Page 152 of You’re So Vein

“I’m so happy to hear it. Would you—” Augustin holds out his hand. “I want to explain.”

My heart threatens to ooze out from between my ribs. I’m desperate for him to explain why he still doesn’t believe I’m enough for him and Hannah. But I also don’t want to know. I’m afraid that hating him might undo me.

We sit on a bench looking over Dulcina’s ritual circle. In this garden, I feel like I know Augustin a little better, that he’s given me a tiny piece of his heart.

Which only makes what he did that much more awful.

Augustin stares ahead, worrying his hands in his lap. His little tendrils encircle his wrists, as though trying to protect him. “I didn’t wish to hurt you.”

I snort. “Then you probably shouldn’t have humiliated me in front of the whole village.”

“I hated doing it.” Augustin’s face twists. “When the husker attacked me, I thought that the only way to protect you was to make sure you were far away from me. I was going to take Hannah and leave, but I thought I had to break your heart first, because if I didn’t, you’d hunt us down like the delightful menace you are. And now, we are—”

“I know what we are. You chose Hannah’s safety. You made the right decision. Of course you did. But it doesn’t change the fact that you hurt me.” Too late. The tears fall down my face. “That’s not partnership.”

“I know. I have been in agony over it. I hurt you gravely because deep down, part of me still didn’t trust that you could love me. I wanted to protect Hannah and protect you, and I thought I could only do that alone. But I realised that I’m teaching her that the only way to be safe is to be alone. And that breaks my heart.”

“Mine, too,” I whisper.

Seeing Hannah standing on that altar, alone, her wound dripping blood into that labyrinth, broke something in me. She shouldn’t have to carry that on her own. I know too well what carrying a burden that isn’t yours can do to you.

“I want her to believe that she’s worth of love, and friendship, and all good things, because she is.” Augustin’s voice cracks. “I realise that the only way for me to do that is to heal my own wound. And that begins with an apology to you. But that’s only the beginning. I know that I’ve broken the bond we shared—”

“No,” I say.

“No?”

“No, you haven’t broken us. I’m not that weak, Durant. I don’t fall apart just because a few vampires think I’m corrupt. My people-pleasing days are behind me. And as for you and me – we were forged in the fires of love and village politics. It’ll take more than a little public humiliation to get rid of me.”

My words are light, but my heart pounds in my ears and my chest clenches and my breath stills. As I say them, I look over at him, and my heart is saying, I’m here, I want to try again, but I’m hurt. Be gentle with me.

And he looks back at me, and his eyes are twin flames of golden light, and his heart responds. Me, too.

All around us, red blooms unfurl, their petals bold and bright. But I barely notice. I have my eyes on a strange, wonderful, impossible man as he stares down at Irene’s note in his hands.

Something in his posture makes me suddenly very desperate to see what that note says.

I whip it from his fingers and slide my finger under the seal. He grabs for it but I hold it out of reach and read it out loud:

Augustin,

I know you hate me, and I don’t much care. You must understand why I took Hannah to your court. She is unique among our kind. She needs to be studied, and if she has Dusk Court blood then they are best suited to study her.

However, if we might set aside the problem of your Dhampir, your human has impressed me greatly these past weeks. She has shown bravery, intelligence, devotion, and a certain chaotic bloodthirstiness that appeals to my baser nature. As a member of the Conclave, I have the ability to grant certain rights to vampires outside of my court. And so it is with honour that I grant you permission to give her the Kiss, as well as an invitation to align with the Midnight Court, should she so wish.

Yours,

Irene

For once, I have no words.

Augustin whips the paper from my frozen hand. “That’s not what it says.”

But when he skims it, his face twists. He looks back at me, eyes like two bonfires, all crackling and warm. He clears his throat.

“Is this what you—”

“Yes.”