Page 6

Thea

A vision of myself standing in the middle of the Castle’s library pierced me right between the eyes, and I decided it was probably wiser not to go against what fate had already written.

Perhaps the word vision was a bit dramatic, but I didn’t know how else to describe the nature of my magic. First, I would get this tingling sensation at the nape of my neck, which would quickly shift into a feeling of weightlessness. Then the physical world would wash away, and scenes from the future would unravel before my wide-open eyes. Scenes that were often so brief and trivial that I almost felt like a fraud calling them visions and myself a real seer.

On the cusp of something— that was how I felt inside my skin. I spent every hour of every day waiting for the truth of my life to crack open and reveal itself to me.

Regardless, I gathered my skirts and stormed up the stairs, following the corridor that used to lead to the library, various lounging rooms, and the ballroom. After that I knew that another sweeping staircase led even higher to the observatory and Esperida’s study, but I was certain the vision, no matter how fleeting, had shown me the library, for I’d gotten a glimpse of an impossibly high ceiling, black as the night sky and encrusted with just as many stars.

The familiar door with its gilded frame inlaid with whorls of nacre emerged at the end of the corridor, grand and mysterious like a portal to another world.

I hesitated before it with a ribbon of anxiety wrapped around my heart.

You shouldn’t have come, Thea. There is nothing left for you here.

I wasn’t sure if the feelings Hector had harbored for me once were as passionate as he’d described, but I did know his pride was formidable enough to have erased every trace of them after our separation. I also knew that pushing people away was what Hector did best. He never burdened others with the things he thought he could handle himself. He never said, I’m tired, or I’m lost, or I’m heartbroken . He never asked for help. So, now, I was going to ask for his help. I was going to stay here because I needed him. And if somewhere along the way he realized that he, too, needed someone to get through this, then I would be right here, by his side.

I took a heartening breath and opened the door.

The room was… different, as most things about the Castle were. Yes, the expansive walls were still covered with towering bookshelves stuffed full of books, promising you a sweet escape into the boundless realm of imagination, and yes, the ceiling was still a dark dome, holding the moon and all the other twinkling mysteries of the sky, but no celestial bodies were dancing amid the clouds, no glowing star was flooding the room in silver light. They were magnificently painted, but they were not alive .

Even the grand fireplace, which occupied most of the wall left from the door, was hollow and lightless behind its hive-like screen. In fact, the only light came from the stained glass window, casting cobweb shadows over the mahogany bookshelves.

Before me sprawled a series of cushioned couches and armchairs, floating over a sea of elegant rugs. The little wooden tables between them were all littered with stacks of books, unlit candles, and porcelain vases holding bouquets of dead roses. And in the center of it all, on a large velvet couch, lay Hector, absorbed in a massive black book. On the side table next to him, a half-empty cup of blood glinted vividly, and as I sailed a bit closer, I was pleased to see that the purple shadows beneath his eyes had vanished and the color had returned to his face.

Well, at least he was no longer starving himself.

See? I was good for him. The idiot needed me here. He just didn’t know it yet.

Hector changed the page on the book with an indolent flick of his thumb, continuing to ignore me.

“So,” I prompted, strolling inside the room with my arms wrapped around my middle for some warmth. “Are you going to tell me what happened to the Castle?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Well, it’s cold and drab and miserable.”

“It can also hear you.”

“And what’s with all the ugly paintings?” I persisted. “How can you even sleep with all these red-eyed skulls watching you day and night?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, what exactly did you want the Castle to display for you in its moment of grief? Baskets of kittens? Beach landscapes? Perhaps one of those caricatures of half-naked men one finds in the backs of those infernal books you like so much?”

“Do not insult my books.”

The way he returned his attention to that ridiculous tome of his without so much as a hum of acknowledgment was a study in indifference.

“Insufferable man,” I hissed, whirling around.

I intended to go down to the kitchen and look for some firewood. But then I noticed it. Atop the pedestal by the door, the roses inside the small crystal vase were in bloom.

Slowly, I veered again, my mouth falling open as I watched the bookshelves lit up from within, the countless rows of books glowing vibrant and precious all around me. The sky above exploded like a firework, stars twinkling softly in the tender hands of the Castle’s eternal night. Under the sea of stars, the sea of candles flickered to life, tiny flames bobbing up one by one. Next to them, the dead bouquets unfurled into blooming buds, dark red and pulsing like my heart, which was about to grow wings and fly up into the coruscating ceiling.

The sudden uproar of the fire made me spin once more as crackling flames emerged on the hearth, painting the screen a dreamy russet and enclosing the room in a wonderfully balmy embrace.

I could not remember the last time I’d felt such overwhelming joy. Perhaps it was the last time I’d been here, in this very room, when Hector and I were still friends and life was more dream and less responsibility.

I heaved a sigh. It felt as though I hadn’t taken a breath in four years. The smells of the Castle filled my lungs. Woodsmoke and roses and the magic of it all.

“Hello, old friend,” I whispered, grinning so wide my cheeks hurt.

By the armchair closest to me, a round table popped into existence. The silver tray atop it was overflowing with two pots, one of peppermint tea and one of hot chocolate, as the calligraphy on the little tags that looped around the curvy handles informed me. Right next to them glinted a crystal jar of star-shaped sugars and a tiny pitcher of steamed milk, which was accompanied by a basket of warm pastries and a mouthwatering array of breads and jams. Two different butter bells, one regular and one herbed, lay next to the empty cups and carafe of chilled water, while on top of the serving plate rested a cloth napkin folded around the stem of a single red rose.

“There,” said Hector in a monotone voice.

“So the problem wasn’t the Castle,” I accused, hooking my hands on my hips. “It was you.”

“Just sit down and eat your breakfast. I won’t have you fainting on me. And drink some water. I can smell the dehydration from here.”

“And what do hydrated people smell like?”

“Like a five-course meal.”

“You’re shameless.”

“And you’re about to pass out. Drink your water.”

Now that he mentioned it, I did feel a bit lightheaded, but to be fair, our accelerating ascent into the clouds held most of the blame.

As I took a seat on the plush armchair next to the beautifully set table, a woolen blanket and a book materialized upon the armrest. And just like that, life was worth living again. Everything was so comfortable and cozy I was practically purring with satisfaction, but when I noticed the title on the bright pink cover, I nearly jumped up again, squealing at the top of my lungs.

Hector startled. “What in the world—”

“This is it! It’s the new Lord Verlion book! I can’t believe the Castle has this already!”

“You’re shrieking like a banshee over a book?”

“This is not just any book. This is The Rogue Lord Verlion ,” I argued, my voice still having trouble reassuming its normal volume. “I heard this is going to be even more steamy than the previous ones, which is a serious feat considering Verlion has been going at it with the heroine since book two.”

“How lovely for her,” Hector muttered, raising his book to his nose.

“Fine,” I relented, helping myself to a blueberry muffin and a creamy cup of hot chocolate. “What is your book about?”

“The division of the holy brotherhood after the first starfall. You know, to this day, there are people who believe stardust is sacred and should not be used by mortals,” said Hector very seriously.

“How interesting,” I cooed.

“I’m almost done with it if you want to give it a go.”

“Do they kiss and make up in the end?”

He cast me a quick but perfectly sardonic glance. “The priests? No, they do not kiss, I’m afraid.”

“I refuse to read anything that doesn’t have a happy ending. Real life is miserable enough.”

Hector changed the page, murmuring wryly, “Well, they did send a siren after the anti-stardust leader. So before he was murdered, he did have at least one happy ending .”

“Ah, he makes jokes,” I teased.

And just as I was about to say that his brooding had undergone significant improvement ever since I came here, Hector made a frustrated sound deep in his throat. “What do you want from me, Dorothea?”

“Dorothea? Things are getting serious.”

Suddenly, the cushion beneath me turned solid and gave me a swift but firm smack that made me leap up to my feet. “Your Castle just slapped my bum!”

Hector, the bastard, didn’t even pretend to look surprised. “It will do it again if you don’t tell me why you came here.”

I glared at him, sailing far away from the apparently sentient chair. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

“If you don’t have anything to say, please leave me alone, Dorothea . Otherwise you give me no choice but to prove to you how much of a gentleman I am not.”

The words wise-ass wanker burned at the tip of my tongue, but we were supposed to be reasonable adults now, so instead of verbally prodding him, I set my blanket and book aside and went to hover over him. And I continued to hover until he broke. Very mature, I know.

“Will you stop staring at me?”

“Why?” I crooned. “Don’t you like it when I stare at you?”

Hector shifted in his seat. “It’s making me… itch.”

“Well, I have questions.”

“Questions.”

“About the ceremony.”

He lifted his eyes at the ceiling, searching for his lost patience, most likely. “You already know what happens at the ceremony.”

I did—partly.

I knew an unbreakable bond was forged between vampires when they consumed each other’s blood. So when Esperida had first assembled the conclave, she had drunk from a chalice of ceremonial wine containing the blood of every member of each family, thus ensuring their eternal loyalty to her.

What I didn’t know was what that meant for Hector. Did he have to drink their blood as well? Were they going to accept him despite the circumstances of his condition? Or would they try to steal what was rightfully his?

I bit into my lower lip, disquiet lapping over me like icy water. “Aren’t you… worried?”

Hector’s face hardened with immediate understanding. “We are a society of laws. A society of balance. If this balance gets disturbed, our relationship with the humans will collapse as well, and then we ’ ll be back where we started, being hunted and put down like wild beasts. By challenging me, they put at risk the very foundations of vampire prosperity.”

So they could challenge him.

Oh, that wasn’t good. That wasn’t good at all.

“How would they go about it?” I croaked. “Challenging you, I mean.”

Hector pursed his lips, considering it. “They wouldn’t attack me in my own abode. There’s no honor in that. Instead, they would… nominate a fighter, if you will. Someone strong enough to take on the challenge. But that’s highly unlikely.”

“Do you trust them that much?”

“I trust their need for peace and their intolerance of change,” he clarified. “I trust their fear.”

“Of you?”

His eyes snapped on mine, clear as ice-melted streams. “Of the Castle, Thea. Whoever has the Castle, has the most power, and whoever has the most power has the title. The Castle is bound to me by blood, and the families will have no choice but to respect that.” He paused, and although he seemed to be as composed as ever, I felt the rise of apprehension in his blood as though it were my own. “I ’ ll make them respect it.”

“And I’m supposed to pack my suitcase and leave you all alone with them just because of a stupid law?” I huffed.

“You realize that I’m a grown man, right?” he countered, and perhaps it was the way he said it in that deep voice of his or the way his body was sprawled on that couch, masculine and marvelous, but the only response that rose to my lips was, Believe me, I’ve noticed.

Thankfully, I was able to swallow down the words and focus on the matter at hand. Part of my mind was already weaving the threads of a plan. A dangerous, ridiculous, absurd plan. But these usually proved to be the best ones, anyway.

“I have an idea,” I prompted.

Hector sighed dramatically. “Spare me.”

“We can pretend we’re married.”

Even the tips of his ears turned bright red. “Excuse me?”

“Before you explode, let me elaborate. Spouses are allowed to be present at your ceremonies, even human spouses. Eron accompanied Esperida everywhere, didn’t he? And besides, this is about you, not the old bastards. You’re about to be appointed sovereign . This should be a celebration, not a somber ceremony. And you should celebrate with someone who loves you. Since Eron and Esperida can’t be here, I will. The main reason Queen Eloise kept me at the court for so long is because I happen to be an excellent diplomat. You, on the other hand, are as unsociable and disagreeable as an incarcerated bat. If I stay, I can make sure that everything goes smoothly with the bloodsucking pricks and that you have the wonderful night you deserve. I mean, when was the last time you had actual fun? The last time you laughed and danced and didn’t take yourself so seriously? And you know you can’t have fun without me. The entirety of our friendship was based on the fact that you have no idea how to enjoy yourself without my delightful company.”

Hector shut his book, pulled himself up, and looked at me more earnestly now that he understood I wasn’t joking. “First of all, stop comparing me to a bat. This is exactly the heinous slander that perpetuates interspecies prejudice. And at any rate,” he continued crossly, “ if I’d gotten married, don’t you think that as the son of the vampire sovereign I would have invited the three families to the ceremony?”

“That can be easily explained,” I chimed merrily. “My family didn’t want me to marry a vampire, so we eloped. After that we didn’t get the chance to tell anyone because of our loss. We were in mourning. But now, as you’re about to be appointed the new sovereign, it is both timely and appropriate to introduce your human companion to vampire society. And in a couple of months, you can simply tell them that we decided to separate. Interspecies marriages rarely work, anyway. Just look at the statistics.”

“Thea,” Hector said firmly. “We cannot fake a marriage.”

“And why not?” I persisted. “It will only be for a night, and we already know everything there is about each other. And that way, I get to safely remain here, and you don’t have to fight about it with the old bastards. Let’s face it, Hector, you have never been a very good fighter. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve seen you wield a blade.”

The faintest flicker of amusement flared in his eyes. “Well,” he drawled, “I have a sword now.”

“A sword?”

“A magic sword.”

I glowered at him. “Is that a euphemism? Are you going to tell me how you wrap your hand around the hilt and—”

“Dorothea.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you and your magic sword. ”

“Oh, for the love of the stars,” he hissed, leaping up from the couch with one hand in the air.

At once, a fierce whoosh ripped through the room as a giant sword carried itself past the doorsill and into Hector’s open fist. He grabbed it midair, brandishing the blade in one fluid movement before extending it toward me, silver flashing at the edge of my vision. The needle-thin point levitated a few inches from the bare skin of my throat, but before I could protest, Hector drew it back with another masterful twirl.

“Bloody Tartarus,” I gasped, touching my fingers to where the blade had almost nicked me. “You have a magic sword.”

The weapon itself was of remarkable craftsmanship, long and wide with an intricately carved hilt encrusted with a blood-red gemstone at the top. As Hector released it from his hold, the blade simply floated by itself next to him, waiting for the next command. A magic sword, indeed.

It was both frustrating and wretchedly embarrassing to realize that all I had managed to acquire these past four years were brand new levels of anxiety, an intractable book addiction with a subsequent fixation on unethical male leads, and a stack of letters from my mother in which she subtly but effectively criticized every single aspect of my life.

“I had no idea the Castle could make such weapons,” I admitted, genuinely impressed.

“The Castle is not some kind of treasury,” Hector bristled. “I earned this brawling with a minotaur.”

I gaped at him, uncertain if I should be more astounded by the fact that Hector had brawled with a minotaur or that he had brawled altogether. “You, Hector Aventine, fought a minotaur.”

He shrugged. “It has been a busy year.”

I shook my head incredulously. “And to think there was a time I could pin you down just by sitting on top of you.”

“I don’t think this would work now,” he said in a low, almost sultry tone. “But you’re always welcome to try.”

Was he flirting with me? Surely there was no way.

Hector Aventine did not flirt. In fact, he did not engage in anything that could bring any amount of joy to a warm-blooded person. But then again, the Hector I knew didn’t brawl with minotaurs either.

I squinted at him in an air of mock suspicion. “You really know how to use this thing?”

“Would you like to see me use it, Thea?” he offered, his fangs showing just a little. “You might have to come here and wrap your hand around its long, hard hilt, though.”

“Okay, that was a euphemism.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he brushed it away with a finger.

“Well, look at that,” I chimed. “He almost smiled.”

He rolled his eyes, reassuming the seat next to me while the sword whooshed itself out of the room. It was even polite enough to close the door behind it.

“Your plan,” Hector prodded.

“What about it?”

“It’s not going to work.”

“And why is that, Lord Aventine?”

“Don’t you think you’d have my scent and at least one bite mark on you if we were married?”

My breath hitched. “You’d feed on your own wife?”

“I’d bite my own wife because she would beg me to do so. Vampires don’t always bite to feed, you know. Sometimes they do it to pleasure their partners, and other times they do it to claim a human as their own.”

It was a cold, bitter feeling to realize how separate Hector and Esperida had kept me from their world and how blissfully I’d embraced my ignorance all these years. Perhaps they’d done it to protect me, to shield me from the darkness of their nature. Perhaps their clandestine universe stretched beyond the reach of human comprehension. Or perhaps they hadn’t believed me capable of overcoming my innate human prejudice against the unknown. Either way, I was sailing upon new waters now.

“I didn’t know that,” I whispered.

“Of course you didn’t,” was all Hector said. There was no resentment in his voice, but there was sadness in it—sadness for all the inherent differences that had rendered some parts of ourselves unknowable to each other.

“Is the bite…” I hesitated, embarrassment crawling over the skin of my face.

“Yes?” Hector encouraged.

“Is it really as euphoric as they say?”

The question didn’t surprise him. Still, his response held more nonchalance than it ought to. “So I’ve been told.”

It took me a moment to realize what this really meant. “You’ve fed on humans?”

It was impossible to imagine Hector drinking from the vein. In my mind, he had always been more human than creature, and yet, here he sat now with the unperturbed insouciance of an immortal, not a single human spark in his eyes.

“Why does this surprise you so, Thea? I am a vampire, after all, and there are more than a few willing humans out there.”

Deep in my chest, I felt the jab of something stronger than anger and more persistent than shock. I would have called it jealousy had it not been absurd to be jealous of any poor woman who’d find herself in the arms of a bloodthirsty vampire. Even if that vampire was Hector. Even if he pulled that faceless girl into his arms and caught her mouth with his before claiming her throat. Even if his hands roamed well past the curve of her waist and he alternated between drinking from her neck and stroking a gentle hand between her thighs. Or who knew? Perhaps he was skilled enough to do both at the same time.

Bells of mortification started ringing in my head. I had to dig my nails into the skin of my palms just to shake the untoward image off my mind. “I’m just… confused,” I croaked, which was a horrendous understatement of my current emotional state. “You said that you’d never drink from the vein. That the mere idea disgusts you.”

“Things change.”

“Evidently,” I clipped. “Or perhaps you took a lover. Your mystery woman.”

I meant it as a taunt, but the sudden shift in his expression told me I hadn’t fallen far from the truth.

Indeed, why was I so surprised? Hector was a grown man. Of course, he’d taken a lover. Probably someone older and experienced who taught him how to fight minotaurs and drink blood from the vein and flirt like it was a sport.

I should be happy for him, shouldn’t I?

Then what was with this sick feeling in my stomach?

Hector stood from the couch only to cast his unforgiving gaze upon me. “Did you think I spent the past four years pining for you, Thea? If I said that I was miserable and alone and that life without you was not worth living, would you be more pleased?”

“Of course not,” I scoffed, skittering to my feet. “I just…I’ve never thought of you in that way.”

“Like a man, you mean.”

“Like a vampire,” I bit out. “A vampire who feeds on his lovers.”

The space between us narrowed to a grain of sand, his face dangling so close over mine that if I got up on my toes, our lips would touch. “Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think.”

“Yes, so it seems.”

My chin tilted up just as his slanted down, and whatever we meant to say became the air we exchanged. For a few moments the only sounds in the room came from the crackling fireplace and the howling wind as it sped past the Castle. Everything else was stillness and ache and a thousand unsaid things.

The smallest flicker of surrender bobbed up in his eyes—hot, unsteady—then he pulled back with a sigh and aimed for the door. “Once we land, I’ll go into town and arrange a carriage for you. It will take you to the coast. From there you can board the first ship to Thaloria.”

A certainty rose in me. I gathered my skirts and chased after him. “No.”

He paused. “No?”

“I can’t leave.”

“Sure you can. You’ve left before.”

I wedged myself between him and the door and said the only thing that mattered anymore. “Hector. We lost them.”

That inexorable line between his brows deepened. Seconds passed. A minute. He didn’t say a word. He was a statue, cold and unwavering, his eyes like bits of stone. And perhaps his precious pride was contagious too, for I suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of him watching me cry.

I turned to leave, my chest hollowed.

But then, “Thea,” he said. It was like a spell. My entire body stopped as he cast it. “Don’t go.”

In the end, that was all it took for both of our prides to melt away. Two words. Don’t go.

He curled a hand around my nape and pulled me into his arms. I clenched my teeth, pressing my lips together to keep them from trembling. “I…” I had no words. I had nothing but this striking, overwhelming sense of grief. My insides felt burned to cinders.

Hector pulled me closer, his body enveloping mine. The scent of his skin flooded me like the sorrow. “It’s okay if you want to cry,” he said in my ear. “I did.”

I wasn’t sure why I needed to hear this, why I needed permission to experience the full magnitude of my grief, but for the first time in a very long time, I let myself weep. I was inconsolable, incoherent. There was pain in me I didn’t recognize, wounds so old I could not remember where they’d come from. It was as though this one terrible thing had magnified all the others, and now everything inside me was torn wide and bleeding.

Hector made a low, soothing sound deep in his throat, his fingers combing through my hair. “I know,” was all he murmured. “I know.”

In that moment he could have told me anything, and it would have soothed me all the same. I could not explain it. His arms felt more like home than any place, any house, any magic castle ever could. And somehow, as I wrapped my hands around his waist and pressed my face to his chest, my tears stopped tasting like despair.

When I was alone, my grief was a demon that I had to banish, to exorcise from my bones. But when we were together, it was a sacred thing, something we needed to honor, give it its own space, and live with it until it wasn’t so unbearable. Maybe the strength to move on lay in the surrender. Maybe it wasn’t time, the fading of memories that healed you in the end. Maybe it was the acceptance of the terrible thing that happened to you.

“I don’t want to leave,” I whispered, wallowing in the lovely familiarity of being held by a pair of hands that had held me before. “I came all this way because I need you right now. And I think you need me too.”

His fingers left my hair and cupped the sides of my throat, his thumbs at my jawbone. Something about his expression made me think that he was going to kiss me: the raw apology in his eyes, the softness of his brow, his lips that parted just so. But Hector only pulled himself straight, nodding for me to follow. “Come.”

I sniffled, still blinking tears from my vision. “Where are we going?”

“Well,” he breathed, casting me an almost mischievous glance over his shoulder, “if you’re going to pretend to be my wife, you better look the part.”