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DAHLIA

“ H ow…in all the gods’ fucking names…does running around the entire damned camp…help me protect myself?” I demand as I fight to breathe, my side feeling as if it’s being stabbed repeatedly by a very sharp stick. I lean over, hands on my knees, and curse when sweat drips into my eyes, stinging like the devil. Even with Alaric’s blood giving me increased strength and speed and everything else, I’m still all but dying with these “exercises” Nova and Wesley are putting me through. I’m not wholly convinced that they aren’t actually torture tactics or just plain practical jokes.

“We need to build up your strength and endurance before you can learn the rest,” Nova says matter-of-factly. “You’re not as bad off as I thought you might be though, being a noble from your high castle on a hill and all,” she mocks with a wink. I glare at her and Wesley laughs, the sound echoing oddly through the low fog all around us. Autumn has officially arrived at the camp, with crisp, cool mornings usually accompanied by heavy fog that gives the mountains and surrounding forests a sinister air. Other than these early morning runs, the Northlands are truly stunning and I find myself falling more in love with them each day.

But not before the sun rises every fucking day.

The morning after Alaric had agreed to my training, the two vampires who were formerly my closest friends, but have now turned traitors, woke me before dawn, making me scream in my bed like a banshee.

“Rise and shine, my Lady,” Wesley had said with a crooked grin as he lit the chemical lamps. I winced at the sudden flare of light, pulling my blanket over my head

“What in the fuck are you doing?” I’d yelled from below my toasty warm fortress.

The blanket was yanked away and thrown across the room, and I’d yelped before scowling. Nova only grinned.

“Training you, of course.”

“What?” It was entirely too early and my brain wasn’t functioning properly.

“We received word last night from the High General that we were to begin your training immediately. We have been officially reassigned to your training sessions every morning until…” Wesley frowned. “Well, until he says otherwise, I suppose.”

“Now—up, up, up. We need to beat the sun.” Nova had tossed a bundle of clothing at me, smacking me in the face. I held them up, trying to force my vision to focus after being so rudely and abruptly awoken—before the fucking sun was even up.

“What are these?”

“Training clothes,” Wesley said, giving me a pitying look. “You are not the brightest flower in the garden in the mornings, are you, my love?”

“Out. Now,” I’d demanded, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed to go clean my teeth, wash my face to try to help me wake up, and apparently put on training clothes—whatever those were, exactly. Nova and Wesley had laughed and headed for the door. “Wait,” I’d called. They’d turned at the door. “What if I had been sleeping naked?”

“Then we would have had a most excellent morning indeed,” Wesley had said, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe try that tomorrow?” Nova shoved him out the door at that and though I was intensely annoyed, I laughed.

Now, I struggle to breathe and glare at the two vampires.

“I hate you both.”

“You are many things, Dahlia Clayburn, but a liar is not one of them,” Wesley says, grinning. “Possibly the slowest human on the planet, yes. But a liar? No.”

“I’m not that slow,” I grumble. I am, in fact, extremely slow. “Fine. Maybe not hate, but I definitely dislike you right now.”

“Well, you’re going to really dislike us now—it’s time for abdominal work,” Nova says with a wicked gleam in her eyes that makes me think that this is the worst decision I’ve ever made.

After two grueling weeks of running around the camp, pulling myself onto things or over things or under things, lifting heavy objects, and doing Nova’s favored abdominal exercises, I’m starting to get the hang of things and am actually seeing improvements—probably mostly thanks to Alaric’s blood still running through my veins. Without it, I imagine it would take me much longer for my body to grow accustomed to these changes. Even so, the first week I was so exhausted, irritable, and sore in spots I didn’t even know existed, that I’d nearly fallen asleep while eating dinner every night. Takara thought it was all very funny, but liked the idea of me learning to defend myself, though she insists that I’ll never have the need.

“Over my dead fucking rotting corpse will you ever be in danger like that again,” were actually her exact words on the matter, but still, she approves of my training.

Alaric had to leave for an expected trip to one of the other camps, but had a squire bring me a note explaining his absence and telling me he would be back soon. It was…nice of him. I really want to know what changed on that trip to the wilds, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever get the chance to ask—or if he would actually tell me, truth be told.

I can’t sleep, so I decide to finally write to Enid. I haven’t in weeks, not since the attack. A package from her had arrived the day after, while I was still sleeping—with the swords for the guard. I had barely been able to speak around the lump in my throat, realizing that three of them would never meet their new owners. The swords belonging to Descartes, Isaiah, and Kane remain in my trunk. I know I should give them to someone else, to the replacements Alaric has yet to appoint I suppose, but I just can’t stomach the thought of it. They weren’t just my guards, they were my friends. I can’t just give their swords away to someone else. I feel like if I do that, I’m saying they didn’t matter, that they are interchangeable with anyone else, their gifts easily passed on to anyone else.

I know I can’t put off writing to Enid any longer—she’s probably already worried—but I just don’t know what to say. I don’t want her and da to be worried about me, but not telling them what happened feels like a lie, and we’ve never lied to each other. Skirted the truth on silly things like staying out past curfew or who broke the ugly-as-sin vase that used to sit on the mantle, sure, but never on anything important. I take a deep breath and put pen to parchment.

Enid,

I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. Things have been a bit…crazy here. Before I write these next words I need to you know that I am alright. Read that again. I am perfectly fine, I promise you. But…there was an attack on our way back from the village several weeks ago. A Revenant attack, if you can believe it. Alaric and his men are doing all they can to try to figure out how they got through the pass and why they attacked, but no answers yet that I know of. Three of my guards were killed and…

My hand shakes and I have to stop for a moment before I can continue.

I was injured. I know you’re having a fit, but remember what I said before: I. AM. FINE. Alaric saved my life in more ways than one, and now I have a very bonny scar that I think makes me seem very mysterious and maybe even a bit of a rugged-arse, as da would say.

But guess what’s happening now? You’ll never guess, so I’ll just tell you: I’m being trained, almost like a real soldier! You know I’ve always wanted to learn to wield the weapons I make and now I am—and I’m being taught by Wesley and Nova, so it’s perfect. Though, to be fair, I haven’t gotten to start learning actual weapons yet, but I’m to start tomorrow. Soon your sister will not only have the sharpest tongue in all of Astoria’s Keep, but the greatest hand with a blade. Ok, that’s probably a bit farfetched, but I’ll be able to look quite tough I imagine.

I miss you so much. Even after all these months, my room still feels too big and quiet without you at night. Have you had any luck deterring Leland in these weeks? Or, in the alternative, has he won you over? He’s not entirely horrible looking…

Also, to make up for my lack of letters and the worry I know you are feeling now, I’m sending you some gifts I got from the village that day. Don’t worry, I’ve cleaned the blood from them…Is it too soon to joke about this? Again – I really am fine now. It was scary, I won’t lie about that. Terrifying really, but I’m alright. Anyway, back to the gifts. I’ll give you a hint: they are very shiny and sparkly…I hope you love them.

Give da a hug for me.

I love you both so much.

~Dahlia

P.S.

I AM FINE. I just thought I’d remind you again.

I re-read the letter, hoping that I’ve said I’m fine enough to convince them both, though I know they’ll still be worried. I’m debating crumpling up the entire thing and starting over when I feel the tightness in my chest ease. Alaric . With all the blood he gave me, I’m back to feeling the strain when he’s gone like a fist around my heart—and the utter relief when he’s back. I breathe the first easy breath I have in two weeks and decide the letter is fine. I seal the envelope and rummage in the trunk to find the necklace and ring I want to send, trying to ignore the swords as I do. They’re like giant accusatory fingers pointing at me, blaming me. I know that no one else sees it that way, but I can’t help but feel responsible for the deaths.

When I’d plucked up the courage to finally see the others, the first words from my lips had been an apology, but Viktor had stopped me.

“My Lady, please. None of this was your fault, you must know that. This is the world we live in, the world we chose to be a part of because each of us answered a call in our blood to fight and to protect. We all knew what the outcome may be for us on any given day when we joined this army. You cannot blame yourself.”

The others had agreed and though I would forever feel guilt, it did make me feel a bit better. I’d sniffled and nodded, pushing my shoulders back and forcing the tears away.

“That’s our Lady of the Serpents,” Malcom said softly with a grin and I’d huffed out a laugh, surprising myself.

“I…I asked my father to make these for you all…before…before that day.” I swallowed hard, but forced myself on. “I wanted you all to have something special, something that—I hope—shows how much I appreciate and care about each of you.”

I’d presented the swords and Cyrus and Viktor let out low whistles of awe. Malcom was silent, but I would have sworn I saw him wipe a tear as he took up his blade, turning it this way and that so the sun glinted off of the dark gray metal, only a few shades lighter than Night’s Fury. The snarling wolf’s head was set in each of the cross guards, ruby eyes gleaming, an elegant CG beneath it in gold. Consort’s Guard . My protectors. My friends.

“These gifts are too much, Lady Dahlia,” Cyrus said, shaking his head. “We couldn’t possibly accept them.” He looked to the others, a mix of longing and uncertainty and confusion in his eyes.

“Oh don’t be daft,” I said, making them all laugh, “of course you can accept them. It’s my wish and I don’t know if you’re aware, but a Consort is supposed to get almost anything she wishes.” They’d grinned at that, excitement bubbling up within them like children once they accepted that these were truly their blades now.

Later that night, Takara told me how much the blades truly meant to them.

“Malcom told me that he’d grown up in the gutter, starving most of his life, hardly a night spent with a roof over his head. To have a Clayburn blade now, made specially for him on the request of a prince’s Consort, the High General’s at that…Well, it means more than you can imagine, Dahlia.” She eyed me in that way of hers that made me feel as if she were looking into my very soul and taking my measure. “You really are the kindest person I’ve ever met. It’s a pure sort of kindness that I don’t see often. Many people are kind, but in hopes of getting something in return for it. Your kindness is simply for the sake of being kind. It is…beautiful.”

I hadn’t known what to say to that, so I’d snatched her cup away and thrown it across the room, spilling the blood across the wall. She’d stared at me wide-eyed, mouth gaping.

“But I can still be a little shit.” We’d both laughed so hard we had tears streaming down our faces, Takara’s pink from the faint tinge of blood.

I clean up the desk a bit now and try to decide what to do. Despite feeling more relaxed than I have since Alaric left, I’m not ready to climb into bed. Now that the utter exhaustion from training has eased, I’m back to having nightmares and I put off sleep as long as possible most nights. So, I throw a robe over my nightgown and pad quietly from my room. I pause in the entry, staring down the hallway to Alaric’s wing, straining to hear him, but all is silent.

I quickly slip through the room and down the other hallway towards the study, silent as can be. I don’t know why, exactly. It isn’t as if I’m not allowed to be out of my wing or barred from the study, but I still slink through the cabin like a thief. I think part of me is nervous to see Alaric. I know I’ll see him tomorrow, but I need the night to prepare myself, to ease these nerves flaring through my body like fireworks in my veins.

I ease the door to the study open and quickly slide inside, keeping an eye down the hallway outside. Nothing at all. I ease the door closed, exhaling quietly as I lean my forehead against the cool wood.