Page 38 of Seared Fates

Silence, his lips a thin line while pretending to scan the page.

“Rahim.” A soft smile pulls at my lips as I crouch in front of him and reach for a strand of his long hair, twirling the lock around my finger. So lovely, my Rahim. My neglected offspring, who’s a slip of darkest silk—so quiet and mysterious.

“You and Kai became close quickly.” I tug on his hair slightly. “Should I be jealous?”

Ramy’s head snaps up to pin me with an unimpressed glare, and my lip quirks up.

“Kai and I are just friends, Maker. Obviously.”

I hum, nodding. “And what of your lonely Maker? Am I no longer your friend?”

His response is an indignant sniff.

I grin. I can’t help myself. Ramy is kind and patient with others; only I get this side of him. A thought comes to me out of nowhere—how similar he is to Kai. While different, they're bothbeautiful, smaller and delicate than I could ever be, and call on a deep need within my soul to protect them.

And I’ve failed them both. Sighing, my thoughts return to why I’m here.

I lean closer, filling my nose with his sweet rose scent. “I’ve come to apologise.”

“Have you apologised properly to Kai first?” Ramy says, waving me off.

“That’s between him and me.”

Ramy opens his mouth, but I hold a finger up to stop him.

“I have to apologise for the way I’ve treated you when I was in my apathy. Before that, even. I called you horrible things and treated you with no respect. If another mandaredbehave that way to you, I would’ve slaughtered him.”

While Ramy has never brought a lover home—that I’m aware of, anyway—even the thought of him being taken for granted makes me itch for a weapon.

“Kai is more important—”

“You, Rahim,” I tug on his hair so he has no other choice but to see my honesty, “are very important to me, too.”

Ramy huffs, levelling me with an exasperated expression.

“Honestly, poor Kai.” And he pulls his hair from my grasp. “Those hurts are all in the past now, Maker, can’t they just stay there? I only want to focus on the future.”

“No, Rahim. I made you a vampire ten years ago because I thought you would cure me of my apathy and make me happy again—or at the very least, help mefeelanything. I promised you’d be welcomed into my family, but all I did was demand that you look after me while the rest of us fell apart.”

Ramy places his book on the arm of the chair and runs slender fingers over his knitted blanket.

“You didn’t demand anything, Maker. I came willingly. I wanted a change,” he replies gently.

“A change, yes.” I hesitate before tucking his long hair behind his ear, then lay my hand on his cheek. “Not a burden. I want you to have your adventures, so once this blood mage mess is cleaned up, I’ll show you the world—just like I promised you in a little tea shop ten years ago.”

Ramy searches my face.

“Can I trust you, Maker?” His voice may be little more than a whisper, yet each word packs enough punch to crush my heart. It hurts to be asked. It hurts more that he has to.

“You can,” I vow. “Things will change now I’ve returned. Get better.”

Finally, Ramy smiles, small and hesitant and wonderful, like the first time I met him in a forgotten shop, in the corner of a forgotten town.

“I guess I’ll forgive you,” Ramy says, sighing in a long-suffering way, his smile never shifting. “But you promise we’ll live by the sea one day?”

I grin, glad that I didn’t completely ruin something. “Of course, Rahim. One day you’ll get everything you desire and more.”

I know my youngest hasn’t forgiven all my mistakes. That will take longer than a few exchanged words. But it’s a start, at least.