“I am doing what must be done to save our people.” Ruvan’s words are desperate and all too familiar.
“The salvation of our people cannot come from the hands of a hunter!” Ventos slams his palm on the table, rattling the weaponry.
“I will do whatever it takes to save the vampir and end the long night.”
“You are a fool,” Ventos seethes.
“That is my choice—though I see myself as an idealist rather than a fool.” Ruvan draws his height; even though he’s a good head shorter than Ventos, he holds himself as though he’s twice as tall. The vampire lord seems to fill up the space, dwarfing the other man. “The decision of how we progress while awake lies with me and me alone, per how the council decided before sunset of the long night.”
“Then the failure of this, and the ultimate demise of our people because of it, rests solely with you.” Ventos continues to glare.
“I have known that long before I made the oath with a hunter. I knew it from the first moment I was awoken to this cruel and distant future.” Ruvan’s words are heavy; they begin to shape the outline of the leaded core he carries within him. The grief I have gleaned sketches of but not the whole picture. “I am ready to accept responsibility for my choices and whatever comes with them. Though I am optimistic the long night ends with us.”
Ventos leans in, looking like he’s about to say something more. But he ultimately eases away, muttering something about going to an “academy” under his breath as he storms out of the room.
Ruvan and I stand awkwardly, his back to me. His words were bold and strong, but they were a facade for a tired man whose shoulders hunch the second Ventos is gone. I can feel him work to collect himself. To still harbor that foolish hope and passion to protect his people. Passion I never remember Davos showing for us. Passion I’ve tried to both keep and squelch impossibly at the same time…
My chest aches. My eyes burn. I’m angry, frustrated. I want to scream. I want to weep.
And something,somethingcompels me to reach out even when every better sense tells me not to. My hand meets Ruvan’s shoulder. His muscles tense and he inhales deeply. I breathe with him. The skin at the base of my throat—where his mark is—tingles slightly.
I try to open my mouth to speak, but I can’t find the words. His body is hotter than the forge underneath my palm. He’ll burn me if I continue touching him and yet, I can’t stop. I want—
“I’m all right,” he says, finally.
I quickly pull my hand away. What was I doing? Comforting a vampire? I turn to the forge.
“I’m sorry for what he said.” I can feel Ruvan’s eyes on me as he speaks.
“I don’t want the sympathy of vampires.” I don’t want sympathy from anyone. I’ve had my share of hardships, but so have others, far worse than me.
“We don’t have to be your enemies.” His words are as tired as I am angry.
“That’s all you’ve ever been.”
“Once every five—”
“My father died because of you.” My hands stop moving; they’re limp at my side. I stare blankly at the tools in front of me. I don’t know why I’m speaking. I know doing so is foolish. Pointless to seek sympathy I don’t want. Yet I speak anyway. I can see my father’s face as he tucks me into bed, swearing that he will keep me safe from the vampires that stalk in the night. “Ventos was right; I lost someone important. We all have. My father was a hunter, and a good one, too. Hunter’s Hamlet was lesser when a man like him died. That was the nightmare I had this morning. Being in this bloody place reminds me of everything your kind has done to me, to my home, to my family.”
“I’m sor—”
“Spare me your apologies.”
“Do you want them spared when they would be sincere?”
“Sincerity over the death of a hunter?” I scoff. “I thought you all hated our kind.”
“Many do. Many blame all humans for the curse. But I’m capable of hating a circumstance while still pitying the people trapped within it. I know the curse was not your fault and you must see that too.” This is the second time he’s brought this up—seeing the people of the hamlet as victims of these circumstances. We certainly haven’t had the easiest time of it and,fine, if I had a choice I would’ve preferred to live outside walls…
Ruvan continues to linger. Watching me. I wonder if he’s waiting for something. Waiting for me to say something else? Waiting for me to do something? For me to conclude that we are more alike than not? His silence wears me down.
“None of us really want that life,” I say softly. It sounds like a confession. But I wonder who I’m confessing to. Him, or myself? “We’re proud of it, sure. Everyone in Hunter’s Hamlet knows why we sacrifice. Why parents give their children to the fortress so that those beyond our walls don’t have to make the same choices. We don’t like it, but we accept it, and in return we have all our needs taken care of. We have each other—a community. It’s more than a lot of people ever get.”
I’ve heard tales of hardship beyond the walls from the people who join the hamlet. Some towns where there’s enough wealth for all but it’s kept by one. Other places that never see enough food. Places where brutal men and women rule with iron fists and cruelty that is somehow different and worse than the vampire because it’s from our own kind.
He listens intently and then finally says, “It’s odd.”
“What is?”
