Page 27

Thea

T he Castle appeared black and enormous against the approaching sunrise, the meadow undulating with cotton-thick fog.

The white tendrils hung so densely in the air that at first I didn’t notice him: Dain kneeling in the center of the haze, his face marbled with blood. His throat was stretched back. He was looking up at someone. Hector.

Hector.

I almost collapsed when I saw him, the ground slipping off my feet. He was not only alive but also standing over Dain like a column of light, solid and shining bright with power.

Sobs racked my chest as I screamed his name with whatever air was left in my lungs. He veered, and the searching hope in his gaze was the most familiar thing in the entire world to me.

I’d like to say that our collision was a cosmic one, all force and spark and fate. But it was the opposite. It was easy and peaceful, like closing the door between you and an ocean of noise. I caught him around the waist and buried my face in his blood-soaked shirt. He kept still with his arms hanging open, too astonished to even release the breath I heard climb up his throat. It could have been a single moment or the sum of an eternity by the time he spoke, and I wouldn’t have known the difference.

“You’re here,” he rasped into my hair.

Furiously, I drew back and smacked his sternum with my fists. “Of course I’m here! How could you do this to me? Do you have any idea how scared I was?”

The guilt in his face was as raw as the skin of his hands that shone dark with dirt and blood. The sight of him cut me open, even as a part of me floundered in the maelstrom of my anger. I wanted to scream at him, hit him, do all the terrible things Dain had failed to do. But I also wanted to close him in my arms and forget all the rest, forget all the misery and despair that was unraveling around us.

Roan was focused on holding up Tieran, who seemed to be on the verge of collapse, so there were only Espen and Collette to restrain Dahlia as she writhed and thrashed, wailing inconsolably. Sybella was standing high up by the entrance of the Castle, staring at her husband with what could only be described as flaming rage. But Kaladin was paying no attention to her. His dark eyes were pinned down on Dain, the first beams of mourning dawning in them already.

“Hector,” Dain choked out, an efflux of dark blood pouring out of his mouth. “Finish it.”

“No!” Dahlia howled, and in her mania managed to escape and flung her body over Dain’s.

Espen started toward us, his face sickened with dread for his daughter’s fate. “Dahlia, get away from him now!”

Dahlia ignored him. She stared up at Hector, her expression relentless despite her tear-stained cheeks. “You’ll have to kill me too.”

Hector let out a soft sigh, pushing the drenched tips of his hair away from his eyes. There was a sticky gash along his forehead as if Dain had struck it with a rock. It took more strength than I knew I had in me not to moan at the sight of it. Even the skin around his knuckles had yet to knit, his healing process slowed by the severity of his wounds. That was how close he’d come to death. That was how close I’d come to losing him.

Finally he turned, towering over Dain and Dahlia’s knotted forms like Death himself, impervious and immortal. He bent to grab Dain’s arm with one hand and Dahlia’s with the other, forcing them both up to their feet. “No more,” he said in a steady, solemn voice. “No more death.”

Without another word, he crossed the wildflower path and glided up the Castle’s stone steps in his unhurried, otherworldly grace.

Once he reached the landing, he faced Kaladin, pointing a finger at the Castle’s entrance. “Look at this door,” he thundered. “Look at its filigree. Look at the initial that’s carved into its eternal flesh. This is not a property you can claim. It is not a temple to lay your worship upon its marbles. The Castle is alive. It has a soul, and it belongs to my mother.”

The Castle seemed to rise at these words, ready to tear a hole in the veil of clouds and scrape the stars. I half-expected it to do so, and my breath hitched with thrill. But the Castle performed no such miracle. It merely hung there between land and sky, a mere ghost of itself.

“And you are right,” Hector continued somberly. “I am not nearly as capable or charismatic or strong as she was. But at least I would never disgrace the Castle with my greed like you’ve all done tonight.” His hard gaze locked with Kaladin’s once more. “If you’re still unwilling to pledge your loyalty to me, I will strip you of your title and appoint someone else Lord of the South, and I will do so gladly. But then again, how can I relieve you from a title you never really had? After all, my mother did not appoint you Lord of the South, but Sybella.” He turned to her, sharp as a blade. “You failed her the second you relinquished this honor to him. However, if you do give me your oath along with Espen and Arawn at dusk, as tradition wants it, I will forgive your transgressions for the sake of your son. Because that is the humane thing to do. Because what you consider to be my greatest weakness is the very strength that holds our two worlds together. My heart is human, and so my heart forgives.” Hector stepped forward, coming toe-to-toe with Kaladin. “But make no mistake, it will not forget. And neither will the Castle. Aventine blood was spilled at its doorstep tonight, and if you think it will ever accept you as its master after this, then your greatest sin is not your greed but your folly, and for that alone we can all agree you are unfit to replace me.”

He gave them a moment to process, to protest, but none of them did. Their mouths were pulled thin, their eyes downcast, their bodies made small before the grandness that was him. If it was out of fear or respect, I didn’t know and didn’t think it mattered anymore.

When I was a little girl, I watched the vampires gather in the Castle and let myself believe they were one huge, messy family. But I’d been wrong to see their balance through a human lens, for that was all they were. A balance. One that was easy to disturb, easier to shatter. That was why they needed their divine oaths and secret codes of honor. Their instincts betrayed their civility. They could only trust their laws.

“Very well,” Hector permitted, sailing down the stone steps.

Espen cut in front of him. “About Camilla,” was all he said, his voice ragged.

To my surprise, Hector leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Something that made Espen’s dark brows draw closer and his eyes widen. Warily, he gave Hector a small, consenting nod and removed himself from his path.

Hector came and swept my hand in his. My limbs were heavy as lead, but I walked, solid and proud beside him, and when his hand in mine started to shake, I only held it tighter.

We were almost at the landing when a loud groan sounded behind us. “Well, at least you’re alive.”

It was Arawn. Thank the gods , it was Arawn.

He looked exhausted, panting at the ground with his hands on his knees. His golden locks were strewn with twigs and leaves, and his clothes were torn in places as if he’d gone through the forest with the speed of a hurricane.

Hector blinked at him, bewildered. “What happened to you?”

Arawn glared, tipping his jaw in my direction. “ She happened to me.”

Hector looked at me, strained with guilt. Good , I thought bitterly. He should feel guilty. He should suffer just like he made me suffer tonight .

“Thea…” he whispered.

I didn’t stay to listen to his apology. I forced my aching body to climb the last of the steps and went inside.

The Castle stood cold and silent, not a stitch of light in sight.

Perhaps Hector was right. Perhaps the Castle could not be inherited. It would still exist in outbursts of magic, granting us our frivolous, mundane wishes, but its soul and spirit would always belong to Esperida. Perhaps we were doomed to spend our lives walking over the ruins of her memory.