“Careful,” he whispers before letting me go; I can almost feel him grin. As if he wasn’t the one who made me trip in the first place.
I continue as if nothing happened and hope none of the others noticed. But my mind is elsewhere. Thinking of being alone with him again. Of his strong body pressed against mine. Him consuming me. I shiver and try to get my racing mind under control.
We emerge into a study. More books and records are wedged in every location. Lavenzia lets out a low whistle.
“Callos would have the best day of his life with this,” she says.
“This is all really old… Think it was Jontun’s?” Winny asks.
“Maybe,” Lavenzia says.
“Callos already has enough that we’re bringing back to keep him busy; I amnotcarrying any more books.” Ventos trudges toward the opposite door. Winny follows, Ruvan and Lavenzia behind. But I linger.
“What is it?” Ruvan halts when he notices I’m not with the rest of them.
Rather than answering, I take the medallion from my pocket and place it into a mirrored divot on the drawer of the desk. It fits perfectly. I press and a small hatch pops open in the middle of the desk.
“What the—” Lavenzia murmurs.
“What’s inside?” Ruvan asks as I open the latch all the way.
“Some kind of letters.” I delicately take a small bundle from the hidden compartment.
“We’ll open them when we’re back. We’ve already been gone too long. Quinn and Callos will be worried.” Ruvan holds out his hand expectantly. I cross and hand him the letters. “Callos will work through everything and discern if anything is useful here at all.”
The remark gives me pause.If. If there’s anything useful. What if there isn’t? What if we don’t find a way to break the curse? Will I be bloodsworn to the vampir lord until the end of my natural days? There was nothing in our initial vow that gives me reason to think this oath can be broken for something as simple as not finding the curse anchor as expected.
I want to ask, but I don’t—I can’t.
Down a series of connected rooms, up a stairwell, and through a locked door that Ventos breaks down with his broadsword, we emerge back into the western wing of the castle—where I first arrived. Just like that, I’m back at the beginning, and yet everything is changed.
CHAPTER21
Callos and Quinnare shocked to see us. Delighted, but very surprised. They don’t even bother hiding that they had already begun to write us off for dead—something that the others don’t seem to find nearly as unnerving as I do. Apparently it’s quite normal to go into the old castle and never be seen or heard from again.
Our return quickly becomes a small celebration. Quinn announces that he will gladly dip into the stores of blood to replenish everyone’s strength. It’s still odd to see people dropping blood from obsidian vials into water goblets, but it doesn’t unnerve me as it once did. Moreover, I know now how much they need it.
Their faces had been looking a little gaunt, a little more monstrous, the longer we spent in the castle depths. I wonder if it is a function of being so far from the sun, being so close to others who had Succumbed to the curse, or how much power and energy they all exerted. Likely all these things combined.
Just like back in Hunter’s Hamlet, I use the smithy as an escape when the festivities start up. Because just like in Hunter’s Hamlet, these celebrations aren’t meant for me. I might be on better terms with them all, but I’m still not “one of them.” I can’t expect to ever be. So I carry their weapons through the main hall, past their chambers, and into my quiet solitude of creation.
But, when I’m here, my hands don’t move. The forge is cold. Sad. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to spark it.
Where do I belong?Moreover,whatam I meant to be? Perhaps Ruvan can tell me by looking into my blood. Maybe I’m not “meant” to be anything. I’m as malleable as hot metal, waiting to be shaped. But what shape will I become? The metaphorical hammer has always been in other people’s hands—be the forge maiden, keep Hunter’s Hamlet protected by outfitting the hunters. Allow the master hunter to decide my husband. Have a child. Pass on the vital information and trade of my lineage.
Stay in line and do everything you’re told. Never think about anything else because if you do you might realize just how suffocating all the demands and expectations are. My breath is ragged. My feet pace across the floor as fast as my heart pounds in my chest.
For the first time, I have control and I…I don’t know what I want.
I try to smother the thoughts by holding on to the disk and thinking of the dream. There’s more to that than Ruvan or I know. Something is different within me. Something is changing and I’m helpless to stop it.
I feel him before I hear him—his sturdy, unyielding, blistering presence.
The world parts for Ruvan, as if he’s the one standing still, and the rest of us are moving around him, pulled by his undeniable power. Ventos’s earlier remark about the bloodsworn confirmed my suspicions. This pact must be what’s changing me. The longer I’m in this arrangement, the less I’m who I was, and the more I’m someone new. Someone I don’t know yet. Someone I couldn’t have imagined myself becoming even in my wildest dreams.
“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the rest of them?” I ask, staring at the cold forge rather than looking at him. If I look at him, I’ll give in to his hands, his mouth, again…and I won’t feel the slightest bit guilty for it.
“They need their victories where they can find them. Ending the long night isn’t on their heads, it’s on mine. I’m not sure whatI’msupposed to be celebrating,” he answers with a solemn note that pulls his voice into a lower register. I grip the disk tightly to prevent my arms from breaking out in goosebumps at the richer, fuller sound. “We don’t even know yet if we’re any closer to breaking the curse. We certainly didn’t find the anchor and for that I feel more like a failure than any triumphant hero.”
