Alaric noticed my gaze. “Italy is beautiful. Ever been?”
I scoffed. “Not a chance. Until two weeks ago, I’d never been on a plane before.”
He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Well, you should go one day. Once you’ve mastered certain things. You’d love it.”
His words surprised me, but really shouldn’t have. It made sense that going to somewhere old and ancient like Europe would be a breeding ground for the Stonebound and death echoes. If I ever wanted to travel safely, I’d need to gain a deeper understanding of what being a Bloodwright meant and how to properly use my powers to protect myself.
“So, what exactly is on the agenda for this evening?” I asked, eager to get this dinner over and continue what we started last night. I thought about bringing a bag of clothes to change into but realized there was no way I could get that past Tiffany. I guess I’d have to train in this fancy getup.
“Right now, appetizers,then dinner, and maybe dessert if you’re up to it.” He smiled smugly.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I meant after all this.”
He took a sip of the sparkling water the waiter had brought over, looking at me over the candlelight. “Tonight, we’re just having dinner, Mari. Training can wait until tomorrow. Besides, we need to get to know each other properly. If I’m to be your mentor, there has to be mutual trust and respect between us. That’s the only way this is going to work long-term.”
I nodded, taking in his words, trying not to be disappointed that there wouldn’t be any training tonight. “Well, what do you want to know?”
He smiled. “Tell me about your Nana. The one who ignited your awakening.”
I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. “That’s pretty deep.”
“We don’t have time to beat around the bush, Mari.” He folded his hands, resting his chin on top of them. “If you want, I can go first.”
I perked up at that. Up until now, I realized I didn’t know anything about Alaric, at least nothing that was truly meaningful. I nodded, urging him to continue.
He cleared his throat. “My mother was the one who ignited my awakening when I was ten years old. We were living in London at the time, and it was just my mum and I that weekend while my father was off on a business trip to Zurich. Everything was fine that day—we had gone to the zoo and had ice cream for dinner.” His voice hitched as he continued, fighting unshed tears. “She went to bed smiling. I kissed her goodnight, and in the morning . . . she just didn’t wake up.”
I stared in disbelief; his grief for his dead mother was palpable. “What happened?”
He shrugged, as if the physical motion would push the weight of his grief away. “The coroner said it was a heart attack in her sleep. Rare, but apparently prevalent in her family history.”
I reached my hand across the table, taking his hand in mine, the same electricity moving between us. “I’m so sorry, Alaric.”
He nodded, squeezing my hand. “Dad came home and realized as soon as the headaches started what it meant for me. He gave me that ring,” he indicated the one on my finger, “and began training me. He saved me in more ways than one.”
At that moment, the waiter arrived with our appetizer, and we began to eat in silence, the somberness of his grief still weighing down on us. But instead of feeling awkward, I felt a kinship building between us, like the small embers of a fire, slowly gaining life.
When the waiter cleared our plates and brought our entrees, I finally spoke up about my own grief.
“Well, my Nana raised me down in Georgia ever since I was a toddler after my parents died. I don’t remember them, but I remember her. The late nightscatching fireflies in the backyard. The lazy summer afternoons lying in a hammock while she read to me. It never even occurred to me that one day she could just not be there anymore.”
Tears pricked the back of my eyes, and I pushed the risotto around on my plate.
“At least her death was peaceful.” I continued, glancing up to find Alaric’s intense gaze on me, taking in every word I said. “She also died in her sleep. The hospital said it was a stroke. I was also the one to find her the next morning.”
The memory of walking into Nana’s room with her morning cup of tea still seared into my memory like a burn.
“It was a Sunday morning, and she was usually up by 8am. But that morning, it was 11am before I got worried. Sometimes I wondered if I had checked in on her sooner, maybe I could have saved her . . .”
He reached over, cupping my face in his large hand, forcing me to look at him. “You can’t do that to yourself. You can’t think like that. It will only drive you crazy. Trust me. I’ve been there.”
I nodded, surprised to feel a few stray tears falling. Alaric wiped them away gently before they could ruin my makeup.
“You know,” I admitted. “I haven’t talked to anyone about that day.”
He smiled sadly, knowingly, about to respond when his gaze locked onto something over my shoulder, his entire being growing tense, green eyes wide in shock. He quickly recovered, grabbing my hand tightly.
“You need to do exactly what I say without question,” he commanded, his voice low and grave.
