on my cheek.

She turns to Dante, assessing him with a calculating gaze that makes me want to step between them. “Mr DuLoc. I trust you’re well?”

“Very well, thank you, Mrs Aragon,” Dante replies smoothly, offering a respectful bow of his head.

Dad closes the door behind us with a decisive click. “They have something to tell us, apparently.”

Mum gestures to the sofas facing each other across an antique coffee table. “Please, sit.”

Dante and I take one sofa while my parents settle opposite us, their postures rigid with expectation. I feel like I’m sixteen again, caught sneaking out to a blood rave.

“Well?” Dad prompts, impatience radiating from him.

I take a deep breath and squeeze Dante’s hand. “Dante and I know our future is with each other. We are here to ask for your blessing.”

Dante’s hand squeezes mine, and I know I just stepped on protocol, so I sit back and let him have the room.

He clears his throat and looks at my father directly. “Sir, I love your daughter with all my heart. We are a perfect match from two of the most respected pureblood families, but even after that, I believe we are destined to be together. I’m here to formally ask for your blessing for our union.”

The silence that follows is deafening. My mother’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows rise incrementally while my father’s expression darkens like a gathering storm.

“You can’t be serious,” Dad finally says, his voice dangerously soft. “A few days ago, I gave you and Luke my blessing, and now you come to me with another man on your arm? What is going on here, Gaida?”

“Multiple mates,” I mutter. “Does it matter? This is about me and Dante right now. Besides, I figured your blessing for Luke and me had been revoked after you said it was.”

“A figure of speech,” he grits out. “Luke is…”

“Is what?”

“Not one to take lightly. If he wants a union with my daughter, he will have it. I doubt very much he will accept, whatever this is.” He waves his hand at me and Dante. But I’m frozen inside, the apparent insult washing over me. Since when does my dad bow down to anyone? What the hell does he know or think he knows about Luke that would make him say what he did? I frown at him, confused as fuck.

“So you accept Luke, but not Dante?” I venture.

Dad’s jaw clenches. “The situations are entirely different.”

“How exactly?” I demand, my anger rising.

“Dante, while from a respectable lineage, doesn’t have the connections that Luke Blackthorn possesses.”

“Connections?” Dante asks, his voice carefully neutral, though I can feel his indignation.

Dad leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The Blackthorn name carries weight across this realm. There are considerations beyond mere bloodlines.”

“So, yes to Luke and no to Dante?”

“You can’t have both of them!”

“Yes, I can and possibly a third. Look, Dad. This was a formality, nothing more. Whether you give us your blessing or not, we are going to be together.”

“Then why are you really here?”

I smile steadily. Trust Dad to see straight through this. “Okay, fine. You win. This isn’t about me and Dante, although what I said stands. This also isn’t about being scared of what is coming and needing to seek sanctuary here at home. This is about wanting to know what you know about Draken.”

“Draken?” He frowns. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Several places, one of them in my head. So, Draken? Official first vampire from the womb of the First vampire and head of our line.”

“Amongst others,” Dante mutters.

Dad rises suddenly, moving to the drinks cabinet in the corner. His movements are too controlled, too measured. “Draken is a complicated figure in our history,” he says, pouring himself a glass of blood-infused whisky. “Much of what is written about him is myth rather than fact.”

“So tell us the facts,” Dante says, leaning forward slightly.

Dad turns, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “The fact is, Gaida, that some histories are better left unexplored.”

“Not good enough. You saw the sword earlier. If you don’t know exactly what’s going on, you and the rest of The Equilibrium have some idea. So, tell us what we came here for. Where is he?”

“Where?” Mum asks, her voice high-pitched.

“Yeah, where . We know he’s still alive somewhere, a monster vampire thousands of years old.”

I feel Dante shift beside me. “Sir, with all due respect. The sword exists. Mashtar exists. And if they exist, so does Draken and the chalice.”

The glass in my father’s hand cracks slightly under his grip. “Who told you about the chalice?”

“So it does exist,” I say, leaning forward. “Where is it? And where is Draken? We need both of those if we are going to fix this almighty mess you have inadvertently thrown me into.”

“Us?” Mum says, aghast, hand on her chest. “We were trying to prevent this!”

That catches me off guard. “What? Don’t lie. We know The Equilibrium was trying to breed a Blood Sovereign!”

Mum and Dad exchange a loaded glare.

Dante and I do the same.

Have we got this all wrong? Are our parents the good guys?

Dad slams the cracked glass onto a side table. “The Equilibrium was trying to prevent this, Gaida. The breeding program wasn’t to create a Blood Sovereign, it was to create someone with the power to stop one from rising.”

“That makes no sense,” I say, shaking my head. “If you were trying to prevent it, why not just tell me? Why all the secrecy?”

Mum rises gracefully, her movements deliberately slow and controlled. “Because knowledge itself is dangerous. The more you knew, the more likely you were to draw attention from those who seek the power.”

“Like Draken?” Dante asks, his grip on my hand tightening.

My parents exchange another look, and my patience wears thin.

“Stop with the cryptic glances and tell us the truth,” I demand. “All of it.”

Dad paces to the window, staring out into the darkness. “Draken isn’t just alive, Gaida. He’s been waiting. For centuries, the chalice has been hidden, passed down through a select lineage of guardians—those sworn to keep it separate from the sword at all costs.”

“Where is it now?” I press.

“Safe,” Mum says firmly. “That’s all you need to know.”

“No, it’s not,” Dante interjects. “MistHallow was stormed by Equilibrium arseholes trying to get to Gaida and the sword.”

“Not Gaida, just the sword. We knew Luke had it. Just not where. We knew that Gaida would find it, or rather, it would find Gaida.”

“Why? How?”

“Blood Rights,” he says, turning back to me. “You are the one to stop all of this. It’s the right you have, the legacy you have through your Aragon blood.”

“So the Blood Queen is not the same as the person bred to stop all of this?” Dante asks, looking as confused as I feel.

Dad shakes his head. “The Blood Rights are different. Are you saying you think you are the Blood Sovereign?”

I nod slowly. “The Blood Queen .”

“Then despite the Blood Rights, we can’t give you the chalice,” Mum states coldly.

“Wait, you have it?”

“We are the Guardians.”

“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter and flop back to the sofa. “You see, this is exactly why information would’ve been nice! We are all so fucking confused none of us know which way is up!”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Dad mutters, sitting back down and sighing. “Okay, so let’s recap for those who are a bit slow on the uptake.” He glares at Dante, who glares back with a look of utter annoyance. “Let’s start at the beginning. Draken wasn’t the son of the First vampire on this earth. He is the son of Mashtar.”

“So also born before the worlds split?”

“No, after.”

“And?”

“And Draken is the one who is trying to reunite the worlds,” Dad continues, his voice low and measured. “He wants to release his father from the sword.”

“Why?” I ask, leaning forward. “Does he want to end all existence?”

“Not end it,” Mum says, her elegant fingers tracing patterns on the arm of her chair. “Rule it. Reshape it. Father and son, gods of a new reality.”

Dante’s grip on my hand tightens. “That’s insane.”

“Insanity and ambition often walk hand in hand,” Dad says grimly. “For millennia, the Aragon line has been tasked with keeping the chalice hidden. Each generation, a guardian is chosen.”

“You,” I say, looking between them.

Dad nods once. “Me. As it was my father before me, and his mother before him.”

“So the chalice is here? In this house?” Dante asks, his eyes scanning the room as if expecting to see it displayed on a shelf.

“It’s secure,” Dad says, his tone making it clear he won’t elaborate further.

I stand up, frustration boiling over. “This is ridiculous! You’ve been keeping this from me my entire life. The chalice, the Guardians, the Blood Rights! I mean, does that make me the next Guardian?”

“Yes,” Mum says. “But if you believe you are the Blood Queen, then this complicates matters. We aren’t sure how that happened?”

“Maybe all your messing with blood breeding?” Dante snaps. He receives a vicious snarl from my mother, but it doesn’t faze him.

“So what now? What am I supposed to do here?” I ask. “Because I am at a total loss. The sword wants the chalice. It thinks I am the most powerful vampire in this realm. We know others exist. We have met… creatures from them…”

“Luke,” Dad says.

“Sure,” I mutter. “Of course, you know.”

“Back to the sword and the chalice. Is Draken in the chalice?”

“Yes,” he says carefully. Too carefully.

“What aren’t you saying?”

“Draken is in the chalice, but if he is released, the end of days will continue.”

“Continue?”

“It started right before he was imprisoned. He was about to bring forth Mashtar to find the Blood Sovereign to bring about the merging of the worlds.”

“But that was centuries ago. I was only born twenty-one years ago.”

“The timeline is fluid,” Dad says, his expression grim. “The Blood Sovereign isn’t confined to a single generation or moment. The prophecy speaks of the one who comes when the worlds weaken, when the boundaries between realms grow thin.”

“So there have been others?”

“Others who had no idea who or what they were.”

Dante grips my hand again. “So what exactly are Gaida’s Blood Rights? Forgetting she is the Blood Queen for a second, what is she supposed to do?”

Dad takes a deep breath. “The Blood Rights give her the authority to wield both the sword and the chalice together—not to merge the worlds, but to permanently seal the barriers between them.”

“Seal them how?” I ask, I already think I know the answer.

“With blood,” Mum confirms my suspicion. “Do you see now why you being both is a problem?”

My legs feel suddenly weak, and I sink back onto the sofa. “And if that happens because I am also the Blood Queen?”

“The end of everything,” Dad says simply. “The merging of worlds would begin immediately. Chaos, destruction, the death of everything except the one original creature.”

“Mashtar.”

“Not even Draken?” Dante asks.

Dad shakes his head. “No, we believe not.”

“Why did you want the sword if it has to be kept away from the chalice?” Dante asks.

“So that we knew without a doubt, the two would never be in the same proximity.”

A small vibration in the air in front of me, chills my blood. “By proximity, you mean here?” I croak.

“Hmm?” Mum asks as the sword zings into my hand practically ablaze.

Everyone scoots back as I jump a mile.

“Please tell me the chalice isn’t here!”

“It’s not,” Dad says, keeping a wary eye on the sword. “Hand it over, Gaida.” He holds out his hand.

“You can’t touch it,” I say, shaking my head. “It will fry you.”

“That is a fact,” Dante says.

“Wait! The creepy Equilibrium guys who came to MistHallow said the Blood Sovereign will rise. If they didn’t know it was me, who were they talking about?”

“Draken,” Dad mutters. “They must’ve been talking about Draken.”

“So you have dissension in your ranks?” Dante asks. “Not great.”

“You think?” Dad snaps at him. “You need to leave. Now.”

“What?”

“You need to get back to MistHallow with that sword. It will be wherever you are, and right now you are…”

“Near the chalice,” Dante mutters.

Mum rises, her movements sharp with fear. “You need to leave this house immediately.”

“But—” I protest, staring at the sword in my hand. It pulses with a dark energy that seems to be growing stronger by the second.

“No arguments,” Dad commands, already moving towards the door. “Jorge will take you back to MistHallow. Now.”

Dante stands. “Is the chalice actually in this house?”

“Not exactly,” Mum says cryptically, her eyes never leaving the sword. “But close enough that we can’t risk you staying any longer.”

The sword vibrates more intensely, almost humming with anticipation. I can feel it reaching, searching.

“It knows,” I whisper, horrified. “It can sense the chalice, can’t it?”

Dad’s face is grim. “Yes. And the longer you stay, the stronger that connection becomes.”

A low rumble shakes the house, paintings rattling against the walls. Outside, the sky darkens unnaturally, clouds gathering despite the late hour.

“What’s happening?” Dante asks, moving protectively closer to me.

“The beginning,” Dad says ominously. “When the sword and chalice grow closer, the barriers between worlds thin further.”

I clutch the sword tighter, unsure what to do with it. “I can’t just leave without answers! Where is Draken? How do I stop this?”

Mum throws something at us and it explodes in a cloud of lavender-scented dust.

Choking and waving my free hand about, when the air clears, I discover we are standing in Luke’s office back at MistHallow.