Page 39

Hector

F or the life of me, I could not understand where the Dreaming Palace had gotten its name from, for there was nothing dreamy, sleepy, or remotely relaxing about it.

It was magical, certainly—this was the Faraway North, after all—but unlike the Castle with its slow rhythms and fragments of the universe, the Palace’s magic was a game of optics, of elaborate tricks and phantasmagoric illusions.

The rooms were ever-changing, bursting out into new scenery when you least expected it. Outside, ivied pavilions emerged in the hearts of elaborate hedge mazes, and silver fountains ran with waters the color of dittany. Everything and everyone was restless and excited, like a hive of bees buzzing over one thing or another, which was partly why I was suffering from my first-ever headache. The other half of the blame lay with the heir to this extravagant wonderland. Apollo Zayra of Thaloria.

The man would not stop questioning me about everything I was, everything I did, everything I intended to do in the near and distant future, and, gods give me patience, my intentions for Thea.

As a matter of fact, I’d been given less grief from Thea’s father, and he was already the king of disdainful side glances and thinly veiled insults.

But at least Thea was happy.

She’d been practically beaming with joy ever since the Castle brought us North. Here, in the beautiful, wonderstruck rooms of the Palace, surrounded by endless merriment and thrill, she was in her true element. I was confident now that moving to Thaloria had been the right choice for us.

Nepheli was just as Thea had described. Clever-eyed, soft-mouthed, charmingly observant. She was also infinitely loving towards Thea, and for that alone I liked her the best. Her choice of husband could have been a little better, but, oh well, nobody was perfect.

“You have to admit, it is a bit strange to wear the wristlet when you haven’t even proposed to the girl,” Apollo went on and on and on .

The girls had seated us on a bench at the edge of a cloud-painted room that was teeming with tables laden with various flower arrangements, colorful parades of cakes, and fountains of flavored wines. The pink marble floor lay littered with chests overflowing with fabrics and all sorts of sparkly adornments that, after an hour and a half of their glittering, had succeeded in making even my vampire eyes burn.

Occasionally, they would ask our opinion about something or other only to ignore it and continue fawning over their original choice, despite having reassured us that there were no right answers. Of course, there were right answers. Apollo was just terrible at them because the man was practically colorblind. And then they dared to compare us to bats.

If all wedding preparations were as painstaking and exuberant as this one, perhaps eloping was not such a terrible idea after all. It wasn’t like I had anyone to invite to the ceremony anyway. For all intents and purposes and for the sake of vampire society, Thea and I were already married.

“Like I said,” I gritted out. “I’ll propose to her soon.”

Apollo, who was famed to be the most charming and handsome man in the entire Faraway North but seemed like an insufferable, pompous wanker to me, narrowed his grey eyes and crossed his unreasonably massive arms before his chest as if to underline his suspicion. “When is soon, exactly?”

“ Soon meaning a furthest point in time, or alternatively, none of your damned business,” I bristled.

Apollo’s smirk verged on demonic. “Careful, Aventine. I know sixty-three ways to kill you.”

I reciprocated the smile, ensuring my fangs were in full display. “You need sixty-three ways to kill me, Zayra? I need only one.”

“Aw, look at you grinning at each other,” Thea crooned as she and Nepheli strolled over to us, arm in arm.

When they reached us, Nepheli tucked the silver strands of her hair behind her ears, revealing a pair of teardrop-shaped earrings. “Pink or blue?” she asked Apollo, and as he cast that infernal grin upon her, the girl’s cheeks burned the brightest shade of red.

“Pink,” decided Apollo, although he wasn’t looking at her earrings at all.

Nepheli chewed at the corner of her lip, her brows knitting. “Are you sure? Pink is not really my color.”

“Every color is your color,” argued Apollo.

“I think the colors would disagree,” clipped Nepheli.

Apollo stood to take her chin between his fingers. “Darling, if a color gives you trouble, you tell me, and I’ll beat it to death.” That last remark came with a very pointed glance in my direction. It took more self-restraint than I knew I had in me not to bare my fangs again.

“You’re impossible,” sighed Nepheli, disentangling herself from him.

Apollo, insouciant as a satyr on a banquet, sauntered after her with his hands in his pockets. “You mean impossibly charming, right?”

Finally.

Blessed silence.

“You’re bored,” Thea accused, taking a seat on my lap.

I wound an arm around her midriff and brought her further back so she’d be more comfortable. “No, this is… fun.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not. I’m having fun watching you have fun.”

That she accepted, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Sorry if it’s taking forever.”

But now that I had her here, time was moving fast again, and forever seemed like a single moment.

“Forever is fine with me,” I murmured against her skin, running my fingers through her soft, unbound curls.

Then she was back with Nepheli, laughing over a cup of peach-colored wine. As she stood there, bathed in the bright morning light, so ethereal she was more apparition than flesh and bones, I couldn’t help but think of the divine, the stray chance that some mystic force between the stars had willed Dorothea into my life.

I never believed in destiny. What a ridiculous, self-deprecating notion it was. Random disasters and random blessings, miracles and misfortunes, uncertainties and unseen patterns, all converging on the same indefinable point without the hope that a different choice might have changed everything.

I’d always thought we were nothing but a collection of choices, whether arbitrary or intentional, and that the first serious one I’d ever made was to love her. I didn’t fall in love with her. I chose it, my eyes wide open, deciding every wrong and right step along the way. And I could almost see it now—our whole lives: a complex of choices ricocheting into the present.

No, I did not believe in destiny. But, gods knew, I believed in her.