My eyes roll up to the coal-gray sky, and then to the building across the street. The falling snowflakes seem to hover in the air before me, as if frozen in time, before fluttering to the stones at my feet. I walked on, wondering why I’d agreed to come here in the first place.
Haven’s face appears in my mind, her midnight-blue eyes shining with tears and her cheeks rosy as she pleads with me to check on her father. My heart constricts just at the memory. How could I deny her? I can’t. Not after everything I’ve done to her.
And those lips… Those soft, rose-petal lips that lay over one another begging to be kissed. I just couldn’t ignore them anymore. Before I knew it, I was kissing her. She hadn’t pulled back like I’d expected. I’d felt something inside me stirring, wanting more, but then came the doubt. The nerves. I never want to upset her in any way. It was the only reason I pulled away. Otherwise…
Even as I enter the alleyway and stand under thewindow where I’d found Haven before, I can’t help but daydream about her. Could it be the craving drawing me to her? The need for human blood? Or is it something more? Something beyond the blood lust.
I want her. Only her.
I have to clear my head. Deep down, I know the truth. I care about Haven more than I have ever cared for anyone, but I can’t act on my feelings. It is too dangerous. Helping her escape should be my priority. Henri still owns her. That much hadn’t changed. If we are going to have any chance at sneaking away, we will have to do so right under Henri’s nose.
I look around for a way inside Haven’s home. Every door of the building is boarded shut. I could climb through a window. I look up at the small, circular window I had found Haven standing underneath. No light shines through the stained glass. All I can hear is the quick pattering of the hearts of nearby rodents.
Spotting a large wooden crate a few steps away, an idea forms. I push it over until it sits just under the window’s ledge and haul myself up. Before the weak wood can give way, I reach up and feel around the ledge until my fingers brush against the smooth metal of the window latch. I flick it, and the stained glass swings out. Digging my nails into the wood, I hoist myself up and climb through the small space.
The moment I stand up, a pungent, sickening smell hits me like a blow. I stagger back, pressing the back of my hand to my nose. Through the shadows, I can see a single mattress near the opposite wall. As my visionfocuses and sharpens against the darkness, I can make out a large mound upon it, covered by a tattered quilt.
Carefully, I move forward. The closer I get, the harsher the smell becomes. My eyes begin to water and my stomach twists with repulsion. There are no sounds—no heartbeat, no breathing, except for my own.
With the toe of my boot, I nudge the blanket. There’s no movement from underneath.
I lift it.
Bile rises up my throat. A wrinkled, sunken face looks back at me with closed eyes. With every similar feature I find of Haven’s, my heart sinks a little more—the small, round-tipped nose, the full lips. I have a sickening feeling that if his eyes were open, I’d see that they were a dazzling shade of blue.
Haven’s father. And he is dead.
“You said you found him that way?” Lysander says as he pulls out a sword from the rusted trunk at the other side of the attic.
“Yes,” I reply. “The only thing in the room was a mattress, and he was laying there. Seemed to have passed in his sleep.”
“Or from the cold.” Lysander examines his blade, twisting it in his hand and running his finger over the edge to test its sharpness. When he pulls his hand away, dark red liquid drips down his skin.
Within seconds, his pale skin is mended. Satisfied, hesmirks and tosses the sword to me. I manage to catch it, but for some reason it feels a bit heavier in my hand.
Lysander pulls another out of the trunk and swipes it a few times through the air, pleased with his choice. “Are you going to tell her?” he asks me.
After returning from the city, I’d walked right passed Haven’s bedroom door, too afraid to give her the news. It’s going to devastate her, and I don’t know if I have the heart to do that to her.
“Well?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “I don’t think I can.”
“And why not?”
“She loved her father.” When Lysander gestures for us to begin the training, I raise my sword. Dueling is the last thing I want to be doing right now. My head’s not in it. “This would break her heart.”
“Yes, that’s true, but you won’t be able to lie to her forever.”
I know he’s right, but how to tell her something so terrible? I don’t want to be the one to tell her that the only person she loves is now dead.
“I will tell her, but not now. Not yet.”
I roll my aching shoulders as the stress of everything presses down on them. This news can even jeopardize our escape. Haven needs to be at her strongest if we’re going to make it out of here alive.
Lysander stands there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, waiting. Unlike me, he doesn’t care about the emotional aspect of what I’d discovered. He focuses on what must be done next, and right now, it’sgetting me trained to fight, just in case things come to that. Just in case I have to defend us.
Sighing, I stand the way I’ve been told to, with my legs shoulder-length apart, right foot slightly placed in front of my left, knees bent, elbows relaxed, wrist stiff.
