Chapter 16
Sirus’s voice sounded distant and hollow through the ringing that was growing louder in her ears. Gwen had known something was wrong the moment she’d woken up and found him dressed and hovering at the edge of the bed rather than naked and in it beside her.
The dryad woman had come. Iathana. She was here. It was time to leave.
Gwen wasn’t sure if she was having a panic attack or about to be sick. Sirus had stopped talking, she realized. He stood still at the edge of the bed, looking down at her as she clutched the blanket to her still naked body.
“So that’s it?” she breathed, slowly shifting to the other side of the bed, putting her back to him.
“She will not enter Volkov. She’s asked that I bring you to her.”
Gwen nodded, too numb to do much else. He was sending her away. Just like that.
The reality set on her slowly. How stupid she’d been. She’d known better than to fall in love with him, and she’d gone and done it anyway. Had even hoped he might feel the same about her.
He didn’t want her to stay. Maybe he cared about her and they’d shared something special, but it didn’t mean he loved her. It didn’t mean he wanted her here.
So stupid!
Anger blended with a heavy dose of self-pity replaced Gwen’s despair, spreading through her like wildfire. She clenched her hands into tight fists that made her knuckles crack. Her eyes were coated in a haze of blue speckles.
“You can go,” she told him. Her voice was so cold and empty, it didn’t even sound like her. “I need to get dressed.”
She didn’t hear him budge. “I didn’t expect her to come this soon,” he told her, his tone far softer than her own.
Gwen was glad the dryad had come before she’d made a fool of herself and confessed her love to a man who clearly couldn’t reciprocate it. “It’s fine. We knew she would eventually. It’s good, isn’t it? It’s what you’ve wanted since the beginning. It’s where I’ll be safest, right?” She wrapped the blanket tight around her and went to the wardrobe to dress.
“You will be safe there, yes,” he confirmed.
She wanted to scream.
“So it works out for everyone, then,” she replied, her voice still flat and hollow. She went about dressing. “I’ll be safe, Levian can keep helping me figure out my magicks, and you can go back to your quiet life like none of this ever happened.”
“Gwendolyn.” Her name was racked on his tongue.
She slid her sweater over her head and turned to face him. His expression was mostly stoic, but she’d learn to read him well enough. He was struggling.
“It’s fine,” she said again. If there was one thing Gwen couldn’t bear right now, it was Sirus breaking up with her. Or, worse, telling her it had been fantastic, but he was a vampire and no good for her, blah, blah, blah. No matter what, she was going to end up heartbroken, but at least she could hold on to what few shreds of dignity she had left.
“We knew this was never going to last,” she blurted, sitting to put on her boots. “You being what you are.” Her being mortal. “Besides, Levian makes the Veil sound like a freaking paradise.”
Silence fell. It took Gwen all of a few minutes to gather up her things and shove them into a bag. She barely paid attention to what all she was grabbing in her blind rage.
As she shuffled around, he didn’t once try to stop her. Not once did he say he wanted her to stay. Or that he would miss her. Or that what they’d shared had meant something to him. Or anything. He was silent.
The more she moved, the more her raw emotions threatened to spill out. Gwen knew Sirus felt something for her in that icy, cavernous heart of his, but it didn’t mean he loved her. All this time, he’d been warning her away. All this time, she’d been ignoring him. What an idiot she’d been.
“Take me to her,” she bit out once she was done. “The sooner I’m out of here, the better.” Liar.
Sirus looked over at her. Silent. Stoic.
Gwen didn’t wait for him to take the lead. She shot out the door, unable to stand being near him any longer. Afraid that if she stayed, she would fall to pieces or say something utterly stupid. Like beg him to let her stay.
She just needed to keep herself together, at least long enough to get out of this damned castle. After that—what did it even matter after that?
It wasn’t until a gust of sharp, frozen wind caught her lungs that Gwen realized she’d already made it outside. She just had to keep her feet moving. That’s all. The moon was bright overhead and the forest would guide her. All she had to do was follow it.
Sirus lingered several feet behind her, his crunching footsteps barely managing to register in her pounding ears. To Gwen’s frustration, her fury began to lose a little of its heat with each step, and the ache in her chest grew unbearable. Was he going to say nothing? Was she going to say nothing?
“I am sorry, Gwendolyn,” he said at last. It was like an arrow through her heart, the hint of pain in his voice.
She stopped, panting in lungfuls of air, the cold wind stinging her lungs. “I don’t want your apology, Sirus,” she clipped, not turning back to look at him.
In true Sirus fashion, he didn’t reply.
She huffed a despondent laugh and sniffled. “That night you came to my apartment—I could feel you there behind me. I was terrified, but I didn’t know why,” she recalled, the memory of that night cascading through her. “It was like deep down I knew the thing waiting for me in the darkness would change—everything.”
Frigid tears ran down her cheeks. She didn’t know what to do. There was so much she wanted to tell him. So much she was afraid to say. It hit her suddenly that this might be the last time she ever saw him, and her heart simply shattered.
The thing in the darkness had changed everything. He’d changed her.
Sirus had made her feel capable. Strong. Beautiful. Powerful. She’d never thought it possible. She took in a steadying breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. She was all of those things, with him or without him, she knew now. She’d just hoped it could be with him.
Gwen knew she couldn’t just walk away. Not without saying goodbye. She turned and sucked in a breath when she found him standing right in front of her. His eyes were black, just like they’d been that night of the mirrors. She froze under his piercing dark gaze.
“You deserve happiness, Gwendolyn,” he told her. He reached up and cupped her cheek with his hand, and she stuttered a breath.
It was just like in her dream. His warmth. That touch.
Sirus ran his thumb over her cheek. “I am not?—”
“Don’t,” she cut him off, trying to hold back her tears. Gwen reached up to cover his hand with hers. Deep down, she knew she was fighting a losing battle. She had been from the start.
Maybe it was stupid and naive that she’d fallen for a vampire, but she had. Their time together in the castle had been the happiest time of her life, even if it had been short. She felt at home here. Like part of a family. With Sirus, she’d felt a connection she’d never felt with anyone. She loved him. And dammit, she wouldn’t regret it. Not ever. Not even if this was how it had to end.
His eyes were still black and ominous. Sirus dropped his hand, and she felt the stark chill of the air replace the warmth of his touch. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him. How much she wanted to stay. But she knew that would only make it worse. It would only make this goodbye that much harder.
“Goodbye, Sirus,” she breathed, then with every ounce of strength she had left, she tore herself away. “Tell Rath and the others I’ll miss them,” she stammered. “And that I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye.” As she backed away from him his eyes shifted back to their frosty blue. With one final sniffle, Gwen turned and stalked further into the forest, leaving him behind, driven by the need to protect what tethers of her heart remained intact.
Gwen soon broke through the dense trees and came to a small clearing. Iathana sat on the edge of a fallen tree, her magick palpable as it slipped through the air, enveloping Gwen like a warm bath. The dryad’s golden eyes fell on her the moment she came into view, and a soft smile spread over her lips. She reached up to push back the hood of her gray cloak, revealing her shaved head and pointed fae ears covered in gold and silver earrings. Her dark brown skin seemed to shimmer in the faint light of the moon.
“Gwendolyn,” she said in a deep, honeyed voice that made Gwen feel a rush of warmth. Iathana rose from her perch, her movements even more ethereal than Levian’s. Now that Gwen had met a full fae, she understood what everyone had been talking about. The dryad seemed both of the earth in the most primal sense and not of this world at all. She was remarkable.
Iathana’s warm smile did not waver as she came to stand across from Gwen. “You wish to come to the Veil, child?” she asked.
Her heart sank. No. Gwen didn’t want to go. But what choice did she have?
She swallowed a lump of air as her nerves skittered with awareness and fear. Sirus’s dark, shadowy presence slipped between Iathana’s warm, magickal glow behind her.
“It’s a sacred place,” the dryad told her. “Only if you truly wish it will I allow it.” Those golden eyes pierced through to the very essence of her being. Gwen knew she shouldn’t lie, but she also knew she couldn’t stay.
“Yes.”
The dryad nodded and reached out her hands. Gwen took them hesitantly. Through that touch, she could better feel the forest around them. The hum of the air. The fall of the snow. A strange sensation fell over her, a calm. It was as if everything were falling into place and happening as it should.
Despite herself, Gwen glanced back. Sirus stood in the shadows beyond the clearing, concealed like he’d been that first night they’d met. Their eyes locked and she took in a sharp breath brimming with emotions.
“Curious,” Iathana whispered, then they were gone.
In a blink, they had vanished. Only a swirl of snow and a ripple of magick were left behind.
Gwendolyn was gone. It was done.
As a vampire, Sirus had found his lack of emotion useful. His world had been nothing but gray, and he’d relished the simplicity of it. With Gwendolyn, he’d tasted color. Life. Emotions he hadn’t thought himself capable of. She’d been like a subtle euphoria taking over his senses. How much of her vibrance had seeped into him, he’d not fully recognized. Until she was gone.
The forest stirred, whipping the snow around him. Its magicks brought him no comfort. Sirus didn’t draw in the darkness nor fill his heart with ice. Instead, he looked into the haze. The same mist he’d wandered the night Marcus had come. A twist of pain spread in his chest, a hurt no physical weapon could ever create. It was a void.
Sirus had gone to Gwendolyn intending to ask if she would stay. But the more she’d spoken, the more he realized he couldn’t. No matter his feelings for her, Gwendolyn would be safest in the Veil. Protected from everyone. Including him.
We knew this was never going to last. You being what you are.
Her words rang in his head. He had warned her away so many times. Had tried to tell her he was not a creature to be cared for. Gwendolyn had cared for him, but he knew it had been too much to assume she could ever love him.
Even if he had loved her.
His conviction that he had done his duty in protecting her did not fill the gaping void left within him.
Gwendolyn was gone. He would never see her again. The pain sharpened like a D?kk blade plunged into his heart.
Barith’s snarls of frustration filled the night. A more violent swirl of wind and a shudder of magick preceded the party’s arrival in the near distance.
“To hell with both of you,” the dragon snapped, stomping directly in Sirus’s direction.
He didn’t try to slip out of their path.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Levian bellowed after him.
When Barith came crashing into the clearing, he stopped short at the sight of Sirus. “Fuck,” he spat, clearly startled. The dragon eyed him warily. “You look like shite.”
Levian peeked around Barith’s hulking form a second later. Her eyes narrowed on Sirus, then landed on the stump where Iathana had been sitting before. A small patch of vibrant green moss had grown where she’d sat, now nearly covered in snow.
“Iathana was here,” she guessed with a hint of unease.
Niah stepped into the clearing and met Sirus’s eye. “She’s gone?”
Sirus confirmed with a tilt of his head.
The dragon looked between brother and sister. “Iathana already came and left?”
Levian let out a deep sigh and crossed her arms over her chest. “She meant Gwen. But yes, Iathana was here.”
Barith’s face went slack.
Sirus didn’t wish to recount the whole of it, so he merely said, “Iathana took her to the Veil.”
A silence fell as the weight of it settled in. It was broken when Barith bit out a vicious string of curses. “That wood-chattering imp!” he snarled. “She would come while we’re gone!” He cursed a few lines more. “She probably knew we were at the fucking Prison and planned it just to avoid us.”
Levian rubbed her temple with the tips of her fingers. “Iathana has always done as she pleases when she pleases. I doubt she cared whether you or any of us were here or not. However, it is a touch grating. It would’ve been nice to speak with her. How did it go?”
“Fine,” Sirus told her. He didn’t wish to discuss it beyond that.
There was a touch of something sad in Levian’s expression before she looked away with a huff. “I suppose it was never going to be easy,” she observed. “But it’s good Gwen is safe.”
“Fuck all,” Barith hissed. “At least you can see Gwen in the Veil. I’ll probably never see her again!” Smoke and tiny flecks of embers fell from his mouth and nostrils.
Niah met Sirus’s eye with an unspoken warning. Not that it’d been needed. It was beyond obvious the dragon wasn’t himself. His time at The Prison had clearly put him on edge.
“Calm down,” Levian snapped. “She’s not imprisoned. I know this isn’t the farewell you expected, but it is what we wanted. Isn’t it? To make sure she was safely tucked away until this whole mess with the Nestra could be sorted?”
The dragon ran his hands through his matted hair. His wings suddenly appeared, and he stretched them out, an attempt to relieve his tension. “I know,” he growled. “I know it’s for the best.” He snapped his attention back to Sirus. “Did you at least ask her to come back?” the dragon snarled.
Sirus shifted from somewhat removed to hyperaware all in an instant. Barith wasn’t the only one on edge.
“Barith,” Levian warned, to shut him up.
The dragon threw a wing in her face. “You all told me to keep my mouth shut, and I did—but that was then.”
Levian made a pained face but said nothing. Niah’s expression remained blank.
The dragon stalked up to Sirus, fueled more by adrenaline than sense. “Are you really that big of an asshole, or are you too caught up in your vampire shite to see it?”
In the past, Sirus had been able to handle Barith’s hotheaded outbursts with ease, but at that moment, the dragon was lucky Sirus didn’t have his swords on him.
“Watch yourself, Barith,” Niah warned.
He paid her no mind at all. “How many women have you known who didn’t quake in their knickers at the sight of you, hm? Outside of the tarts who wanted to fuck you out of twisted curiosity.”
Niah pressed herself between them as Sirus’s blood began to run hot. He said nothing. He only glared into the dragon’s fire-laced eyes.
Sirus knew he could push this fight if he wished it. A part of him did. He wanted a battle to distract him from the void Gwendolyn left behind. He wanted to fill it with blood.
“She chose to go,” he said, ice dripping from every word. The dragon cocked a brow. “She will be happy in the Veil.”
He said it to convince himself as much as the others.
Barith stared him down, then snorted. “You might be the best fighter I’ve ever known, but you’re also the biggest eejit,” he grumbled. Then he turned to face Levian. “You need to rest.”
The mage scowled. “I’m fine. You’re the one who needs to stop stirring shit up.”
“Fine,” the dragon seethed. At that, he took off into the sky.
Levian watched Barith until he disappeared into the clouds. “He’s just pissed he didn’t get to say goodbye,” she said, gathering one of her unruly braids and shoving it back beneath her scarf. “And from being stuck in The Prison. Flying will calm him down.”
She sat heavily on the edge of the log where Iathana had perched herself. “Are you sure you’re alright, Sirus?” she asked.
The question was jarring. No one ever asked him if he was alright. Even after he’d been run through with swords. He was far from alright, but he could tell by the look on the mage’s face that there were other things to discuss. Sirus struggled to care, but he was also eager to distract himself from the gaping hollowness Gwendolyn had left behind. “What happened?” he asked them.
Niah and the mage shared a glance.
“Well, for one, you and the rest of the world were right,” Levian conceded with a great sigh. “My father is a far bigger bastard than I remembered.”