Page 8

DAHLIA

I don’t do much of anything the first week after arriving at the camp. I spend the first few days grieving the loss of my family and the life I knew, and, admittedly, wallowing. I slept for a full day and a half, exhaustion from everything that had happened slamming into me almost the instant Alaric had left me in my chambers that first day, only waking to eat some of the food that had been left by Takara I assume, and to use the privy (which I’d been very excited to have—I had been fairly certain before arriving that I was going to be expected to piss in a hole in the ground).

The next day, I explored my wing, still surprised that I had it at all. I never would have thought Alaric would share his cabin. Everything was luxurious and expensive, I could tell—plush sofas and chairs, thick fur rugs, gold and crystal sconces and chandeliers, gem-inlaid cups and plates. It was all a bit much, though I suppose it had been constructed and furnished with a typical Consort in mind, and I’m anything but typical when it comes to these things. I appreciate luxuries and beautiful things, but they aren’t things I’m used to or need to have to be happy or comfortable.

Alaric did say that I could change whatever I liked…maybe I’ll redecorate at some point. That would kill some time and apparently that’s all I have now. Time. Endless time to do…I have no idea what. Everything. Nothing. I have no purpose here other than giving blood, and when I’m not doing that, I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do to fill my days.

Takara came the third day to make sure I didn’t need anything and to see how I was settling in. I feigned more exhaustion because I just honestly didn’t feel like having company. So, she left and I laid in the extremely comfortable bed, dozing and crying.

I know it’s only been a handful of days, but I already miss my family so badly my chest feels as if it’s been cracked in two. I pull myself from my bed and find parchment and pens in the desk in the corner of my room. It’s a beautiful piece, with elegant knots carved into the legs and across the fronts of the drawers, and painted the deep green color of the forest surrounding the camp in the distance.

Dear Enid,

I feel silly writing to you already when I’ve only just left, but I knew that you were probably falling apart without me, and my words would be needed.

And perhaps I miss you and da a bit as well.

The journey was long, but not too terrible. The High General’s carriage is exceedingly comfortable, of course. Seeing the landscape change from city streets to rolling hills and farmland, to forests as far as you can see, snow-capped mountains in the distance, was truly extraordinary. I wish you could have seen it. The camp is…

I frown, not really knowing what the camp is like. I’d seen it when we rode in that first day, of course, but other than that, I’ve been hiding here in the cabin, sulking in my rooms since arriving.

The camp is massive, but not nearly as primitive as we feared. You’ll be happy to know that I am not sleeping on the ground or in a tent. In fact, everyone here has their own cabin. Well, actually that isn’t entirely true – not everyone has their own cabin. I share the largest cabin in the camp with Alaric. I have my own wing, of course, so we’re as separate as we can be, but even so, being here in the same house, under the same roof…I’m not sure how to feel, Enid. His presence is so large and all-encompassing, I can feel it from across the expanse of the house.

And we’re connected in ways I can’t even describe for the time being because of the ceremony. I’m told it will fade, but it’s a little overwhelming. I can feel myself longing to be near him, my very blood seeming to call out to his. It’s…confusing. And inconvenient. And fucking unwanted. I don’t want to be near him. I want to be home with you.

Tears well, both of sorrow and anger, and I scrub them away quickly.

I’ll write again soon. Give da my love and make sure he’s not eating too many tarts—make sure he knows that he fools no one when he thinks he’s sneaking them away from the kitchen with no one the wiser.

I love you so much.

-Dahlia

I find an envelope, wax, and a seal bearing the Coven’s sigil with an elegant C scrawled beneath the snarling wolf’s head. I run my fingertips over it.

“C. For Consort. Because I’m the Wolf Coven leader’s fucking Consort .”

I drop the seal to the desk with a heavy thud and put my head in my hands. I have to take a few deep breaths as that truly sinks in, that this is truly my life now. It is no nightmare, no hallucination. There is no escaping it. I am Alaric’s Consort and will be until the day I die.

Something inside my chest feels heavy, as if my very soul is being pulled under the waves by a weighty anchor. I heat the wax and seal the letter before setting out to find out how in the bloody hells I’m supposed to send correspondence from a fucking war camp, but even as I stride from the room to find Takara, I can feel myself on the verge of slipping into a darkness that I don’t know if I’ll be able to climb out of.

On the fifth day, I knock on the door to the war room. I’d honestly been a bit surprised that Alaric wanted me to come to him so he could take my blood himself rather than just sending one of his squires or servants or whatever they’re called here to do it for him. Surprised, but admittedly excited. How pathetic.

“Enter,” Alaric’s voice comes from within, though he sounds distracted. I push the large doors open and step inside the room. It’s nearly the size of my entire wing, with a giant round table in the middle, maps laid out on top with what look like game pieces placed all around it. It takes me a moment to realize that the pieces are meant to represent the vampiric army and the Revenant one. Each of the five permanent war camps within Braxhelm is marked with a castle-like statue, and I wonder what the others might look like. Do they all have cabins and warm water? Or were others more primitive?

Alaric stands at the table, studying the map intently, his dark brows drawn down. Strands of his black hair tumble over his forehead and I’m struck again by how beautiful he is. More rough-hewn than his brothers, but all the more handsome for it, I think. I shake myself. It doesn’t matter if he’s handsome or not.

I stop on the other side of the table and he cuts his eyes upward to meet mine across the wide expanse of marble. The gold is the color of warm honey today, a bit darker in the chemical lamps around the room.

“Come,” he says in a clipped tone, holding out his hand in a beckoning gesture. I make my way around the table and by the time I’m beside him, he already has an iron cup in his hand. I hold out my wrist and he quickly slices through my skin as if it’s parchment. I’m more prepared this time, but I still hiss in a quick breath as I feel my skin open, my blood beginning to flow. Though I haven’t done much else these last few days, I have been taking the pills to help increase my blood supply and recover more quickly, and the lightheaded feeling I’d experienced the last time isn’t nearly as bad now.

“I trust everything is to your liking,” he says a little rigidly as my blood drips into the cup. It’s like he doesn’t really want to speak with me, but can’t quite help it. Strange vampire.

“Y-yes.” He gives me one sharp nod and steps away, setting the cup on the table.

“That will be all.”

Effectively dismissed, I turn to find Elias entering the room, grinning his easy smile, the light glinting off of his fangs. Deep blue-gray eyes, tousled golden hair and matching beard, and a dimple on one cheek when he grins—I have no doubt he makes every woman swoon. Men too, I imagine. I think you’d be hard pressed to find any being with a pulse that isn’t charmed by one look at Elias.

“Ah, Lady Dahlia,” he says, bowing dramatically. My lips curl despite my mood. “How are you this lovely evening?”

“I’m well, thank you.” Is my voice…breathy? Gods. I feel my cheeks heat.

“You look it,” he says in a low, smooth voice, eyes skating down my body in a way that makes my stomach tighten and my pulse jump. Is he just a shameless flirt, like so many vampires are? Vampires on the whole are a very physical species, to put it mildly. The blood houses are popular destinations for a reason—and not just for the vampires. I’ve heard rumors that sex with a vampire is unlike anything you can imagine, and being bitten is like seeing the gods. I clear my throat lightly, trying not to think about those particular things at the moment. Elias’ grin widens as if he can read my every thought. Perhaps I’ll find out for myself just what being with a vampire is like. As I drink Elias in, I wonder…but no, I can’t very well do anything with him…can I? Technically, I’m free to do whatever I want with whomever I want...right?

“Elias,” Alaric snaps from the table, sounding irritable.

Perhaps Alaric’s lieutenants are off-limits to his Consort. I’ll have to ask Takara about the rules for these things once I’m feeling more up to it. Elias winks at me and then saunters to the table to join Alaric, unperturbed by the High General’s brisk tone. I get the feeling that nothing much fazes Elias Kovach.

I quickly make my way to the door, glancing over my shoulder to find Alaric’s intent stare on me, the gold in his eyes seeming to burn. With what, I’m not completely sure. Anger? Thirst? Something else? My heart hammers in my chest as something swift and hot rushes through my body at that look, all thoughts of Elias swept from my mind.

I swallow hard and quickly leave the room, closing the door behind me with a loud thud.

The next week is much of the same. I feel myself slipping farther and farther down into the darkness, being pulled beneath the waves of despair. I have little energy, little appetite, little interest in much of anything. I lie in bed, but hardly sleep, everything too different, my room too big and too quiet without Enid here with me. Takara seems unsure what to do to help. She checks in on me every day, makes sure the chef, Reginald, is bringing meals regularly, even if I’m not eating them, and offers to help me bathe or to style my hair, but overall, the vampire has mostly left me to find a way to work through this on my own.

The next time I go to Alaric to offer blood, I know that he notes the dark circles under my eyes, the weight I’ve lost in the two weeks since we arrived, but he doesn’t say anything. He takes my blood and dismisses me with no exchange of words between us at all, but there’s something I can’t quite read radiating off of him in waves. Anger? Annoyance? I’m sure he’s just put out with having to deal with a sad, sulky human, but I honestly can’t quite make myself care. I’m to live with him and provide blood, and that’s all. I have no duty to be pleasant or happy while I do it.

The next day, Alaric leaves with a large group of soldiers. I watch them ride out of the camp and towards the Sisters from the hill where the cabin stands.

“Where are they going?” I ask without taking my eyes off of the procession. I feel as if an invisible string connects me to Alaric and with every step that Xanthus takes, the tauter the string becomes. I know it’s only because of the bonding during the Choosing, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. My body only knows that it longs to be near Alaric, that it should be near him, and as he moves farther away from me, my veins sing with tension and unease. It radiates throughout my whole body like a soft tremor.

“Off to battle,” Takara says easily. My heart stutters and Takara suddenly seems to understand. “Ah, the binding. It will get easier as time goes on and the bond fades.” I only nod absently, still watching the cadre ride out. I wonder what they might be riding out to face, what kind of battle might be waiting for them. What would happen if Alaric…didn’t come back? Icy fingers of dread and fear whisper up my spine. It’s too much. I don’t like feeling this connection to him. I don’t like this utter terror coursing through my body at the thought of something happening to him. The quicker this bond fades, the better.

Takara studies me, her lips pressed into a hard line.

“A walk,” she says simply. I turn to her, finally yanking my gaze from the line of soldiers disappearing in the distance.

“A what? Oh,” I say, realization dawning, “No, I don’t feel?—”

“You are wasting away and going to a dark place,” Takara interrupts. “Part of my job as your Keeper is to keep you healthy, not just in body but in mind as well. I cannot let you wallow any longer. I know that you mourn the loss of your previous life, and you were allowed time for that, but now we must look forward. It is the only way.”

I inhale deeply as Takara’s words—words so similar to da’s—hit me. She’s right. She’s absolutely fucking right. This isn’t me; this isn’t how I should be acting. I’m stronger than this and I know it. I was allowed to feel the sting and pain of loss, but Takara’s right: I need to keep going. It’s time to accept the hand that fate has dealt me and make the most of this new path. Enid always says we need to look for the light in the dark things, to look for joy within the pain and the good within the bad. I know that’s what she’d be telling me to do if she were here beside me now. Probably smacking me with a shoe while she said it, too. A small smile tugs at my lips at the thought for the first time in what feels like an eternity. I let out a long, slow exhale.

I am Dahlia Clayburn. I am my father’s firebrand. It’s time I start acting like it.

I push my shoulders back and lift my chin.

“Yes, a walk sounds perfect.”

Takara smiles and inclines her head, seemingly glad to see me climbing back out of the darkness. So the two of us, accompanied by the six hulking vampires that are apparently my personal guard, make our way through the camp. Why I could possibly need a guard here within the camp is beyond me, but I don’t question it. This is something Alaric was adamant about, even hand-selecting the members himself, so I’m going to have to learn to live with them. Takara assures me that the full guard won’t usually accompany me within the camp, but today they’re all in tow since it was my first real outing and so that I can get to know them.

The camp is absolutely massive, far larger than I ever could have imagined. There must be thousands of vampires here, ready to defend the pass at a moment’s notice. The thought is staggering…and a little terrifying.

I can’t help glancing back over my shoulder every so often as we walk, unused to having a lethal, vampiric shadow on my heels. Though I know they would never hurt me—they are, in fact, charged with doing just the opposite—some long-imbedded instincts put me on edge with them at my back.

“That is the great meeting hall,” Takara says, pointing a slender hand towards a massive building on the southern side of the camp. A golden bracelet in the shape of a snake winds around her wrist and forearm, jade eyes staring up at me. A matching necklace loops around her delicate throat. I wonder if she has an affinity for the creatures or just liked the way the jewelry looked. “They gather there to receive orders and also for feasts and celebrations.” I wonder what a vampire army celebration might look like. Total debauchery, I would imagine.

As if reading my mind, one of my guards—Viktor, I think—grins. “You’ve not experienced life until you’ve attended a celebration in our camp, my Lady.” His eyes are a mix of brown and green, reminding me of the forest near the lake where I used to swim and play as a child. There’s a rakish mischief in them that makes my lips curl upwards at the corners.

“Aye, it’s true,” another guard—Malcom?—says, his brogue thick, reminding me of da’s—or my own at times. Usually if I’m very put out or very drunk. I like hearing it. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend my father is here with me. “Descartes sings when he’s into the blood-laced whisky.” He hikes a thumb towards the biggest of the group, a towering tree of a man with a no-nonsense air about him that makes my smile fade. He does not look amused or happy to be included in the conversation, his shoulders and jaw set into hard lines. “But alas, it is no’ thing o’ beauty, my Lady. Truly horrendous,” Malcom stage-whispers and shudders, “sounds a bit like feral cats fighting inside of a washing barrel.”

Descartes narrows his eyes and my own widen slightly, wondering if Malcom is about to get pummeled or perhaps beheaded…but then the big vampire grins.

“I have a lovely singing voice, my Lady. Do not listen to these ingrates.”

I huff out a surprised laugh and Descartes winks subtly at me before shoving Malcom so hard that he flies off of the path and into stack of crates with a yelp. I gasp and Takara exhales, something between amusement and exasperation.

“They are all children, I swear to the gods…Human, vampire, even Revenants I bet. All men are children .”

The other guards laugh and I feel myself relax despite the unease that had settled deep in my stomach with Alaric’s departure. I’d been afraid that this new life would be a bleak one, with no laughter or joy to be seen, only blood and battle and death. But with their laughter ringing in my ears, I think that perhaps things won’t be so bad.

I eye the meeting hall, wondering again about the celebrations. Would I be allowed to attend? I honestly have no idea how this is all supposed to work. Again, I’m technically allowed to do pretty much anything I want—Consorts are above even Dukes when it comes to titles and privileges—but I have no idea how much that holds true with me being Alaric’s Consort. Ours is a truly unique situation and I have nothing to measure it against, no precedent to rely on. Am I even allowed to come and go as I please anywhere within the camp? Should I stay away from the soldiers? I rub my temples, the endless what-ifs and questions making my head ache.

Fuck this .

I decide then that I’m going to do what I want and see what happens. I’ve always believed in asking for forgiveness, not permission, so why change now? If I do something I shouldn’t, Takara or my guard or Alaric himself will tell me.

Takara continues to point out different parts of the camp: the washhouse, where the army’s clothes are laundered; several large bathhouses for the soldiers where hot water is pumped in just as it is in my own room; training fields and sparring rings; several giant stables filled with horses; and?—

“A smithy?” I breathe, rushing forward before Takara can stop me. Or, more accurately, the vampire could have easily, but chose not to, which I appreciate. The familiar sounds and scents hit me like a physical blow, and my eyes sting with sudden tears. The heat of the forge envelops me like an old friend as I step inside the open-sided building. I feel Takara step under the covered area behind me, but the rest of the guard remain outside.

I look over the stacks of weapons and wrinkle my nose, immediately feeling a tiny twinge of guilt. I’m admittedly biased, but the craftsmanship of these weapons was nowhere near that of my father’s. It’s understandable, of course. An army would need copious amounts of weapons, not necessarily of the highest quality. Not the beautiful instruments of war that Arwan Clayburn creates. I miss him in this moment so badly I can barely breathe.

“What the bloody hells are you doing?” a gravelly voice snaps, pulling me from my pursual of one of the blades. I gasp and leap backward, knocking into Takara who steadies me with amusement. The vampire who steps from a back room is built like a bull, with a barrel-chest and arms as thick as tree trunks, and his long brown hair is pulled back into a knot at the back of his head. His eyes are a blue so light that they remind me of ice. A long scar bisects his left eye, ending just above his lip and tattoos cover much of his skin. He looks absolutely menacing, to say the least, even more so than Descartes—which is really saying something.

“I-I’m sorry, I was just?—”

He glances to Takara and his eyes widen. He quickly bows his head, hastily wiping his hands on his apron. I assume that Takara has already made her rounds through the camp, making sure anyone and everyone is aware of who she is and who she works for.

“Apologies, my Lady. I didn’t realize.” He straightens and his brow furrows slightly, clearly confused by the appearance of the High General’s Consort on his doorstep. I can’t blame him. I doubt any Consort in the history of the Blood Peace has ever stepped foot in this type of place before. “Can I, uh, help you with something?” For some reason, I immediately like the vampire. He reminds me of da in a way, though they don’t look much alike save their muscular builds. Perhaps it’s the unexpected gentleness and kindness in his eyes.

“No, no, I’m sorry I just…Well, I was missing home, honestly,” I admit.

Clearly still confused, he says carefully, “and a blacksmith’s work table might ease the ache?”

“My father…” I bite my lip, “I’m Dahlia Clayburn.” His eyes fly wide.

“Fucking hells,” the vampire breathes and my lips twitch. “Er, pardon, my Lady. I don’t pay much attention to the gossip that flows through the camp and didn’t realize who you were. Your father is legendary .”

“That’s kind of you to say,” I reply, giving him a small smile.

“I’m Braddock.” He bows his head again in introduction.

“Dahlia.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Dahlia.” I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes or correcting him that it’s just Dahlia. Another thing I need to get used to, I suppose.

“Come, my Lady,” Takara says with a light hand on my shoulder. I nod to Braddock, giving a little wave as I walk back out onto the path, but then whirl, unable to stop myself. I’ve decided I’m going to do whatever I please so, might as well start now.

“Would it be alright if I came back? To assist you or to watch or to…to just…” I can’t get the words out to make it make sense. To feel closer to my father. To feel like myself again in this strange place. To ease the ache threatening to tear my heart to ribbons.

“It would be my great honor,” Braddock says, seeming to understand and placing a hand over his chest. A smile breaks over my face and I nod, turning to stride off with Takara and feeling better than I have in two weeks.

As we near the cabin later that afternoon, a vampire is waiting for me with a letter from Enid and my heart nearly bursts. I almost throw my arms around the boy (though I’m sure he’s much older than he looks) but stop myself at the last minute. He gives me a small smile before scurrying off.

“I’ll leave you to your letter and have Reginald begin your dinner, shall I?” Takara asks.

“That would be lovely, thank you. And thank you for…for today. For helping to pull me out.” I know she understands what I mean. She’s been in the darkness before, I can tell. After she lost her family, I can only imagine the darkness that came for her.

“Of course, my Lady.” She smiles and heads down the hill. I run through the cabin and throw myself across my bed as I tear open the envelope.

Dear Lia,

Oh yes, of course, we couldn’t have survived another moment without your letter. You know us so well. (I hope you can feel how hard I am rolling my eyes at you through this ink and parchment). As ridiculous as you are, I cannot lie and say that receiving your letter didn’t make my heart lighten. Do not let that go to your head. The journey sounds amazing. Perhaps I’ll get to make it one day.

I’m very glad that you aren’t sleeping on the ground like an animal. I’m finding it hard to sleep, truth be told. The room is too big without you here. And too quiet without your snoring.

My mouth drops open in protest. “I do not snore!”

Yes, you do snore. Do not try to deny it. I know I’ll get used to it, but for now, I lie awake most of the night and wake bitter and grumpy in the morning. Da even brandished a spoon at me like a sword and called me a demon yesterday. Can you believe him?

I snort. I can see it happening so clearly in my head that I laugh through the tears suddenly welling. I should be there with them. I sniffle and continue reading.

Da misses you, of course, and sends his love. I love and miss you too.

Now, tell me more about this bond between you and the High General. It sounds frightening. But also, perhaps, a little…exciting. Don’t roll your eyes at me. It is terribly boring here without you and the idea of being connected to a sexy vampire warrior is far better than being stuck here avoiding the throngs of new “friends” who are suddenly desperate to talk to me. Such is the life of a Consort’s sister, I suppose. I’m famous and shiny by association, apparently.

I’ll write again soon.

Be safe.

-Enid

I turn to lie on my back, holding the letter above me and running my fingers gently over the ink. I miss them so much, but I know they’ll be ok. I think about today, about seeing the camp and feeling more like myself and I smile a little.

I know we’ll all be ok.