Page 13

Thea

I wasn’t sure how or why it happened, but when I finally unlocked myself from the bedroom where I had a very respectable and much-needed emotional breakdown, I came downstairs to find Hector and Arawn sword fighting in the middle of the drawing room for the—completely irrational in my humble opinion—reason of fun .

Whatever had occurred between Roan and Hector in the study had obviously reassured the latter enough to resume his role of genial host, if, of course, one could call genial the thrusting attack he managed on poor Arawn, who was barely able to refute it with a plunge of his sword. But unlike Hector, I’d received no such assurances and therefore remained very much on edge.

The vision about Kaladin still lingered on me in a persistent prickle at the back of my neck. For the first time in my life, a life filled with brief glimpses into mundane futures, I was confronted by the true gravity of my magic. Yet I did not feel powerful under its divine weight. I felt shell-shocked and helpless, for to see destiny’s plans without knowing if you were meant to follow or defy them seemed more like a curse than a gift to me.

However, if Hector had indeed come to some kind of agreement with Roan, then Kaladin didn’t stand a chance against him. Besides, I’d seen no blood in the vision, no weapons, no extreme physical violence. Vampires were prideful creatures. For all I knew, this fight was going to be about something as harmless as a rude remark and would end up being pacified by one of Arawn’s untoward jokes.

For the sake of my sanity, I allowed myself to believe that, rolling my shoulders to relieve some of the tension they’d been holding, as I took a seat by the fireside.

Arawn let out a low snarl as Hector warded off an impressive high attack with only one hand in the fight, the other folded gallantly behind his back. He didn’t fight like Esperida or Eron. He did not rely on the strength of his body or the steadiness of his blade. Hector’s miracle was speed. He was too fast for human eyes to follow, the gleam of his sword like thunder, a momentary flash in the air. His feet were never still, never hesitant. He was uncatchable.

With a swift brandish, he managed to nick Arawn’s neck, wringing another frustrated hiss from him. Unless their heads were no longer attached to their shoulders or their hearts were no longer residents of their chests, vampires recovered from any other injury easily, and so Arawn’s skin took only a second to reknit itself.

Still, Hector did not relent. He leveled his blade and spun around in a circle to add more power to his next blow, the hem of his shirt escaping the waistband of his trousers and revealing the sculpted muscles of his lower abdomen.

At once, I felt my face grow warm, my mouth desert-dry. “I think I’ll go start on dinner while you boys play with your swords,” I rasped.

Arawn whirled around, a garland of sweat gleaming above his fair brows. “Not so fast, Lady Aventine,” he drawled, and before I knew it, he was tossing away his sword and grabbing me around the waist.

Hector came next, closing us both in a massive embrace, his force so formidable that we all tumbled over. It was a feat to untangle ourselves from each other, and for a few moments we just lay there before the roaring fireplace, panting and chuckling, Hector on my right and Arawn on my left, just as when we were kids.

“I missed you guys,” I sighed, my hand leaving my stomach to rest on the small space between Hector’s body and mine.

Hector dropped his hand as well. “We missed you too,” he whispered.

Slowly, secretly, his little finger curled around mine.

My heart thumped erratically. I twisted my neck, searching for him, but he was staring at the ceiling, his profile golden against the glow of the fire, his disordered hair like the edges of a gilded afternoon.

“So,” said Arawn, his voice a distant murmur, “whose idea was it to pretend you’re married anyway?”

“Mine,” I blurted out. Then sheer, bloody fright swept through me, and I jolted up. I stole a panicked glance at Hector, but he remained perfectly unperturbed. He trusted Arawn with his life, and he would have told him about our little secret from the start had I not insisted upon the danger of implicating him in such a ruse. “How did you know?”

Arawn snorted. “Oh, please. Hector doesn’t have the balls to actually propose to you.”

“Yes, fuck you, too,” said Hector dryly.

“Your wife won’t mind?” Arawn retorted with a wry little smirk.

I tutted at them, shaking my head. “Why do men show their affection by verbally abusing each other? For the love of the sky, you’re adults.”

“Okay, but seriously now,” Arawn persisted, “how did you manage to get yourselves in this situation? Actually, no, let me guess.” He narrowed his eyes theatrically. “You learned about the Aventines, came to check on our darling Hector, the Castle took off, you refused to leave his side, and, of course, he refused to refuse you.”

I gaped at him, genuinely impressed. “You’re good.” I turned to Hector, who was looking at us through amused, half-lidded eyes. “He’s good.”

“Well, it helps that we’ve known each other since we were all this tall,” drawled Arawn, holding his hand only a handful of inches above the pink rug.

“Thea has barely grown any taller,” Hector taunted.

“What?” I squealed, skittering up to my feet to tower over both of them. “I’ll have you know I’m among the tallest women in the Thalorian Court.”

The bastards exchanged an incredulous look before they burst out laughing.

I crossed my arms over my chest, seething, “Bloody vampires.”

Suddenly, the crystals on the sconces stirred, and the shift in optics produced an unsteady rainbow edge, kaleidoscopic light flickering over us. The colors were radiant, uncanny; the forget-me-nots in the vase atop the table were blushing under their brilliance.

We were all together again. And the Castle was alive.