Embrace the Magic (The Blood Rose #2)(17)
Author: Caris Roane

Once again, Vojalie teared up, but she brought her mug to her lips.

“Is it something I said?”

Vojalie shook her head. “I gave birth three months ago, I’m nursing, and you remind me how much I lost when Andrea left. I’m just so overcome. She was very important to me.”

“I can see that she was.”

She felt dizzy suddenly as a new thought surfaced. “How old was my mother when she left Bergisson? The year she died, when I was eighteen, I asked her age, but she laughed and said, ‘twenty-nine’. It was her joke about never wanting to grow old.”

“Part of that statement was true. She would have been two-hundred-and-twenty-nine at that time. If she were alive today, she’d be ten years more.”

Samantha put a hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. There was just so much to take in and with Vojalie’s arrival, everything she’d been hearing had become a very long stream of jolts.

“So she was that old?”

“We’re long-lived.”

“So you are.”

“Samantha, I’m so grateful that Ethan thought to call me. You must have a thousand questions and I want you to know that I’m here for you, whatever you might need from me, anytime, anyplace. For your mother’s sake alone, I would make this offer, but I’d also extend it to anyone in your circumstances, who’s just found out she’s part fae. So, how did you find out? I take it something specific happened.”

Samantha drew in a deep breath and told her everything, from arriving at the prave, of seeing her classmate with Tom-the-Vampire, of the way the other vampires seemed to hover around her, then of Ethan’s dramatic arrival.

“So Tom was there?”

“Yes. He’s in jail for violating one of Ethan’s laws about feeding in public in the human world.”

Vojalie sipped her tea again. “Oh, Tom, yes, he’s a hopeless sort.” Glancing at Samantha over the rim of her mug, she added, “But Ethan’s formidable-looking, isn’t he?”

Samantha’s thoughts shifted sideways as she recalled seeing Ethan for the first time. He’d moved with lethal grace, the stride of an athlete, of a man made for war, heavily muscled, his body toned for battle.

She’d never seen anyone like him before, vampire or human. “He’s very tall,” she said quietly.

“And way too handsome for his own good. Most of the mastyr vampires seem to be blessed in that way, but Ethan’s got that gorgeous smile of his. I swear he radiates sunlight when he’s truly amused.”

“That’s it.” Samantha laughed as she turned to Vojalie. “I’ve seen that expression. I know what you mean. He sort of lights up.”

She then related the events at Club Prave, how Ethan had caught her scent or felt her vibration or something, how he’d looked at her, the way she’d felt about him though she knew him only by reputation, that she’d connected with what he called his personal frequency, that her heart had become sluggish and he’d called her a blood rose.

She told her the rest as well, how Ethan had essentially protected her from Ry, insisting she have her freedom. “He asked me to come with him and I’m sure if I hadn’t heard the things Ry said, I would have stayed behind at my house. But it seemed foolish not to come. Besides, I knew he’d stay outside my house all night if I didn’t. Ry was determined to have me.”

“I can understand why Mastyr Ry might have felt that way, though of course I don’t approve. Personal freedom is very important here in Bergisson just as it is in your world. But the mastyrs truly suffer.” Vojalie then spoke of the blood-starvation that all the mastyrs experienced. “It has something to do with the natural level of power each mastyr carries, including Ry, that it must use up some essential element that the average woman can’t replace. I saw the change in Gerrod immediately, once he began feeding from Abigail, like he’d been taking vitamin shots round the clock.”

Samantha drew in a long, deep breath. “But I didn’t ask for this.”

At that, Vojalie chuckled. “Get in line. Most of the time, I’m content with my lot but there are days I just wish someone else could do what I do.”

“And what do you do?”

“I’m leader of the fae community in all Nine Realms and I sit on the Sidhe Council. Every significant problem relating to our fae-folk comes to me for both judgment and resolution. Some of the problems are simple and relate to an improper balance of spells, potions, and herbal concoctions. Others are much more difficult, like the interpretation of visions that relate to the Invictus. You do know about the Invictus.”

“A little.”

Vojalie sipped again. “Well, that’s a conversation for another time. Ah, here is my husband, Davido, and our newest addition, baby Bernice.” Smiling, she called out, “Davido, come meet Andrea’s daughter, Samantha.”

“Ah, my love, nothing would please me more. Dear, sweet, troubled Andrea.” He drew close, the troll infant slumbering in his arms, a very small bundle against his chest. He wore blue plaid flannel. “How do you do, Samantha of Shreveport. I see you’re admiring my shirt. I must look like an undersized lumberjack.”

“Yes, maybe.” Samantha grinned. There was something in Davido’s expression that put her at ease. He wasn’t a handsome troll, not even a little, though she knew that every realm species had a full range of what was considered handsome or beautiful all the way to homely. But something in the gleam in his eye drew her to him, a certain charisma.

She stood up, and bent her head to get a good look at the baby, just three-months-old.

“Would you like to hold her?”

Samantha drew in a sharp breath and held out her arms. Davido transferred the swaddled infant as though giving her the greatest gift on earth, or in the realm. Maybe he was. Nothing was more precious than new life, all the promise encased in one being, human or otherwise.

She got lost in the joy of holding the child and to their credit, both parents let her be.

*** *** ***

Since it was almost time to head out for patrols, Ethan knew he would do better once he left his house and Samantha behind. But as he walked through the sitting room, he could hear his guests cooing over baby Bernice, presumably from within the conservatory. He could hardly refuse to greet them.

The problem was, he saw faint spots at the edges of his vision. Sweet Goddess, the recent feeding had accomplished little more than to reduce the size and frequency of his stomach cramps.