I scowl and turn my back to him, striding further into the field, the blooms brushing against my knees. “I prefer for there tonotbe a next time.”
Gods, he is insufferable. Like a thorn that doesn’t quite bleed you, but refuses to be ignored.
“Did you come just to irritate me,” I mutter, “or is there an actual purpose to your dramatic entrance?”
“There’s always a purpose. You just don’t like hearing it.”
I face him again, crossing my arms. “Then say it and go.”
The moonlight catches on his pale blond hair as he studies me, his silver eyes looking strangely solemn. “Elowen is moving pieces again. Quiet ones. Dangerous ones. You know it.”
“I don’tknowanything,” I snap. “You’re the one spinning riddles and showing up uninvited.”
“I’m notspinning riddles. I’m offering information,” he says, stepping closer. My shadows surge at the movement, but he ignores them. “A warning. Help. Because whether you like it or not, something is coming, and if we don’t find out exactly what it is and stop her, there may not be a kingdom left for you to rule.”
I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You expect me to believe you suddenly care about Syltheriel?”
“No,” he says, his voice quieter now. “I care aboutmykingdom. And I care about survival…your survival.”
We stare at each other for a long moment, the silence weighed down by old blood and even older grudges. The memory of Kallan’s still body flashes in my mind. The battlefield, the stench of ash, his blood on my hands, and his name breaking in my throat.
My voice drops to a near whisper. “You think I’ve forgotten what you did to us? To him?”
Dimitri flinches. It’s subtle, but I catch it. For a heartbeat, I hate myself for the satisfaction it brings.
“No,” he says at last, his voice low, almost raw. “Idon’t think you ever will.”
“Yet, you still want me to work with you?”
His eyes meet mine without malice. Without mockery.
“I’m not asking you to like me, Serenya,” he says. “I’m asking you to stop pretending you don’t feel it. That she’s not planning something dangerous.”
A long silence stretches between us.
“Have any of the champions shown signs they might not be who they say they are?” He asks like he already knows the answer.
“Listen, Dimitri, I have enough on my plate without adding paranoid vampire theories to it.”
He sighs softly, disappointed. “Then I hope your plate doesn’t shatter.” He takes a step back, preparing to shift.
“Dimitri.”
He pauses, one brow lifting in question.
“If you come again,” I say, “just vaelshad. Don’t come asa bat. I’ll set you on fire.”
His mouth curves into a slow grin. “There she is.”
With a rustle of wings and a flash of shadow, he’s gone.
I exhale slowly. The conversation pulled something loose in my chest that I’d rather have left buried. I stand alone again in the quiet field, surrounded by nothing but flowers, unsure which threat I fear more: the vampire king with silver eyes, or the strange feeling that comes every time I think of the man who shouldn’t matter after such a short time, but somehow already does.
I sit slowly in the tall grass again and let my magic unfurl, humming gently beneath my skin. My shadows flow through the field and then come back, wrapping around me.
I smile, but it immediately drops as I think about what Dimitri said. I tell myself that he’s wrong. Wrong about Elowen. Wrong about me. Wrong about us needing each other.
I lie back in the grass and stare at the cloudy night sky, letting the ache in my chest settle somewhere deep, where no one can see.
