Page 4

Thea

D awn arrived with the remnants of a strange dream lingering in the forefront of my consciousness. Even in dream form, it was a shock to see Esperida. That was how arresting she was. Her radiance. Her imposing presence. The feral, unpredictable quality of her smile, down to the way she moved, swift and graceful like a marsh bird.

In the dream, she was in a mirror or perhaps watching me through a mirror, the glass as sleek and trembling as a puddle of rain. I stood before it, dreading to gaze directly at her, as if to look upon her face was to violate the very laws that separated the world of the living from the one of the dead. And just as I mustered the courage, just as I was about to lift my eyes to hers, a white vapor rolled between us, and I woke up.

Despite the eerie feeling the dream left me, I was determined to make the most of today. When the first strips of light branched into the bedroom and glazed over the armchair in which I’d found my rest yesterday, I got up at once, checked on Hector, who was still very much knocked out, and then headed downstairs to retrieve my suitcase.

I decided it was better to forget the whole Hector-pinning-me-to-the-bed incident and focus on the matter at hand. Reviving the Castle and its drunken wanker of a master.

I settled myself into the room nearest Hector’s lest he needed something—perhaps a reminder to drink less wine and more blood—then I washed, changed into a muslin dress, and went on a mission to find some firewood for the stove, because not even a cranky old castle was going to keep me from having my morning tea.

In the lemon-bright light of day, things didn’t seem so dreadful. The Castle still kept the majority of its rooms and corridors clean of dirt and dust, and there was nothing a little fresh air and some tidying up couldn’t fix.

But first: heat.

Something about all of this chill and somberness felt wrong. It wasn’t just that the Castle was in mourning. It was missing presence, sentience. It was missing its soul. Or, perhaps, since the Castle was a direct reflection of its master’s emotional and mental state, this was how Hector felt on the inside now. Cold and dark and bereft of all essence.

If I were being honest, I wished I had the luxury of breaking down myself, especially after what Hector said last night. Everyone always leaves me.

To be left was inevitable. It was pointless to fight it. But how do you move on after you’ve been left? How do you put one foot in front of the other and arrange yourself a new path?

This sounded like the kind of question Esperida would know how to answer. She would put her hand on your shoulder or take your chin between her fingers and tell you in that gentle but firm manner of hers something simple, something you could easily understand, and insist on it until you gave yourself the answer you’ve been looking for all along.

She had visited me in Thaloria only six months ago, and if I closed my eyes now and concentrated hard enough, I could conjure the feeling of her warm touch on my shoulder, her wise voice in my ear.

A part of me still refused to believe that she was gone. She had to be somewhere around here. In her study. In the observatory. Down in the kitchen baking her awful cookies.

Yes, she had to be there.

But when I rushed downstairs, I found the kitchen lightless and empty. No warmth. No laughter. No Esperida covered in flour and no Eron pretending that her foul concoctions were the best things he’d ever tasted.

Wiping tears from the corners of my eyes, I gathered the firewood that was stacked in a corner and got the stove going. I only saved a couple of logs so I could light the hearth in Hector’s room. Back at my parents’ house, I used to think it was drudgery to get the fireplaces going. Now I was glad to have my hands full, to be preoccupied with dull, mundane tasks.

So, I busied myself with brewing a cup of tea using the dried mint leaves I found hanging from a string over the arched window of the kitchen. The tea, of course, did not taste like mint. Every sip came with new depth and complexity, spices and herbs mingling in unexpected bursts of sweetness. Esperida believed that the Castle was conjuring things, including food and refreshments, from the Fey Realm, but not even she had discovered the full extent of the Castle’s magic. For all we knew, it fed us the very substance of the gods.

Regardless, I enjoyed my mysterious, ever-changing tea crouched over the stove to keep myself warm, and after I was done and felt a bit more composed, I grabbed the two logs and trailed upstairs.

I had left Hector’s door only a bit ajar, and since my hands were full now, I had to use my back to push it fully open. As I stepped inside, I was alarmed to find the floor clean, the bed empty, and the tangle of sheets and covers perfectly made.

For a moment, I merely stared, questioning the reality of last night. Perhaps I’d gotten sick, and it had all been the product of a wild fever dream. Or even worse, some kind of illusion a fairy had forced on me after capturing me in the forest. My mind jumped from one dreadful scenario to another until a sudden creak snapped me out of it.

Tendrils of steam crawled out of the narrow door of the adjoining room as if it were the mouth of a very angry dragon—or the chamber of a freshly bathed vampire.

A second later, Hector emerged from the haze.

Naked.

Naked like the day he was born, with only a small towel thrown over his head. His long-limbed body glistened with droplets of water, and his cock simply… hung there for the world to see.

And by the gods, there was so much of it.

The logs fell from my arms and hit my left foot. I shrieked, hopping around, which earned me another surge of pain as I lost my balance and hit my hip against the handle of the door.

Hector looked up and screamed too, the towel on his head flying away.

“Why are you naked?” I squealed.

“Why are you here?” he growled, and in a second, he was on me, his strong hands seizing my arms.

I groaned, pinning my eyes to the ceiling. “And it’s touching my thigh. Your cock is touching my thigh.”

He swayed back, attempting to cover himself with his hands. “Don’t say cock. Since when do you say cock?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, please put the proverbial basilisk away before I cut off its head,” I snarled, feeling the skin of my face going from hot to blazing.

He moved around the room with the speed of a fallen star, and before I knew it, he was dressed in a pair of simple black trousers and a billowy white shirt. His hair had dried from the remarkable velocity and was left in a perfect jumble of raven strands, framing a face so striking it could make even a god envious.

For the first time in four years, our eyes held. “Thea,” he breathed out, “for the love of the sky, what are you doing here?”

I pulled myself straight, throwing my hands up in the air, exhaustion and indignation washing over me in alternating waves. “I don’t know, Hector, maybe I’m here because you didn’t bother to tell me that Esperida and Eron are dead!”

I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. I was hurt. No, I was grief-stricken and more heartbroken than words could ever express. The very ground seemed to have lost its point of gravity. All I could do anymore was float aimlessly in the vastness of their absence. But if I felt like that, I couldn’t even begin to imagine how devastated Hector was.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, nervously brushing my palms over my skirt. “I came here to see you, not to yell at you.”

Hector rubbed at his temples, his dark, feathery lashes lowering over his cheekbones. “Wait a second. Last night did I…”

“Pinned me to your bed and licked my neck?”

Now he looked even worse than devastated. He looked utterly appalled, which made me wish I’d kept my silence all the more. “Did I hurt you? Thea, did I touch you?”

Something inside me twisted. I’d never seen him like this before. Hector had always been the stronger one between us. Now he seemed to be just as lost as I was, and I had no idea how to help either of us.

I crossed the distance and took his hands in mine. So many things were different about him, but his hands were the same. I know these hands , I thought, and found more comfort in his touch than I’d felt in years. “Please don’t give yourself a heart attack over this. You were drunk, and I did ambush you, but nothing bad happened.”

He recoiled from me, his face as hard as granite. “Tell me the truth, did I do something to offend you?”

“If you’d done something to offend me, I wouldn’t have left you with anything between your legs to swing around now,” I huffed.

Hector shook his head, unwaveringly horrified. “I swear, I will not touch another glass of wine in my life.”

At that, I almost burst out laughing. “Okay, now you’re just being dramatic.”

“I thought I was dreaming,” he murmured.

“I know. Your mystery woman.”

“Mystery woman?”

“The one you kept ranting about last night. The one who smells like honey and a baby unicorn’s breath, apparently.”

He blinked in comical bewilderment. Well, comical for me, at least. “What?”

“The mystery woman . The object of your darkest desires and most unutterable longings. Are you having some kind of illicit affair? Is she married? Oh, is she a priestess? Did you make her break her divine oath of celibacy with your irresistible vampire charm?”

Hector groaned, slumping on the bench at the foot of the bed. “What are you talking about? What is happening right now?”

I pressed my lips together, stifling a rather fiendish chuckle as I settled down next to him. “I’m sorry, Hector dear, but you know me. Confusing intelligent men is my favorite pastime.”

“Can we start over?” he asked wearily, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I think I’m still a little drunk.”

“Sure,” I chirped.

This was good. This was normal.

And yet, for every part of him that was familiar, there was one I did not recognize. His shoulders did not slouch like they used to. His hands did not fall awkwardly at his sides. His limbs arranged themselves with perfect grace as if for a painter to capture.

“You look different,” I said, half-praise, half-accusation.

It surprised him. “I do?”

“Your face.”

He touched self-conscious fingers to his temple. I felt bold enough to lean in, cup the back of his hand, and guide it gently to the plump bow of his mouth. “Here,” I said, then moved it lower to trace the firmness of his jaw. “Here.” Lower still, to the base of his neck where his skin began pulling tight with muscle. “Here.”

As he swallowed, my fingers threaded between his and rode against the motion. It was with great difficulty that I managed to untangle my hand from his, drawing back on the bench.

“Is that all?” he asked, unaffected, it seemed.

I glanced lower at his covered stomach, his thighs, everything in between. “You look different everywhere.”

He said nothing, which was just like him.

I poked the side of his arm with my finger. “Do I look different?”

“I suppose you do.”

“Do I look womanly?”

I knew I did, but I wanted him to say it. I wasn’t sure why. I just wanted him to raise his eyes now and gaze at me like a man tempted.

But when he lifted his head, there was no desire, no admiration in him, only a sharp, almost vindictive coldness. “Where is your husband, Thea?”

The air thinned as soon as he said it.

I had to swallow several times before I was able to speak, and even then my voice left me low and strained. “You mean Jasper.”

Hector gritted his teeth, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Is that his name? I don’t recall. To me he’s just the nobody your parents chose for you.”

The resentment in his eyes was a double-edged blade. Either way, it cut me. “I had a say in the matter, you know. They didn’t choose him for me and certainly not for the reasons you think.”

“Really?” he prodded venomously. “So they didn’t favor him for his relation to the royal family? Was it his inability to appreciate sarcasm, his disinterest in anything that doesn’t involve boats, or his receding hairline that won over their hearts, then?”

You don’t recall, huh? I almost taunted. Instead, I pleaded, “Hector.”

“No, please, enlighten me. What exactly makes a man who pursues a woman for her beauty alone with no regard for her feelings, dreams, and aspirations such a fine and irreplaceable suitor?”

I knew he was angry at me, but gods, did he have to make it sound as though my parents were monsters and I some mindless puppet?

Of course , they had asked for my permission. In fact, we discussed my union with Lord Jasper several times before they allowed him to officially propose to me. At the end of the day, they just wanted me to have a life of greater opportunity and for the family to gain a title. And there was nothing wrong with that. Marrying Lord Jasper, who was second cousin to the King of Thaloria, would have brought nothing but honor and prosperity to the Valentia household.

Sure, Jasper was a little… ungainly, and, yes, I didn’t personally care about status, but it had been my family’s greatest wish to see me in the Dreaming Palace, working for the Queen. “Foresight and diplomacy—these are your gods-given gifts, Thea,” Mother would always admonish me. “Do you really want to waste them in dusty old Steria?”

Steria was not the problem, though. With its quaint market and picturesque houses, Steria was considered one of the most beautiful northern villages and even attracted tourists during harvest season. Steria wasn’t the reason I yearned for something greater than I was given, but the Castle. Within its walls I’d seen and experienced things beyond the wildest human imagination. Nothing in my life back home could compare to the grandness and sheer impossibility of this place. After a childhood of such wonder, only a city like Thaloria, where magic was taught like religion and breathed like the air, could appease my miracle-hungry heart. I understood now that Mother had recognized this about me all along. She just hadn’t believed me capable of surviving on my own out there, untitled and unmarried.

And at any rate, there were worse fates than marrying a complete stranger. I couldn’t promptly think of one, but I’m certain there were.

“Well, we didn’t get married anyway. So this conversation is pointless,” I muttered.

Hector’s face darkened like the sky before a storm. “Don’t tell me the wanker backed down.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, more pleased with this reaction than I had the right to be. “What if he did? Will you march into Thaloria and defend my honor?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I do not march . I will merely find and castrate him.”

“How chivalrous.”

He glared at me. “What happened?”

My stupid heart. That was what happened.

At eighteen, my life had been nothing more than an orderly checklist. After all, not all of us had castles in the sky that held the wisdom of the universe and enough magic to transform your perception of the impossible forever. Some of us had no choice but to live on land under the practical, unromantic light of reality. But in the end, my desire for impractical, romantic things grew larger than my desire to make my parents proud. It was selfish of me, I knew, but of all the sins, to put myself first did not seem so wretched.

I spent my whole life lost in pages of books that told stories of the bravery and passion of characters whose only duty lay with their hearts. And I wanted to live like that too. I wanted the chance to find out who I was when I didn’t let the expectations of others reform me. I wanted to make a hundred heartbreaking mistakes and have the courage to pay for all of them. I wanted a love I was terrified to lose, agony and rapture inseparable from each other. And I didn’t want a happy ending. Only the beginning of something worth fighting for.

“I was too selfish to go through with it,” I admitted, releasing a sigh from the cage of my chest.

A spark of relief flared in his eyes. “Good,” he said. “You ought to be selfish. It’s your life.” Then, with a bit more restraint, he asked, “Were Eleanor and Ajax upset?”

I curled my fingers under the edge of the bench, desperate for something to hold on to. “They were surprised, mostly, but they forgave me. And Queen Eloise kept me at the court regardless.”

Hector snorted. “To find another husband, no doubt.”

Heat crawled over the sides of my neck, frustration sizzling in my veins.

The Queen of Thaloria didn’t keep me in her service out of magnanimity but because I’d proven myself a formidable diplomat and a careful advisor, someone who didn’t need familial connections to uphold a position in her court.

It was hard at first. For the longest time, I felt like a little girl abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Until I didn’t. Until I realized that my will was greater than my reality. I stopped telling myself the same old story that I was only there to appease someone else’s ambition. I had ambition and hope and determination in my veins. I wanted to stay in Thaloria, and I made this dream come true.

But, of course, Hector had never met this version of me. In his mind, I was still that eighteen-year-old girl who had let the world convince her that the only way she could achieve her dreams was through an obedient smile and a convenient marriage. And once Hector’s good opinion was lost, nothing short of a miracle could recover it. That was the vampire nature, after all. They were absolute creatures, their passions exceptional and pure. When they loved you, they worshiped you like a god. When they lusted after you, they consumed the very essence of your being. When they hated you, they made you wish you’d never crossed their paths. Like the stars, they were the fixtures of the night, eternal and unchangeable. Or so they believed themselves to be. And in the end, what you believed you became.

“Is that what you think of me, Hector?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light despite the heaviness of my heart. “That I spend my days hunting husbands for sport?”

He looked away, the column of his throat bobbing. “You don’t want to know what I think of you, Thea.”

“That bad, huh?”

Several moments passed before either of us spoke or even moved. Then Hector let out a resigned sigh. “I can’t believe you came here.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t write to me,” I countered.

“We haven’t spoken in four years,” was his sole excuse, his fingers curling under the edge of the bench, next to my own.

“So what? We might not be friends anymore, but we’re not enemies, either,” I argued, and when he didn’t respond, I pressed closer.

We’d sat this close before, closer even. Upstairs, at the observatory, we used to lie down right next to each other and watch the pinpricks of stars twinkle beyond the glass ceiling. He used to lean over me, pointing and naming the constellations, while I nodded distractedly, thinking that he was prettier than all the universe put together. Back then, I wouldn’t feel the kind of disquietude I felt now, as if the very nearness of our bodies was a weapon pointed at my chest.

Under the bench, his pinky finger brushed mine, and my heart rushed to that spot, to the tantalizing sensation of a secret touch. “You don’t hate me,” I said, looking into his eyes.

His brows raised in wry amusement. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you, of course. We have too many wonderful memories together to be enemies.”

“I can’t recall a single decent memory with you,” he claimed.

I laughed, some of the tension melting from my body. “You’ve always been such a terrible liar. It’s what I like most about you.”

“Not my irresistible vampire charm ?” he mocked.

“Oh, please, there is nothing charming about you. You have the social graces and general attractiveness of a bat.”

He shook his head, as indignant as ever. “You, Dorothea Valentia, are the bane of my existence.”

“Well, with a little work I’m sure I can be promoted to the destroyer of your soul,” I chirped, nudging his shoulder with mine.

Our faces leveled. His eyes fell to my mouth, then lower, to my throat, the tip of his tongue passing over his fuller bottom lip. I pulled back an inch, scrutinizing the purple shadows under his eyes. “Hector, when’s the last time you fed?”

He sat up straighter, his shirt straining against the new broadness of his shoulders. “I don’t know. Recently.”

Vampires, although perfectly able to consume regular human food, received most of their nutrition from blood, and they could only go a couple of months without it before they started to decay. From the look of him, I’d say he hadn’t consumed a single drop for at least two weeks now.

Swiftly, I got up and went to the round table by the window, where a collection of crystal decanters and empty glasses was arranged atop a silver tray. These bottles I knew contained blood and not wine, for they gleamed with condensation as the Castle kept them eternally chilled.

“I understand that you’re grieving,” I rasped, my throat tight as a vise. “But you have to take better care of yourself.”

In the tense silence that followed, I watched the blood swirl inside the crystal cup and felt it grow warm against my palm, the strong metallic smell crawling under my nostrils. Bringing it back to him, I couldn’t help but hold it as far away from me as possible. “Gods, what is this?”

“Bunny,” said Hector.

I pouted. “Poor bunny.”

As I offered him the glass, our hands touched, and a crackling current passed from his skin to mine. The vision came like that too—a strike of lightning running down the darkness of my mind, then a feeling of airlessness, of separating from my physical vessel. I saw a man, a tall, black-clad man, the only visible part of his body his hands, which were slender and so white they verged on grey. It seemed as though he was walking away from me, his dark figure shrinking toward an indistinct brightness. Then, in a heart-skip, he reappeared right before me, looming out of tendrils of fog in his black and crimson livery. Death , the words swelled like a hissing rush of wind in my mind. He’s coming.

Hector took the glass from my hand, and the vision washed away, the familiar room reemerging in all its dark finery.

I hardly had the time to make sense of who or what I’d just seen before I became painfully aware of the way I stood over Hector, right between his spread knees. I was so close I could see the chiseled valley of his sternum, peering through the undone collar of his shirt.

Slowly, without tearing his gaze from mine, Hector set the glass aside and reached out a hand as if to grip my hip. I froze in anticipation, but his fingers paused mere inches away, flexing over the fabric of my dress.

An unfamiliar, all-consuming longing kindled in my blood. I wanted him to touch me, to grab me and pull me down on his lap. But even as he stood up, his open hand glided from my hip to my waist without ever touching me, only the space around my body.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” he said in some kind of a trance. “Are you scared or excited?”

“Hector,” I croaked, my cheeks blazing. “You shouldn’t jest like that. We’re not children anymore.”

His chin tilted forward, his lips lowering to mine. “No, we’re not.”

Suddenly, the floor beneath our feet jolted. I pitched forward, falling headlong into Hector’s arms. Then the entire room tilted, the iron chandelier swaying dangerously overhead. Shelves popped open. Various knickknacks rolled over and crashed to the floor. The cup Hector had left atop the bench toppled down, and blood crawled around our shoes.

“What—what is happening?” I panted, holding on to him for dear life.

“The Castle,” Hector growled. “It’s moving.”