He squeezed it softly and I squeezed back. A silent exchange, a peace offering.
I didn’t know if I could love him. But a small part of me understood his position, his predicament. We found ourselves trapped by duty in something neither of us wanted.
At midnight breakfast, we were joined by Orla, the priestess who would oversee the Solstice Offering. Orla was a descendant of Aveen, the rarest bloodline of the four original vampire sisters. Priestesses had the power to conduct the shadow binding but also weave wards against the shades.
I was fascinated by her story. That she was made from Aveen before the sisters went to sleep. How she could call on her magic. On the other side of Solstice, I wanted to make a point to spend more time with her.
She was nearly done explaining the details of the ceremony when Dommik entered the dining area.
I froze, like a doe spotting a predator in a thicket.
From the head of the table, Rhazien cleared his throat. “Lord Thorne, please sit.”
Dommik moved slowly to the chair next to Orla.
“We were just discussing the ceremony. Please run us through your plans for security.”
Dommik recited details flawlessly about guard placement, rotation timing, duplicity in posts and why. Orla followed suit, ensuring her apprentice weavers were in place to guard the shades in their crypt.
When she finished, Rhazien nodded to each of them and rubbed his beard. “Very good.”
Then, the regent slapped his hand on his knees and said, “Lady Orla, let's go over this just one more time in the ballroom. I want to visualize it.”
Rhazien moved to Orla’s side, offering his arm to the priestess. I watched, dumbfounded, as they strode together to the dining hall exit. But before they left, Rhazien turned and said, “Three minutes. That’s all this will take.”
That’s all you’ll have,is what he meant.
The door shut and I launched a fork at Dommik. “I. Am.Furious.With. You. Why would you bring my family here?!”
“I’m glad,” Dommik declared after successfully evading the cutlery.
I scoffed, reaching for another piece of silverware. “You’re glad?”
“Yes,” he assured me. “It’s easier this way. If you hate me.”
I huffed, slamming the knife in my hand back on the table.
“I don’t hate you,” I said, my head hanging. Somehow, despite everything he’d done, everything he’d been an accomplice to, I didn’t hate him.
“But you don’t love me.” Dommik’s curiosity made his already angular features more pointed.
My hesitation was answer enough. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to love Dommik. I couldn’t love Dommik. It was impossible.
“Rhazien is moving forward with banishment. I’ll be sent East, but rather than have an assigned post, I’ll be imprisoned," Dommik explained in a low tone.
My heart sank. “There’s a prison to the East?”
“Sort of.” He shrugged, not answering my question.
“How long?”
“One hundred years, minimum.”
I knew time was different for vampires, but one hundred years seemed excessive. But I supposed it beat death or torture.
“I’m sorry.” Tears began to well, softening Dommik’s features. My heart was so heavy for him. That he was going to live out this sentence, banished from the comforts of the life he knew, because of me.
“Shh—stop. I’m not.” When I wiped my tears, I saw a small smile lifting his stubble to one side. “I’ll live.”
