I know that I shouldn’t stop. I should just keep walking and pretend that I didn’t hear him, escape to my room or a quiet corner of the library, and lose myself in a book. Instead, my bootscrapes to stone floor of the academy, a facility that is as large as a city, built entirely from ancient magic and massive stonework thus earning it the title “the city of stone”.
I jut my chin as I draw to a halt right in front of him and two or three of his snickering imbecilic friends. “It must be a difficult concept for you to grasp,” I say, tilting my head. “To have a loving father. Someone you would actually want to carry the name of. But I wish you the best in trying to wrap your mind around that concept.”
I know it’s a low blow, the sort of jab that Wilder would make, but my father always taught me to fight by turning my enemy’s weapons against them. To be frank, if Wilder were not such a horrible creature, I might even pity him. His strained relationship with his father is no secret. After all, his father is a powerful and cunning magicker, a prominent name in the academy, and he expects his son to continue the family legacy of meddling in the magical world.
Wilder already has much to redeem himself for in his father’s eyes, since he was born of an illicit affair with a servant.
Still, he is Zubkov and so things are expected of him. Doors are opened for him. And he is still his father’s son even if neither of them particularly cares for that fact.
“If that is what you have to tell yourself to get through being an inn keeper’s daughter.”
I snort. It’s true, the start of Elwis’s empire was the inn that he gifted to my adopted mother Vala, but he was never a humble inn keeper. Around the time my father bought that inn, he was already a member of the assassin Family of Night, and over the years he became their leader, starting his own ring of thieves and becoming a ruler of a criminal empire, all while buying land and betraying business partners.
But, of course, Wilder has no idea of any of this. And so, like any ignorant person, he talks even when he has no idea what he is saying.
I fold my arms, studying the third button on his vest. I don’t want to look up into his face because he is and has always been unfortunately handsome, and I have no time to deal with my own treacherous thoughts.
The button is engraved with an owl, it’s a fine piece of craftmanship, and displays his family’s wealth. Wilder is so rich that he can’t even have plain buttons.
Maybe I should have my buttons engraved. Is that what people do to display power these days? Maybe it can finally earn me some respect around here.
Since Elwis is virtually immortal as both a Lower Elf and a vampire, I don’t ever expect to inherit the business from him, but I will hold a place in power within it alongside my father. He has already been training me and my sisters to be ready. I am to be the magicker of the family.
I will be a somebody and Wilder will only ever remain anobody.
But I can’t say any of this because keeping my father’s secret is paramount. The whole world believes he is a reputable businessman, and I will not be the daughter who betrays his secret.
I force a smile. “Anyway, as lovely as it was to see you again, Wilder, I would rather set myself aflame and slowly burn to death than talk to you any longer, so I think I’ll be off.”
I start to turn to leave, but just then he reaches up and snags my hair. I stiffen as he gives it a slight tug. It doesn’t even hurt, but it’s enough to boil my blood.
I have always had thick unruly hair; it falls half in cascading waves and half as tangled curls, and I have spent much of my lifeattempting to tame it. It is long and thick, and the slightest bit of moisture will cause it to become a frizzy mess.
My twin has hair much like mine, but she was blessed to have red hair which was always meant to be a bit wild. My hair is a dull color of brown and has always been a sensitive issue for me.
I donotappreciate Wilder having the audacity to lay his hands on it. Why if my father knew he would slice off each of his fingers. One by bloody one.
I whirl, balling my hands into fists ready to give Wilder a piece of my mind, but I freeze as I finally look him in the face.
Wilder has always been quite pale, a fact that is emphasized by his stark white hair, a token of his higher elf descent. He has always looked every bit the part of the aristocrat he is with his refined cheekbones and haughty brow, but there is something about his appearance that has a sharper look now. His jawline is more angled, his face narrower.
And his eyes… his eyes sparkle like twin flames. Like two rubies set in his face.
He smiles, his eyes flicking over me as he waits for my explosion. I think he lives for the moments when I go off on him. It must make him feel so superior that he is able to control his emotions, and I always explode with anger.
But I am frozen.
Slowly, I watch that smile slide off his face, but I can’t seem to move or stop myself from staring.
Many have convinced themselves that vampires are nothing more than bedtime stories, told to children to keep them in their beds at night. Despite the numerous accounts of their existence, most people are content to believe that monsters existed only in the past, long ago wiped out by our bold ancestors.
Those that would acknowledge that vampires even exist choose to see them as wretched creatures. Things that are barelyeven human that hide from the sun and forget that they are not animals as they rot away in deep caves.
It is true that there are savage vampires, animalistic creatures that are nothing but instinct and bloodlust.
It’s true that long ago the monsters were nearly wiped out, but what these people don’t seem to realize is that as long as there are humans, there are vampires because any human is capable of becoming one.
And they forget that these vampires were at first humans.
