Page 10

DAHLIA

A laric remained gone for another two weeks. One of his soldiers came to collect my blood twice to take back to him on the battlefield. Though I’ve grown used to it after the long days, the strain of him being gone is still there, like an ever-present thrumming in the back of my mind.

“Is it normal for them to be gone so long? For battles to take weeks?” I ask as we walk towards one of the sparring rings. I’ve found it quite entertaining to watch the men practice their hand-to-hand combat…especially when they happen to do so shirtless. Takara has been very supportive of my new hobby, much more than my time in the shop with Braddock.

Things have been much better since that first day that she helped me start my climb out of the dark. I still miss my home and my family, as I always will, but it’s getting easier every day.

“Yes, my Lady.” I roll my eyes. I’ve repeatedly asked her not to call me that, but she continues. I’ll wear her down eventually. After all, I’ve got nothing but time. “Do not worry. Battles ebb and flow. It often isn’t one fight that starts and ends cleanly. There are retreats and advances, one or both sides regrouping and resting.”

I’d never thought about it that way. Admittedly, I always envisioned battles almost like boxing matches: beginning when someone said “go” and stopping when a winner was announced or both sides decided to call it a draw. Now I feel silly. Of course it wasn’t that simple or easy.

I nod and we stop outside the largest of the sparring rings. A low stone wall surrounds the area and the ground within is a mix of sand and sawdust—better to absorb the blood, I’ve learned. With their enhanced healing, vampires don’t take it easy on one another inside the ring. It’s mostly good-natured, but they all fight to win, and the ground is usually painted crimson by the time any match is over.

In one corner, one of the more senior warriors is giving instruction to some soldiers who’ve only just graduated from the training academy on Sol Island from the looks of it, slowing his motions and demonstrating moves so they can understand the mechanics before practicing themselves. In another corner, two vampires practice swordplay.

I make my way closer to the wall, leaning my elbows against the cool stone. A tall, leanly-muscled vampire with a dragon tattooed across his back is facing off against another male, shorter but brawnier, his fangs glinting in the sun as he smirks. They’re both slicked with sweat, slashes and blood marring their bare torsos. There’s something familiar about the taller vampire, but I have no idea why. I can’t see his face, just the mop of brownish-blondish hair, but even so, something tugs at the back of my mind.

The bigger vampire lurches forward, but the other one is too quick, sidestepping and landing a punishing blow to the other man’s jaw. He staggers back, spitting blood and narrowing his eyes.

“You’ve gotten better, Ravenswood,” he says in a booming, amused voice.

Ravenswood? My lips part on a soft gasp.

“ Wesley? ”

The taller vampire whirls around, his eyes going wide in surprise. A smile breaks across his face just before the other vampire slams into him. The two of them go down hard and skid several feet, dirt and sawdust fanning across the air. I yelp and slap a hand over my mouth. The bigger vampire leaps on top of Wesley and grips his throat.

“Distractions can cost you your life, Ravenswood.” He glances up at me and his lips quirk. “Especially pretty distractions.” He stands and offers Wesley his hand. Wesley takes it and the other vampire yanks him upward. “Five-minute break,” he says, inclining his head to me and walking off to speak with another set of fighters.

I can do nothing but stare for a long moment. I haven’t seen him in years, not since we were teenagers and they moved away. He rushes over, grinning a fangy grin, and the sight is jarring. Even so, I throw my arms around him and he squeezes me tightly. He’s bigger now, a man, not the boy I’d known. The boy I’d been friends with, running barefoot through town and climbing trees and stealing apples, the boy who had stood up for me when the other boys had teased me and pulled my hair, the boy who’d stolen my first kiss in the loft above his father’s apothecary shop. The first boy I’d ever…My cheeks heat at the memory of the two of us, all sprawling limbs and giggling awkwardness and reckless abandon on the edge of the lake all those years ago.

I pull back and smack his chest, making a face at the sweat and blood that now coats my fingers. We both laugh and it feels like I’m back home again, back in my old life where we never moved to the noble district and Wesley never left and I never became a Consort.

“My gods, I can’t believe it! I’d heard from Widow Jones that you’d enlisted to be turned, but I didn’t know…” I shake my head, smiling bigger than I have in weeks. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he counters. “I’d heard that there was a Consort here now, but I never would have thought…how in the seven hells did this happen?”

“That’s a very long story,” I sigh, toying with the end of my braid. The older vampire whistles to get Wesley’s attention.

“Fuck,” he says, “I’ve got to get back to training. Meet me tonight? My cabin is in Third Quadrant, on the south-east side of the camp, second row closest to the tree line.”

“I’ll find you,” I say, smiling. I can’t seem to stop. He grins back, slapping the top of the stone wall before walking backwards. His stomach is flat and taut, the tail of the dragon from his back curling around his ribs. My blood heats at the sight and I shake myself, waving before Wesley turns and trots towards his opponent.

“And who, pray tell, was that?” Takara whispers low in my ear.

“That was Wesley,” I say as the two of us stride away from the fighting ring. Wesley keeps stealing glances my way and I don’t want him to get in trouble because of me. “We grew up together. Gods, I haven’t seen him in years. I can’t believe he’s here, that he’s turned.” I shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around it all.

“He is…delicious,” Takara practically purrs. “Are you going to fuck him?”

I sputter, stutter-stepping and almost slipping in the mud. Takara quickly rights me and I hear a low chuckle from behind us. I cut my eyes back and see Cyrus obviously attempting to contain his smile.

“What? No!” I say turning back to Takara, cheeks flushed. “I mean…I don’t know.” I close my eyes, trying to get a handle on my thoughts. “Why would you ask that?” I’m flustered and I’m not even sure why. It’s not as if I’m particularly shy or reserved, but I also don’t typically go around talking about who I plan to fuck in casual conversation. Takara shrugs a slim shoulder.

“Simply curious.” We walk a bit more and she curls the end of her shining black hair around her finger, the color beautiful against her bronze skin. “You could, you know. Fuck him, I mean,” she adds matter-of-factly, like she’s making sure I know I’m allowed to drink water if I wished. “Remember, as a Consort, you are allowed to have any male or female that you like. Many of them. At the same time, if you prefer.”

“Yes, I know, but that’s not…” I puff out my cheeks and blow out a long breath. “He’s a friend ,” I say, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. Takara purses her lips.

I think the topic has been dropped, but then she says, “If you aren’t going to, would you mind very much if I fucked him?”

I stop walking and pinch the bridge of my nose as Cyrus laughs again from behind us, not even trying to hide it this time.

“Can we please stop talking about who is or is not going to fuck Wesley? I beg of you.”

“As you wish, my Lady,” Takara says, and I can see that she, too, is smiling. My discomfort is apparently very, very amusing. I scowl, but then, despite everything, I grin too, shaking my head at both of them and feeling lighter than I have in weeks.

Dear Enid,

Things are better. I miss you still, of course, but I’m settling in here. I’ve explored the camp now. Truth be told, the last time I wrote, I had barely left my wing of the cabin. I was wallowing, I’ll admit it. But, I’m doing much better now. The camp is even bigger than I’d originally thought—it took me hours to walk the entire thing, and I’m still not entirely sure I’ve seen all there is to see. The men are a surprise as well. Men and women, of course. I don’t know why everyone refers to the entire group as “men” but no one is asking my opinions on that matter. Back to my point: the soldiers (men and women) are not at all what I was expecting either. I’d envisioned hardened, blood-thirsty warriors, and though there are some of those (who I tend to steer clear of), the majority of them are kind and funny and remind me of our friends from the old side of town.

Speaking of—you’ll never believe who I found here. Wesley Ravenswood! He’s been turned, of course, but he’s still the same old Wesley. Except bigger. And more muscular. And with a very enticing tattoo across his back and rib cage…I digress.

Finding him has helped ease the ache of missing home some, I think. Like having a part of my old life back with me here is grounding me in a way, helping me stay myself in the midst of all this change where mostly I feel like I’m lost, like I’m floating aimlessly at sea with no land in sight, nothing to buoy me or anchor me.

The High General has been gone for weeks now. The bond between us feels stretched, like a wire pulled too tightly, the thick anticipation of it snapping a constant thrum in my veins. I…well, I don’t miss him, exactly, but the binding makes me feel as if I do, as if I’m missing a part of myself. It’s hard to explain. I’m told it will fade soon and I’ll be glad for it when it does. He sends someone to fetch my blood for him while he’s away, so don’t worry, I’m still doing my duty.

I’m going to meet Wesley tonight and catch up. I’ll write again soon, but I just wanted you know that I’m doing ok. I’m doing much better, I promise.

I love you so much. Give da a hug for me.

~Dahlia