Dinner With a Vampire (The Dark Heroine #1)(97)
Author: Abigail Gibbs

For the girl, born to impassion the nine.’

Her last words were spoken with a severity and urgency there hadn’t been before and she gave a small gasp, as though surprised at herself. Fallon didn’t question her behaviour, but lay there patiently, his eyes roaming across the dark sky, as though counting the stars. With her gasp came silence, the fire the only one to speak as the wind raced through its mouth, sighing through pursed lips as the air escaped and hurried on, zipping between the trees and leaving only a whistle behind.

I nestled further into the tree and stared up too, wondering whether, perhaps, with its strange, airy, even earthy language that the stars were more familiar than the first dimension and its even stranger inhabitants, the Sage.

Fallon sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. ‘That verse is a true declaration of war.’

‘But this is peacetime?’ I questioned, confused.

‘No, Miss Lee,’ Fallon cooed again. ‘If this were peacetime, you would not be sitting here, a prisoner of politics, faced with a decision you hardly dared to consider until recently.’

My eyes lowered to the ground.

‘If this were peacetime, no child, whether a descendent of magic or not, would starve.’

My hands clenched together.

‘We have not been at peace for millennia. I highly doubt we ever have and things are now coming to a head. You just can’t see it yet, Miss Lee.’

Autumn’s eyes lowered to the ground.

‘And you’re hoping that the Heroines will sort it all out?’ I snorted. ‘Good luck with that!’ Chuckling, I leaned back against the trunk of the tree. A quickly stifled laugh came from Kaspar beside me, who sobered as soon as Fallon disapprovingly looked his way.

‘Was that some sort of backhanded insult, Miss Lee?’

I shook my head innocently but rather exaggeratingly winked at Kaspar who resorted to biting his bottom lip with his fangs to mute his laughter.

‘I don’t see this as a laughing matter.’

‘I-it’s not,’ I choked, trying to subdue my giggling. And it wasn’t funny, I was just glad to see Kaspar smiling and laughing again. ‘But seriously, if I know anything about people with power, they’d rather die than accept change.’

Suddenly, Autumn stood up and muttered something that sounded like ‘tired’ to Fallon who replied in their native language. She shook her head and began to walk away but in one fluid movement he had stood up and grabbed her hand, stopping her mid-step.

Immediately, I stopped laughing.

Fallon called after her and she stopped, her back to us. ‘You forget yourself, Autumn. You are in the presence of royalty, remember.’

Her shoulders rose gradually and fell as though she was sighing, before she slowly turned and in a show of manners or mockery, I wasn’t sure which, bowed to the ground in a full curtsy.

‘Your Highnesses. Lords. Sirs.’ Her eyes glided across each person until they came to me. ‘Madam.’

Her gaze turned to Fallon, reproachful, and lingered there for a moment like she was searching for his approval. But she didn’t wait for it because she sprang back up, her hair flung from about her neck to her back and in one leap; she had disappeared into the thick canopy of leaves.

There was stunned silence at her departure. An acid-y, sickly feeling settled in the back of my throat. I had only met this girl a few hours before, but I felt as though I had insulted a close friend; the jealousy I had felt when Kaspar had shown her kindness earlier seemed trivial; my thoughtlessness childish.

Fallon stared into the forest and slowly turned back to Kaspar, a rueful look on his face. Niceties were exchanged as he apologized profusely for her behaviour – ‘So inappropriate’ – before he turned into the darkness after her with the assurance the vampires would keep watch for the night.

The last thing I saw before sleep enveloped me sometime later was Fallon’s swirling scars through the many lashing, lusty tongues of the fire as he returned and a hand – Kaspar’s hand – creeping closer to mine, palm facing the stars.

FIFTY-FIVE

Kaspar

The hands of my watch moved achingly slowly as the night wore on, tiresome and troubled. Below me, Violet’s soft breathing was the complete opposite: calm and even but still agitating.

I had kept my hand near hers for the first half an hour or so, but was forced to move it as she rolled over in her sleep and moved dangerously close. We were many miles from my father but he would know. And even if he didn’t, I couldn’t touch her. The King was right.

My responsibility was not to Violet. It was to another. It had always been to another. I may not have known about it, but it was my duty. It was Prophecy.

Here Violet was, prepared to sacrifice her humanity for me and what did I have to give her in return?

I was a fool for letting her get this close. A fool for not stopping and realizing what was happening. A fool for not realizing what I felt for her until we were apart for two weeks. It’s crazy, it’s wrong and it’s going to hurt her.

Yet she brought you back, Kaspar. She brought back the ‘you’ your mother knew, my voice reasoned.

And what me was that?

It did not answer.

I looked down at Violet’s frail frame and felt a pang of guilt. I had wronged her and worst of all I couldn’t bring myself to tell her why. I knew I would never work up the courage either and that she would find out the hard way: as fate played out.

It was so close now. So real. Athenea had their Heroine, whoever she was, wherever she was, and the second would follow.

Sighing, I pulled a crumpled, roughly folded piece of paper from my pocket and opened it, thumbing the darker parts of the page where tears had fallen. Mother’s letter. One of a pair.

Dear sweet Beryl,

I didn’t have to read on to know what it said. I had studied it so many times now that tiny tears had appeared along the folds where I had repeatedly folded and unfolded it. It was the other letter I was interested in, which I extracted from the crumpled mass and flattened out on my bended knee.

‘My dear beloved son, Kaspar,

A warning, sweet child: I leave for Romania in a week and I will not leave without entrusting what I know to you. But I would advise that you don’t read on until you must – if you are at peace, my son, do not turn the page. I know you are wise and true enough to heed my words.’

I had been in possession of that letter since the day she died; the first time I ever turned that page was when father had given me her letter to Beryl – one we all treasured.