AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“They may be tedious,” she sneered, “but even those old toads can prove useful from time to time. Perhaps one of them might shed a bit of insight into Nestra’s interest in Gwendolyn. I’m not wholly confident, but they always seem to know more than anyone else about things no one should.”
The Council’s reach had only grown over the centuries as the power of the fae had started to slip thanks to their withdrawal from the mortal world. If the zephyr High Priestess was plotting something sinister to overthrow her king and assume his role, they would be eager to confirm it. Plus, Levian had ways of getting what she wanted out of them, even if she was a black sheep.
“When?” he asked, far more eager for her to explore this path than the alternative of her father.
She shrugged. “When they deign to see me. I doubt it will take long.”
He nodded.
Levian stared into the fire, her mind somewhere else entirely. Eventually, she let out a huff of air. “I didn’t think it could be done,” she said quietly. “All those years of close calls and swords driven through you—you never flinched. I honestly started to think you’d never die. That nothing could kill you.”
The one thing Sirus had always known was that he would die. He was immortal, but to vampires, death was the cost of living. He was surprised he’d survived as long as he had. He should have died so many times. That day he’d faced Marcus, he’d been prepared to take his last breath. The zephyr had spared him for reasons he did not know, only to claim the blood debt in order to keep Gwendolyn out of Nestra’s hands.
“I’ve been lucky,” he replied in earnest.
A sad little smile touched the corners of Levian’s lips. Sirus felt her growing anxious. It was unlike Levian to be so unsettled. “Are you very mad?” she asked him, not looking up to meet his eye. “For what we did?”
It was against his code of honor to take blood freely given. In a desperate attempt to save him, they had let Gwendolyn give hers that night of the mirrors. He could still remember her whimper of pain that had drawn him out of his feral state and back into himself. How disgusted and furious he’d been as realization had dawned.
Sirus dragged in a slow breath and held it. He had been angry. Very angry. But he saw little use in being angry now. What was done was done. All that was left was to move forward. “It is in the past,” he said, hoping that would be enough. Levian’s gaze darted up to his with a touch of disbelief.
Something in him had shifted after that night in the mirrors. Sirus was still angry, but only with himself. He’d been racked over how callous he’d been toward Gwendolyn.
She’d done nothing wrong. He’d done everything wrong.
Speaking with Levian had been the first step in his plan. Setting out to uncover more about Gwendolyn’s true nature and the risks she faced was the second. The mage had satisfied both rather painlessly. Which left him with the third step: to make amends. He was determined to do so in any way possible.
Sirus had known he was going to die well before he and Gwendolyn escaped the Hall of Reflections through his mirror. It was his desperation to save Gwendolyn that had pushed him to keep going even when he knew there was no hope of finding a way out. He still wasn’t sure how she’d managed to figure it out. In truth, he’d done little. She’d saved herself.
The memory stirred something within him, an emotion far beyond what he’d ever thought himself capable. He’d faced the prospect of death many times before, as Levian had said, but the call had never come. The moment he fell through that mirror and into the cold embrace of the shadows with Gwendolyn in his arms, he’d felt a calm like he’d never known. On the other side, he knew Gwendolyn would be safe. It had given him peace. Something in his chest tightened as he remembered her tears as she’d knelt over him. Trying to save him. Promising that he would be okay.
He’d not deserved her tears. He’d not deserved her fear. Her care. But he’d savored it all the same.
There had been something primal about his draw to Gwendolyn that night in Abigail’s garden. There had been lust, to be sure. Desire unlike anything he’d ever known. But there’d also been something else. A rawness that tempted him. A fire within her that drew him in and threatened to thaw the iciest parts of his being.
Sirus had not deserved what Gwendolyn had given him, but he was not sorry he’d taken it. He was not sorry he lived. If only she would wake so he could begin to make amends for all he had done.
“I’ve written to Iathana,” Levian said, drawing Sirus sharply out of his head again.
His attention snapped to the mage. “The dryad?” he clarified. She nodded.
Iathana was the leader of the dryads, a race of wood fae who, like the other fae kingdoms, kept themselves closed off from the mortal world. Only unlike the other fae, the dryads rarely invited outsiders into their Eden, the Veil of the White Wood. They were also notoriously difficult to communicate with.
“To what end?”
“Gwendolyn is quite young and still untarnished by our world,” the mage said. “If she is somehow touched by the magick of a Star, I think Iathana would give her sanctuary in the Veil.” Sirus’s body tensed, causing his wound to sear with pain again. “But that doesn’t mean she will act swiftly,” Levian continued, not noticing his tension. “It could be hours, days, or years before she responds—if she ever does. You know how the dryads can be.”
Sirus had to concede that if Iathana accepted her, Gwendolyn would be safest in the Veil. Unlike other creatures of the Folk, the dryads did not crave power nor seek to extend their abilities. They were as close to purely virtuous and altruistic as magickal Folk could be. But they were strange in their customs. Swayed more by the breeze and shake of trees than by sense and logic. The idea of sending Gwendolyn away gave him pause, but he would not stand in the way if Iathana were to agree. She would be safe in the Veil. In such an Eden, Gwendolyn would, without a doubt, find peace and happiness.
“For now, I wish you all to stay here,” he told her.
Levian’s eyes went a touch wide, then narrowed. “Are you sure?” she asked, clearly not expecting the offer. It was no secret that those outside of his vampire clan were unwelcome within the walls of Volkov Castle. It was their private sanctuary, hence the intricate warding spells that engulfed it and the hundreds of acres that surrounded it. No one could find it, let alone enter. Entry was not unprecedented though. Outsiders had been allowed under rare circumstances.
Sirus nodded. “Volkov is protected well. Gwendolyn will need your guidance. Stay, if you will.”
The mage was blatantly taken aback. It was clear that Levian intended to continue to help find answers for Gwendolyn, and for that he wanted her close. To stay. For all of them to remain and help Gwendolyn. She would need them.
“I will,” she said, relaxing slightly. “And so will Barith.” She half snorted. “In fact, I think he’s made himself rather at home already.”
