“Alaric’s newborns are trained soldiers. They follow his every command. But they were once human, and their lives were taken, which is why we have to stop him.”
“But your father, he doesn’t know—”
“Everything I told you must stay between us. Trust me, Pari. And I need to trust you.” Though Pari understood and seemed to be taking it well, I had a feeling Father would not. He was in control. He was the type to not act unless he came upon the decision himself.
She paused a moment. Her eyes warmed on me. “Of course you can trust me.” She hesitated before lifting her arms, and I ignored the pang that ate through my chest at that as I fell into her with a tight hug.
What she knew now was treasonous, and if she didn’t act against it, she would be a traitor. I never wanted her to know because I didn’t want her to have to make this decision.
When we broke away, we held on to each other’s hands. “I’m so sorry, Pari. I never meant for you to find out. I never wanted to put you in this position.”
“Nonsense, Charlotte. I wish you had told me earlier.”
“To hold this sort of information puts your life at risk.”
“If your life is at risk, then mine will be too. I can’t let you do this alone.”
* **
I assured Sebastian I would be okay with Pari as she spent the night, but he didn’t seem too convinced. He took the guest bedroom across the hall. Before I left him for the night, he held me close, one hand at my lower back, the other cradling the nape of my neck.
“What do you feel?” His ebony eyes looked tortured.
“It feels wrong, like the fabric of fate has been shredded and hastily stitched together in all the wrong places. And it hurts.” The bond wanted me close to Alaric, but it also knew it was rejected.
“I’m so sorry you will have to live with this pain.” He searched my eyes as if he could weed it out.
“Maybe we could find a way to sever it.”
I could tell he didn’t want to stomp out my hope by the look on his face. “We can try.”
He held me closer, and I rested my face on his chest, breathing him in. Amber and smoke. Warmth and mystery. The energy between us hummed. It was almost enough to ease the ache of the other bond, the one that would remain eternally starved. The longer he held me, the more certain I was that this pain would become a distant whisper. And as odd as it sounded, I was content to take that with me, to let that piece of Alaric live within me, to let he who had nothing have something. I hoped that little piece of me within him would unfurl and reach out, guide him to where he could find everything.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I couldn’t stop smushing the paint around the canvas, and it turned brown yet again. I fussed with the shapes until anything discernible melded into one giant blob. What sat before me was a deserted wasteland. I’d add color only for it to blend out into nothing, and the desolation grew along with the pit in my stomach. My failed painting was not just a bad day; it was a bad omen.
It had been too quiet.
I had not encountered Alaric in over three months. Before I met Sebastian, he haunted me every single day, and now he had simply disappeared. Shadows remained stagnant. The temperature sat still. And though he had left me alone, his silence was his worst method of torture. Because I knew it was coming.
Alaric did not quit.
He was showing no mercy. With it being this long, he was planning something huge. His final move. A decimation, which was what laid before me, a dull haze I couldn’t bring life to. No matter how hard I tried, I could not resurrect the wasteland. And my strokes became frantic then.
A large hand clasped over mine, stilling it. “Breathe, mannyenska.”
“I can’t wait any longer,” I whispered.
“We’ll be ready for him.”
After Alaric had shown himself at the harvest ball, the Society had tried to monitor him and his army as best they could, but he was a master illusionist. Sebastian knew he was hiding something, though he couldn’t exactly explain that to my father. No one knew that vampires were capable of creating illusions. It was a bad idea to attack Alaric. We could have marched right into the middle of his army and not known until he pulled back the veil, ambushing us.Sebastian convinced my father to wait, but be prepared for an attack at any moment.
He picked up the painting that would haunt my dreams and set it aside, placing a fresh, blank canvas before me. He picked up a clean palette and brush, squeezing out a rich green onto it and handed it to me. The color of life.
I smiled up at him, and his gaze draped over me like velvet and honey.
Olivia was painting again. I observed her furiously, constantly at her shoulder absorbing all that she did. She was mostly herself again, though I’d often catch her eyes still, set on something far off in the distance, far away from this world. After awhile she would wake, blinking softly, adjusting once more to her surroundings.
