A nuisance. A safe harbor. An irritant. A confidant. A multitude of things, really.
I was sitting at my vanity, readying myself for bed. I’d stopped combing my hair, frozen in thought. Now, the instrument was tangled in my tresses.
“Lady Reyva, let me do that.” Alba gently took the brush from my hand.
She’d made herself scarce since the tavern and something about her demeanor and body language made me think she’d put her guard up around me. Maybe it was something she saw, something Shaw said. Maybe it was nothing.
In the rare moment alone with Alba, I asked, “Are you looking forward to the Solstice?”
Her eyes flicked to my reflection in the mirror between her gray robes. A forced smile crinkled her caramel eyes. “Of course. It’s a grand celebration every year.”
I turned to face her, interrupting her task. “Alba. Has something changed between us?”
She set the brush on the vanity and crouched to my level. “My lady, I am truly so sorry for what happened. One second you were dancing and the next?—”
I patted the back of her hand. “Please—shh—no. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was terrifying, but everything is fine now.”
Her veil bristled as she exhaled. “I’m so relieved. I couldn’t have lived with myself if something had happened to you. And I would have understood if you were upset with me. It was my idea to go to Last Light.”
I stood and embraced her. “I’m not mad. Not in the slightest.”
Alba’s arms wrapped around me. It was exactly what I’d needed at that moment. A friend.
She finished detangling my hair and once it was woven into a manageable braid, I insisted she sit to have tea with me.
“Take off your veil, it’s just us.”
“I’ll admit,” she said, golden hair tumbling from beneath the removed fabric. “It can get stuffy. Especially in summer.”
Summer in the Hive. With long days and short nights, I wondered how life differed during the other seasons, and if I would be able to choose a path that would never allow me to bask in the sun’s glow ever again.
Those days were a ways off. The long evenings of winter were tipping the scales in favor of the vampires who thrived in the nights. In our youth, we were always warned about staying out after dark with tales of vampires who would nab defiant children.
I believed the stories then because I didn’t know better. Now, I believed them, but it wasn’t the Southern Hive vampires who I thought would be the culprits of kidnapping.
I couldn’t sit by and let the Northern Hive continue their way of life. It had to be stopped. The weight of responsibility, knowing how many lives would be ruined or lost if Eryx rose to power, far exceeded the weight of conflict I hoarded about Rhazien.
“Alba, we’re friends, right?” I chewed on my cheek.
“Yes, Reyva,” she said softly, laying her hand atop mine. “I’d say we are.”
A soft smile spread across my cheeks in relief. I needed a friend. “I’m struggling. And afraid of so much right now. I’m stuck and confused and I just need to talk it out with someone.”
The choice between the two paths was simple. One was dark and ominous. It had hungry, twisting vines reaching for flesh in the pitch darkness. The other wasn’t just clear. It was well-lit, well-maintained, with a throne at the end of it.
Who wouldn’t choose the path that was not only less dangerous but also created the most good for the most people?
“You can talk to me.” She patted my hand. “I’m all ears and can be tight-lipped.” She mimicked sealing her mouth and throwing away a key. The moment of levity made me realize it had been days since I’d laughed.
“I’m unsure,” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “About being bound to Rhazien. The permanence is…overwhelming.”
Her eyes widened in realization. “Are you—” she weighed her words carefully “—thinking of rejecting the offer?”
“It’s just…all happening so fast. Why couldn’t we wait? Even until next year?” There. I’d said it. Heat pricked the corners of my eyes.
She studied me before saying, “He’d asked me to encourage you.”
“Who? Rhazien?” I dabbed at the tears before they had a chance to fall.
