“Where does the water come from?”
“The mountain. The snow near the peak melts and siphons through the porous rock. Between that and the occasional vesper that finds its way in here, the rabble beasts will be happy to spend an evening within these walls.”
“And tomorrow?”
He meets my eyes. “Tomorrow, we have two choices. We can go to Aendor and stay with Tempest as we’d planned. Given the circumstances, we will have to remain hidden. It is the first place New Stygarde will search for us.”
“It was worth any consequence to watch you punch Brahm in the nose,” I say through a smile. “The king bleeding profusely as his eyes roll back in his head and he hits the dirt like a sack of potatoes will forever live rent free in my head.”
He snorts. “I admit it felt good and was a long time coming, but it means we can never again pretend to be anything other than traitors to the crown. Right now, I suspect we are enemy number one.”
“They’ll never drop us from their most-wanted list, will they?”
“Never. I’m a risk now. A prince returned. The risen dead who refused to bend the knee. After tonight, they will see us as a threat as long as we’re living.”
“Great.” I lean up against the cave wall. “What’s our other option?”
“We head north and hope Aurora is still alive. We see if the witches of Dimhollow will take us in. If they agree to protect us, they may be able to help you get your magic back.”
A spark of yearning travels through me. It’s been too long since I felt the connection to my ancestors that fuels my magic. “I’d do anything to have it again. I love being here with you, Damien, but you can’t imagine what it has been like for me. I feel as if I’ve lost a limb. I feel completely disconnected from…” I try to find the words. “From my soul. My spirituality. My place in the universe. I have to get it back. I have to. I won’t feel normal until I do.”
He pulls me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. “Then it’s settled. Tomorrow, we seek out Aurora.”
“And tonight—” I break from his embrace and spread my arms wide toward the ceiling “—we celebrate our freedom and the goddess who blessed us with it.”
His answering smile warms my heart. He grabs my hand and drags me toward the exit. “Come. The quicker we make our sacrifice, the faster I can have you back here and celebrating in an entirely different way.”
Damien morphs into his shadow form and covers the tracks of our beasts before we run the few miles to the site of the Harvest Festival. The stars shine bright overhead, overseeing the sounds of cheerful music that accompany a crowd of revelers. Hundreds of shades dance and drink and eat, spinning around the most beautiful effigy of Thanesia. And her altar is overflowing with sacrifices.
As soon as we arrive, Damien takes me straight there, and we both give an offering of our blood. It’s all we have to give. It mingles and sinks through the fruits and meats and tapestries, all the way to the stone.
Then he takes me in his arms and I dance. It’s a half hour before Tempest sees us and approaches. “Blessings from above! I wasn’t sure you’d make it out of that one, you two. I’ve never seen the queen so angry. I slipped out while she was having quite the tirade. Of course, it isn’t every day that both the king and his master of the guard are knocked on their asses.”
Damien grunts. “I would have preferred to do it the safe and silent way, but if I had to burn my bridges, at least I fed a few of my enemies to the fire.”
A smiling shade comes by with a pitcher of wine and a stack of goblets and pours us each one. As soon as she leaves, Tempest squeezes Damien’s arm. “At least now you can come to Aendor. We can plan next steps.”
“Next steps?” I ask.
Damien just shakes his head. “Thank you, Tempest, but given the circumstances, we’ve decided to throw ourselves on the mercy of the witches of Dimhollow. I have friends there.”
Tempest draws back. “A visit to the witches is a good idea, Damien, but first you should come to Aendor and meet the other rebels. You are the rightful king. You are the leader the resistance needs. We can’t take back the kingdom without you!”
There’s a second of awkward silence, and then Damien drains his glass and sets it atop a nearby stone that’s serving as a table.
“Loosen up, Tempest,” he says. “It’s Harvest Festival. This is a conversation for another time.” He pulls me into his arms, and we dance away from her, blending into the whirling crowd.
“Damien, maybe we should talk to her. Maybe we should at least meet with the resistance before we go?—”
He kisses away my final words, his mouth tasting like wine. “Not. Tonight.”
I don’t mention it again.
Since the night I turned vampire, I haven’t seen or felt a sunrise. I also haven’t dreamed like I did when I was human. My brain doesn’t play in the space of nighttime imaginings as my human mind once did. When I sleep now, it is the sleep of the dead, empty and black. Restful. I can’t bring myself to mourn the loss of my dreams or the feel of the sun on my face through my window as I wake. That life feels light-years away. A distant memory like my toddlerhood or my time in my mother’s womb.
The rising of the moon wakes me now. No light finds its way into the cave, but I know its bright face is shining on the horizon because the blood in my veins is singing for it. Beside me, Damien is still asleep. I slip from beneath his arm and pad for the mouth of the cave, hearing the gentle chuff of the bramble beasts from where they wait in the adjoining section we’ve used as a stable.
Gently, I move the branches aside and step out into the early dawn. The moonlight on my face feels as warm as the sun now and as bright as it can be without burning me. I close my eyes and draw a deep breath through my nose, enjoying the peaceful moment, the sounds of birds and small animals in search of their morning sustenance coming from the woods.
