Page 150 of You’re So Vein

Hannah considers this for a moment. “Maybe. But wouldn’t that mean I have to stay at court? I don’t like it here. No offence, but the hospitality is somewhat lacking. I’d much rather a shopping mall than a castle of creepy monster statues.”

“Fair. This place could definitely do with a decor update.” Dante grins. “I wouldn’t make you stay here. I actually thought I’d come and live in Argleton for a while. The village and its strange and delightful inhabitants have endeared themselves to me.” Dante turns to Komal. “Hopefully, we might even see the first vampire–human wedding. I’d love for you to save a dance for me.”

“Okay.”

Dante leans towards Komal, opening his hands a little, as if going in for an embrace. He catches my eye and must see the fury there, because he stands quickly and pretends to be smoothing out the cuffs of his suit. “I look forward to it.”

Komal looks at me. “Should we give them some time alone?”

No.

I sigh. “Fine. But remember—”

“If I hurt her, you will turn my ribcage into a lovely carry basket for Sunita’s rambunctious canine,” Dante says. “I got it.”

“You need some time alone, too,” Hannah says brightly. “It will give you time to figure out what to do.”

“What to do about what?” I ask.

“About the fact that you’re rivals who spent the night in a helicopter huddled together for warmth,” Hannah says solemnly. “You were kissing. I can tell because your ears are red.”

“We were not kissing!” I touch my ears, and they do feel a tad warm. Komal snorts with laughter. Hannah beams.

“Don’t look at me.” Komal laughs. “I’m not going to lie to a child.”

I let out a sigh. “Hannah, stop. I know you wish things could end in a happily-ever-after, but this is a complicated situation. Right now, Komal and I are more concerned with you and the fallout of Kael’s murder—”

Hannah grins. “Is that adult for ‘we’re being ridiculous but also kissing a lot’?”

“Hannah!”

I hate stepping over the threshold and leaving Hannah with that vampire, but Komal’s reassuring half-smile – and the fact that I’m alone in the hallway with her – makes me feel a little better.

“He did well.” Komal squeezes my shoulder, her touch like fire. “And so did you.”

“I want to kill him.”

“I know, but you didn’t, which is a good sign. He is family, after all.”

Family. I don’t like using that word for Dante, but I guess it’s true. The love between me and Dante has soured, but perhaps, if he can keep his promises to Hannah, we can be civil.

We can be family.

Komal and I fall in step beside each other. She gazes around at the towering statues and the strange symbols on the walls, worrying her lip with her teeth. Seeing court through her eyes, I understand that it’s an unsettling place. It’s always just been a home to me.

At least, it was home. But it doesn’t feel that way anymore. Cleaning my sires’ blood from between the stones and fleeing in the night with a baby I was supposed to kill can really ruin the vibes of a place.

But there is still one site I’d like to see again.

“Would you walk in my mother’s garden with me?” I ask.

Komal slides her tiny hand around my arm, and I lead her through winding hallways and open ritual spaces to a small wooden door. I press my hand to it, expecting nothing to happen, for it to be locked to me now, but it swings open in greeting, as though my mother had only left it behind yesterday.

The smell hits first – a wall of scent like a thousand bouquets thrown by a thousand brides all whacking you in the face at the same time. My mother designed the garden to appeal to the heightened senses of Upyr – as a sanctuary of light and colour and scent and texture and beauty within our stone fortress. She understands in a way so few do that when one lives forever, the beauty of nature is one of few things that can still stir the heart.

Although now her garden lies before me, unkempt, untended, neglected without her expert hand. My vines itch with frustration as they sense the distress of their fellow plants, crowded together in their beds, fighting with their neighbours for light and nourishment. The stone path is barely visible beneath the weight of branches and shoots and thick vines, as nature reclaims what had once been so lovingly tended.

I wave my hand, my fingers weaving magic in the air, speaking the languages of plants. I uncoil knotted stems, pull back encroaching weeds and unfurl long closed petals. Beside me, Komal gasps as the mass retreats, revealing the path at last.