I stiffen. ‘He what? No, no! You can’t let him in, he’s the one, he was the one who tried to kill you, Papa, you can’t!’ I struggle against my mother’s arms. She’s frozen, vampire still. My father comes over and kneels. His handsome face seems more lined than usual, his golden eyes gleaming. He takes something from his pocket and puts it on my lap. It’s my Raven necklace.
‘What… how did you?—’
‘It arrived last night. With a note.’
‘A note?’ My voice is hoarse.
My father nods. ‘Asking for something, in return for your life.’
‘Wh-what did they want?’
‘Me.’
I can’t speak, tears spilling down my face.
‘I was to go to them tonight, to a meeting place. They would hand you over, and I was to go with them in return.’
‘Papa, I?—’
‘I was getting ready to leave when they found you at the gates.’
‘You were?’
His head tilts slightly, his mouth curving. ‘Of course, dear one. How could I do any different, when your life was at stake?’
My mother gasps, her arms tightening convulsively. I can’t stop crying. I reach for my father, pulling him to us, my mother’s arms opening so we tangle together, a perfect shield of love as I weep.
When we come apart there’s blood on both their faces, my mother dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief, then wiping my father’s. He kisses her, then me, his lips cool and soft on my cheek.
‘Come, my loves,’ he says. ‘We must get you safe before Mistral arrives.’
‘What? You’re still going to let him in?’
‘Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.’ He picks me up, my blanket trailing as he carries me from the room, my mother at his side. Two guards fall into step behind us as we speed through the corridors to the fortified rooms.
‘Aleks, do you think this is necessary?’ My mother is even more pale than usual.
‘It is, beloved. I don’t want him anywhere near either of you.’ Father punches in the code and the magnetic locks disengage, the door swinging open. Inside, the fortified rooms look like any other room in the house, stone walls lined with polished wood the colour of flame, soft sofas resting on embroidered carpets. Against one wall is a four-poster bed piled with cushions and made up with white damask, illuminated by the soft glow of candle-lamps.
My mother pulls back the bedcovers and my father places me on the bed, tucking the blanket around me. He kisses me on the brow, then kisses my mother.
‘Stay here. I’ll be back soon.’
‘But Father?—’
‘Don’t worry, Emelia. Mistral will be very sorry he chose this path.’ The lean lines of his face tighten, his eyes glittering. He goes to the door and opens it. ‘Keep them safe,’ I hear him tell the guards. The door closes, a dull thudding as the locks engage.
My mother sits next to me, leaning back on the pillows. I snuggle into her. She strokes my hair, her cool fingers soothing.
‘Mama?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘For… everything. For leaving. For arguing with you. For not being… what I’m supposed to be.’
