Page 7

Thea

E very step Hector took was a transformation. Chandeliers flew up, broken crystals rearranged themselves into new, more brilliant patterns, hearths lit up and roared in excitement, flowers unfurled and blossomed, and curtains drew back to let the light in. It wasn’t the extravagant wonderland from my childhood memories where even the air was a thing of magic, but it was certainly a start.

The day outside had progressed to afternoon, and the sky was a sweep of yellow with a smattering of periwinkle clouds. In the distance, the colors faded into a dreamy, milky white as if we were heading toward the heart of a pearl.

I followed Hector down the corridor and up the winding stairs, wishing we could sit down and talk instead. I wanted to know everything. Everything he was feeling. Everything he was thinking. Everything he had done during the time we’d spent apart. He was right in front of me, yet I felt like I was observing him from a great distance. There were no walls between us I could break down, only vast, unexplored space. But even conquering the unknown didn’t seem impossible within these walls.

As we passed by the observatory, I was delighted to find that my favorite part of the Castle remained intact. The fountain of the universe’s wishes. Or at least, that was what I called it. It was made from the same peculiar stone as the facade of the Castle, pure white and ever-glistening. Its waters were the color of fresh moss, trickling from a tipped amphora into the round pool. The bottom was a mosaic of gold and green, littered with bronze star-shaped coins. Every time a star fell, a new coin appeared in the pool, and every few years some of the coins vanished, dissolving into stardust.

This is part of the original structure of the Castle , Esperida told me once. I believe that my star was very special before it fell—a king of the sky—and that these are the wishes the gods bestowed and still bestow upon it. That’s why the Castle can’t touch land. Where else would wishes belong but the sky?

How solacing it was to think that even the gods and spirits and nymphs had things to wish for and that we were not alone in our ceaseless dreaming. That was why I loved the Castle so much. Within its walls I was allowed to be incomparably marvelous and, at the same time, perfectly human.

Filled with nostalgia, I passed my fingers under the amphora and felt its divine water glide over my hand like liquid silk. Suddenly, two iridescent butterflies leapt from the amphora’s lip, fluttering their delicate wings around my hand. “Hector, look!” I exclaimed, but he was already gone, his tall silhouette a mere shadow in the distance.

I gathered my skirts and hurried after him to the funniest part of the Castle: a single stretch of corridor where the floor was the ceiling and the ceiling was the floor. Spots of upside-down gravity weren’t uncommon in the Faraway North, although we hardly ever had to battle such spaces in our own abodes.

“You should go ahead first,” I suggested, dreading that initial heart-dropping swoop.

Hector obliged, knowing well how terrible I was at sailing from one line of gravity to the other. Unlike us, vampires were so good at adapting to alternate gravity that it had prompted some humans to believe that they were able to sleep upside down, which is where the whole bat comparison started.

Of course, Hector could not find his rest standing and certainly not standing upside down, but he did finish walking the trail of black and white squares with a perfect flip of his body, landing gracefully upon the original path.

Having no other choice, I followed, and when I reached the final set of squares right before the gravitational pull changed, I shut my eyes, sucked in a heartening breath, and forced myself to step forward into my inevitable fall.

The feeling was absolutely wretched, not to mention stomach-turning, but Hector caught me as easily as ever, murmuring in that soothing, soft-spoken way of his, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

I cracked one eye open and found us standing on the other side of the corridor, limbs entangled. His hands were firm on the curve of my hipbones, and his face hovered so close to mine I could see nothing but the ribbon of redness that had crept over the bridge of his nose.

Gods knew I loved watching him blush.

I smiled dreamily. “Some things never change, do they?”

Hector untangled himself from me, straightened the collar of his shirt, and continued down the corridor without so much as a word.

After a few more strides, the hall opened up into a familiar foyer, where two new rooms seemed to have materialized in my absence. One had a plain wooden door, brown and gnarled, while the other was a charming gilded arch adorned with rose carvings.

Hector closed his hand around the rosebud-shaped doorknob, and with the faintest hint of excitement in his voice, announced, “I think you’re going to like this.”

As the door creaked open, he stepped aside so I could enter first into what could only be described as a treasure trove.

It was a small, cozy space with a low, round ceiling threaded with ivy. The carpeted floor was cluttered with colorful bolts of fabrics, chests glimmering with rare gemstones and fine jewelry, and trunks overspilling with clothes and undergarments, wisps of lace and silk springing out of velvet casings. Along the walls, bronze racks were tilting from the weight of gowns so exquisite I believed them fairy-made, while the pink chaise in the center of the room lay strewn with elaborate hairpieces and strings of glowing pearls.

“Are the clothes to your liking?” Hector asked with an attentive expression on his face.

“Are you joking? I feel like I’ve stepped into a dream. But…” I hesitated, trapping the corner of my bottom lip between my teeth. “I can’t wear Esperida’s things. It doesn’t feel right.”

Hector rubbed the nape of his neck, the billowy sleeve of his shirt flying back to reveal the sculpted lines of his forearm. “These were not my mother’s,” he said. “Do you remember the small orchard my father had in Lumia?”

I nodded eagerly, intrigued to see where he was going with this.

“Well,” he exhaled, “I got into business with a few of the local farmers, and we ended up expanding it along the borders between Lumia and Sandrea City, and to tell you the truth, we’re making a fortune exporting our goods. Lumia has some of the best soil in the Realm. We may not have the North’s magic or the South’s technology, but that doesn’t mean the kingdom has to stay poor. We just have to utilize the resources that we have.”

I stared at him, feeling amazed and delighted and wistful all at once. I’d missed it. He’d made himself into this incredible man, and I’d just… missed it.

“Hector,” I said, a bittersweet smile hanging across my face. “I’m so proud of you.”

Hector shook his head. “There’s nothing to be proud of. It’s like you said. I had certain opportunities set out for me.”

“But you made the best of them,” I argued.

“At any rate,” he diverted, locking his wrists behind his back. “I traveled a lot these past few years, and since I had my own money for the first time in my life, I kind of cultivated the habit of collecting things.”

I bent over the overflowing chest at my feet and fished an ivory corset out of the heap. “Have you also cultivated the habit of wearing corsets? Because I don’t think this is the appropriate size for your bust.”

Hector leaned against the ornate dresser, his featherlight attention wandering to the curve of my breasts. From the color that had crawled up the sides of his neck, you’d think he was imagining me wearing this corset and nothing else. But perhaps I only flattered myself.

“You know, that’s real gold,” he drawled, pointing a finger at the stitching along the neckline.

I pulled the undergarment off me, tutting as I continued my rummaging through the chest. “Your wealth disgusts me,” I claimed, but when I got my hands on the prettiest little comb, decorated with red roses along its arch, I found myself exclaiming, “Oh, can I have this?”

“You can have everything.”

“Have you gone mad?”

“I’m serious. These don’t mean anything to me anymore.”

Letting the little comb slip back into the chest, I approached him warily. “Did you buy these things for your mystery woman?”

Hector didn’t say anything, only looked away.

“What happened?” I persisted.

His jaw clenched. “You don’t want to know, Dorothea.”

If I could describe Hector in one phrase, I would say, soul-crushing devotion . He was like Esperida in that way. To be the object of his devotion was to be a part of a brighter, kinder reality, and to be severed from it was the cruelest punishment.

That was how I felt standing there in the unbearable silence. Punished. And it was unfair. It was unfair because I’d lost my best friend too. I’d been left behind too. Yes, I had put my future over our friendship, but he had put his pride over it, and how was that any better? He could have told me how he really felt, or if that had been too hard, he could have written to me later. He could have reached out. I’d spent four years thinking he hated me when in reality he’d just… forgotten me.

Not having the strength for this conversation right now, I floundered helplessly in the tension until my gaze fell upon something that could break it.

I swiped the crimson mask from the array atop the couch and held it up to my face. “Okay, what does this remind you of?”

Immediate realization braced Hector’s face. “Oh gods. That ridiculous masquerade ball Mother threw for my sixteenth.”

“Now that was a party,” I crooned, passing my fingers over the delicate lacework of the mask.

“It was not a party,” grumbled Hector. “It was a fever dream.”

“Do you remember that Arawn got so drunk he fell into the fountain? The Castle almost kicked him out.”

Hector snorted. “He still has nightmares about that night.”

Arawn’s golden face focused in the center of my memories. His delicate features. His pale blue eyes. The messy heap of his blonde hair. “Have you kept in touch with him?”

“I saw him about a year ago in Thaloria. And we write to each other regularly.”

I pressed my lips together, resentment churning in my stomach. “You visited Thaloria.” But not me , I wanted to say, but couldn’t find the will. You didn’t even write to me. You didn’t even bother to learn if I got married.

“I was visiting the Celestines,” Hector clarified. “Calix and Esther wished to appoint Arawn the new Lord of the North.”

“Why? Did something happen to them?”

“Well, Esther is past five hundred. So she thought it was time her son took on the responsibility.”

“But Arawn is so young.”

Hector arched a brow. “He’s a year older than us.”

Most of the families’ children were around our age, for Esperida’s union with Eron had signified the first period of interspecies peace and therefore the first time in history where vampires felt secure enough to settle down and create families of their own.

Still, I had a hard time wrapping my head around it. When had we all grown up so much?

I clutched the mask to my chest, holding the memory of that masquerade ball in my mind for as long as I could until the scene, as all things lost in time, fluttered away, and I was shoved back into the bleak, uncertain now. “I wish Esperida and Eron were here. This place is not the same without them,” I whispered, fresh tears stinging in my eyes. I dropped my lashes quickly so he wouldn’t see. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“It comes in waves,” he said. “Grief, I mean. A scent. A melody. Words strung together in a certain way. It lurks and strikes when you least expect it. Eating at you. Draining you. Like a vampire.”

My heart twisted painfully in my chest.

Was that how Hector saw himself? As the creature equivalent to grief?

I’d always thought that he despised vampire society because of the responsibility that came with his place in it. I never would have imagined that he also despised the part of himself that, in my eyes, was what made him so magical.

Before I could assemble something meaningful enough to say, Hector veered to face the dresser. He pulled something out of the first drawer and, wordlessly, came to drop it on my palm.

A simple gold wristlet.

A ceremonial wristlet.

Hector squeezed his hand into its larger twin before helping me with my own. “And… we’re married now. Congratulations, Lady Aventine,” he announced dryly.

Running my fingers over the cold, sleek metal, I recalled his words from earlier, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gotten these for us on an adolescent impulse. With a raw ache in my throat, I lifted my head and looked into his sunburst eyes. “You know I didn’t know, right?”

Understanding hardened his face. “Come on, Thea,” he said with a short, bitter laugh. “You knew. You were constantly mocking me about it.”

“I never mocked you,” I protested. “Sometimes I teased you, yes, but that was the only way I could get some sort of reaction out of you.”

“I told you I was willing to leave the Castle. I told you I would move to Thaloria so you could study magic. I told you I would follow you to the ends of the world. But you never believed me. You never took me seriously,” he said with the air of someone who wasn’t bothered much by it anymore.

“It’s not that I didn’t believe you. It was just a sacrifice I couldn’t ask of you. Not when I knew that one day I would have to betray myself to honor my family. You ought to understand this, Hector. You’re doing the same thing now, aren’t you?”

He kept his head high, his proud shoulders straight. “I suppose we’re all products of our families wishes.” With one long stride he reached the door, dismissing the conversation. “I have to make sure the guest rooms are ready for tomorrow. I’ll move your things to my bedroom as well.”

I blinked, bewildered, before it dawned on me that we were supposed to be married now. Married people did not sleep in separate bedrooms. Not newlyweds, at least.

Considering how nervous I felt at the mere thought of sharing a room with Hector, maybe this plan of mine was ridiculous, if not downright childish. I should probably move into an inn for a couple of days and return to the Castle after the ceremony. Yes, that would be the most reasonable thing to do.

So why was I staring at him like a flustered idiot instead of suggesting it?

“Alright,” was the only thing that came out of my mouth.

Did I like the idea of pretending to be Hector’s wife, or was it the allure of joining one of the most exclusive societies in the Realm that made me want to stay here so much? Of course, a momentary lapse of sanity wasn’t completely out of the question. I should probably write to Nepheli and advise her to get herself a new best friend, for this one had gone completely and irrevocably bonkers.

“How flattering that you’re wincing at the thought of sharing a room with me,” muttered Hector.

“I’m not—”

“Don’t worry, Dorothea,” he cut me off, pronouncing my name like it was some kind of a curse. “We’ll only have to make it look like we’re sharing a bed.”

“What’s going to happen to us if we get caught?”

“We won’t get caught,” he said doubtlessly.

I narrowed my eyes. “How can you be so sure?”

He leaned against the door, hands in his pockets. Something dark and thrillingly dangerous gleamed in his eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, Hector Aventine smiled, and it was a cutting, deadly thing. “Because I’m good at pretending, and you love playing games. Let’s have some fun, Lady Aventine.”