Page 14

DAHLIA

I wake with my head heavy and throbbing, and mouth parched after a long night in the cups. I groan and stumble to my bathing chamber to splash water on my face and clean my teeth. Snippets from the night before flash behind my eyes: stories and laughter around the fire, Alaric walking me back to the cabin, having an almost normal conversation…running my hand up his chest as I leaned forward…

“Shite,” I whisper, putting my head in my hands beside my water basin. He hadn’t seemed angry, exactly, but he’d moved away in a hurry. I’m so embarrassed. He must think I’m so foolish, the stupid human thinking she could kiss a prince. But…he hadn’t looked repulsed by the idea in the moment…had he? I rub my temples. I can’t be sure. My memories are fuzzy to be honest. I hope he isn’t angry with me, though. I hope he just pretends it never happened and we can go back to being…whatever we are. I’m honestly not sure. He’d left almost as soon as we’d arrived after the Choosing, and had been gone almost a month, so I’m not really sure how our relationship is supposed to work with him back at the camp.

I wander to my dining room and find Takara perched in a chair, the table covered in plates and serving dishes and my mouth waters as my stomach gives an obscenely loud grumble.

“Hungry are we?”

“Starved,” I admit. Takara watches in almost fascination as I devour my breakfast of eggs, cheese, fruit, and bacon, taking more than enough for three grown men.

“So, how was your evening?” I ask over the rim of my glass of winterberry juice. Takara grins a fangy grin.

“It was lovely. As was this morning—three times.” She tucks her hair behind her ear, practically preening. I huff out a laugh, unable to stop myself. I wonder about a vampire’s stamina, but then flashes of Alaric immediately fill my mind. His lips so close to mine, the spicy, woodsy scent of him cocooning me like a warm blanket, the air thick and heavy around us with the promise of something dangerous and exhilarating. I shake myself and force my ridiculous thoughts into line. I’m sure I’m misremembering, just wishful thinking and ale-fueled fantasies getting jumbled in my head.

“And how was your night?” she asks.

“Not as…fulfilling as yours,” I say pointedly, making Takara snort, “but it was wonderful. I enjoyed being around the soldiers, drinking and laughing. It reminded me of being home, of spending nights in the square or in the pub.” I take another bite of my eggs. “Do you think all of those stories about Alaric are true?”

Takara looks thoughtful. “I know how men like to embellish things…but Alaric is the High General for a reason.” She shrugs.

I try to imagine all of the things I’d heard the night before, the battles and the brutality and the heroics. I can see it all clearly, can see Alaric riding headlong into danger all in the name of saving and protecting others. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be truly happy here, in this life that was forced upon me that will never be a full life, but I can admit that I’m coming to respect Alaric far more than I could have imagined, and that makes being here far more bearable. I may not find happiness, but I can find contentment, I think, and that might be enough.

“I thought today we might visit the village.”

“Village?” I perk up at that, despite my aching head.

The village isn’t large, but I wouldn’t care if it only consisted of a tavern and an inn and maybe a bakery. Living at the camp isn’t nearly as bad as I’d originally imagined it would be, but it still feels nice to be away from it all for a bit. Though there are other humans in the camp, squires and laundrywomen and the like, I’ve only caught glimpses of them here and there. Every time I try to approach, they scatter like birds, almost as if they’re afraid to be seen speaking to me. But being in the village, surrounded by people who are just doing normal things that don’t involve blood and fighting and preparing for war, feels like being home again, like the camp is just some strange dream.

Word quickly spreads of who and what I am, and I’m soon being waited on hand and foot at each shop. I know it’s just the way of things, but I wish no one knew. I wish I could have just spent the day being a normal girl, shopping and eating sweets, wandering the streets and enjoying the very human world around me.

I suppose even if Takara hadn’t made it known that I was the High General’s Consort, my vampiric guards would have given it away. It’s the full group of them since we’re outside the walls of the camp, and they’re impossible to miss. They’re completely different here than they are, all amusement and laughter gone from them. They’re all stoic and alert, as if just waiting for a threat from every shadowy alleyway, every rooftop, every wagon that rolls past.

“Am I in danger here?” I ask Takara quietly. I know that though the majority of the Revenant forces are beyond the Sisters, held back by Alaric’s army, there are still nests hidden within Braxhelm and attacks still happen from time to time. Plus, humans are just as capable of being monsters.

“You are perfectly safe,” Takara assures me. “Your guard are simply doing their jobs.”

I cast a glance over my shoulder. Descartes looks like he would tear someone in half without a second’s hesitation if they so much as breathed threateningly in my direction. A young boy’s eyes widen when the vampire’s eyes narrow at him, sending him scurrying away so quickly he almost falls twice. Malcom, Viktor, Isaiah, Cyrus, and Kane all look equally as lethal, equally as ready for a fight. I’d almost forgotten how terrifying they really are. I’ve grown so used to them and their jesting and easy smiles around the camp. To my relief, Viktor throws me a very quick wink before schooling his features into a hard mask again. I smile and turn to continue on with Takara beside me, pointing out the different shops down the main thoroughfare of the town. I spy the infamous blood house that most soldiers from the camp come here to visit and my mind whirls with curiosity. I don’t go in, of course, but…maybe one day…

After a long day and many, many purchases—pastries and writing supplies, a few new garments, gifts for my father and sister, and even a broach in the shape of a wolf that I thought perhaps Alaric might like, though as soon as we left the shop I chided myself for being so ridiculous and decided to give it to Wesley or Nova instead—we finally arrive back at the camp. To my utter surprise, I’m happy to be back. It still doesn’t feel like home, exactly, but it’s becoming a close approximation. I feel safe here and I like the familiarity of it even after only a few weeks.

I eat a quick dinner and let the night before play through my mind over and over again. I’d been exceptionally drunk, sure, but did I really imagine the moments with Alaric? He’d been more relaxed with me, for sure, but it was more than that. I swear he’d looked at me like…well, like maybe he wanted me the way I wanted him. Had he been able to tell what I was thinking? To know exactly how badly I’d wanted to move those few precious inches when he was taking my blood, our bodies so achingly close, but not touching the way I desperately needed? Had he known that I wanted him to lift my wrist to his lips, to feel his tongue and teeth against my skin?

Even now just thinking about it, my pulse begins to speed, my chest rising and falling quickly as my imagination begins to spin out of control. What would it feel like to have Alaric’s fangs pierce my skin? For him to do…other things while he drank? I shiver and then put my head in my hands, groaning.

“What in the seven hells is wrong with me?” I sigh and head to my room, deciding to write to Enid to distract myself.

Enid,

I got to visit the nearby village today. Well, nearby is a bit of an overstatement—it took us hours to get there, but it was so nice to be around people again. I felt almost normal (and don’t even say that I’ve never been normal). I got you and da a few gifts that I’ll send along with this letter. I hope you like the journal. The snow lilies engraved on the front reminded me of the dress you used to wear every day when you were six or seven. Do you remember? Mum could scarcely get you out of it long enough to wash it.

I smile at the memory, the bittersweetness of it making my chest ache. I honestly don’t even know if it’s a real memory or if I just heard the stories so many times, mum and da telling them beside the fireplace and smiling fondly down at Enid and me, that it’s branded into my mind.

Last night there was a small revel with some of the soldiers. I went with Wesley and Nova, of course, but you’ll never guess who showed up—the High General himself. I couldn’t believe it, but Wesley said he often spends time with the men, celebrating and sharing a laugh over drinks. Well, he doesn’t really laugh very much, but you get my meaning. Who would have thought? The stories they told of him were crazy. If even half of them are true…well, it’s no wonder he’s the High General and the greatest warlord Braxhelm has ever known.

I chew on my lip, the need to talk to my sister about my ridiculous growing…what? Infatuation? Desire? Feelings ? for Alaric nearly overwhelming.

I think there’s something wrong with me, Enid. I’m having…thoughts about Alaric. Thoughts that no Consort should be having for her prince. I thought it was just because of the binding during the Choosing, but I don’t think that’s all it is. I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t stop myself, can’t stop my imagination from running wild whenever I think of him, can’t stop this…wanting. I almost kissed him when I was drunk last night (speaking of which, I’m having a cask of the ale sent with this letter as well—it’s absolutely delicious, but dangerous when it comes to decision-making it seems. Use it wisely). What do I do? This has to stop, but I don’t know how. I wish you were here.

I scrub tears from my eyes.

I’ll write again soon. Give da my love and give him the sketches enclosed so he can make a pair of swords for Wesley and Nova.

~Dahlia

I seal the letter and lay it on the table with the gifts and sketches so I can give them to the squire tomorrow morning. I crawl into bed and try to sleep, but it’s no use. My mind is too busy, my thoughts too tumultuous, my body too on edge. Maybe I should go to Wesley’s cabin and slack these desires, take the edge off of these needs that are driving me mad. Maybe that’s the whole problem. I just need someone , not necessarily Alaric. The bond just has my thoughts confused. Even without the spark between us, Wesley and I can surely find our way to pleasure together.

But even after convincing myself that this is the perfect plan, I don’t move to dress or leave the cabin. I remain in my bed, staring at the ceiling but seeing dark curls tumbling over golden eyes. I close my eyes, but the image remains. I sigh and give in to the inevitable, skating my fingers over my breasts and down my stomach, my skin so sensitive that goosebumps erupt over every inch. Eventually, my hand slips beneath the blanket. I let the picture of Alaric in my mind change and move as my fingers delve, making my hips arch and a gasp escape my lips. I cast my mind back to last night, when he’d been standing so close to me.

In my mind, he doesn’t pull away when I lean forward. Instead, he cradles my face as I press my lips to his, as I grab the front of his shirt and tug him forward. In my mind, he shifts so that his hips are wedged between my thighs, and I swear I can feel him against me now, hard as steel. In my mind, he whispers my name. I move my hand faster as the vision in my mind grows frantic. I imagine him running a hand down my side before gripping my hip and wrenching me hard against him; his lips hard and urgent on mine, demanding his due, dominating my mouth; him kissing across my jaw and down my neck; him flicking his tongue across the soft skin of my neck before sinking his fangs deep into my flesh?—

I cry out as I come in a rush on my own fingers, my hips bucking and writhing. My climax rips through me like wildfire, setting every nerve aflame and leaving me in ashes on the bed. It feels like hours before I come down from it, my breaths finally slowing and my heart quieting inside my chest.

“ Seven hells ,” I croak into the darkness before turning to bury my face in my pillow.