Chapter Thirty-Two
In the back of the car, Claude fusses over my bruises, though he’s the one with a still-broken hand.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says, pain in his eyes, like the wounds hurt him more than they hurt me.
He brushes his lips over the circle of bruises on my wrist, so gentle I don’t even feel it.
“It seemed almost like you wanted it to happen,” I rasp. He was so ready to duel. Eager for it, almost.
Claude shakes his head. “I…” He grimaces. “If only I could have just painted, maybe it could have been avoided. But… I was ready for a duel, it’s true,” he admits. “Yet not for you to be harmed. Never that. It could’ve gone so much more badly, Nora.”
“I’m a valentine. I’m protected by the contract.” I touch his cheek. “So I wanted to protect you. But…” My lower lip wobbles as I think, again, of how badly this all backfired. “I didn’t think you’d challenge him like this, Claude. My intent was to stop you from getting hurt. I didn’t want… this.”
He smiles, brushing away my tears with the thumb of his good hand. “It’s been a long time coming, mon chou. You can’t take responsibility.” His expression sobers. “And he hurt you. I can’t forgive that.” A gentle palm cups my cheek. “Tell me… has he done anything like that before?”
With his hand caressing me, I can’t turn away even if I wanted to. “Once,” I admit. “When you weren’t home, he hit me.”
Claude’s expression darkens into something dangerous. “You should’ve told me.”
I study his face. “He’s hurt you like that before, too,” I say, not even bothering to make it a question. His gaze slides away from mine, and I sigh. “You should’ve told me.”
“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” he says. “I didn’t want to burden you.”
His hand slides from my cheek, but I reach to grasp it, twining our fingers.
“I think we both need to stop thinking of ourselves that way,” I say. “We can both rely on each other without being burdens.”
We sit with that in silence for a moment, but as seconds tick by, I realize how precious they are. How little time we have.
“Claude, tell me…” I hesitate, unable to fully form the question. “He’s your sire. Is it possible for you to beat him?” Tonight I saw him defy Ambrose’s commands, but it’s obvious how difficult it was. In a duel, there will be no time for that. A second’s hesitation could mean death.
“Would I have challenged him if it weren’t?”
“To save me? Yes.” I don’t understand his riddles or his smiles. How can he take this so lightly? Is this some sort of self-sacrifice?
“Mm,” he agrees. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.” He leans in, presses his forehead to mine. “Will you kiss me? For luck?”
“But the contract…”
“Fuck the contract,” he says, still smiling. “Soon enough it won’t matter.”
My stomach twists as I study him. That gleam in his eye, is it confidence or a manic sort of resignation to whatever’s going to happen? It scares me, and so do his words. “Then you can kiss me after you’ve won.”
“As cruel to me as ever, I see.”
My smile is wobbly. “I can offer you more than luck, anyway.” I slide into his lap and brush my hair from my neck. “Take my strength.”
His nose brushes along my jaw as he kisses my bruised neck, ever so gently. “Not here,” he murmurs. “You’re hurt.”
“I don’t care. I want you to.”
He sighs against my skin, but pulls away, reaching instead for my wrist. “I’ll bite you there after I’ve won,” he says, looking up at me, before sinking his fangs into my skin. He’s only echoing my words from earlier, but still, it makes my stomach twist. We both know there may not be an after.
He drinks until his broken fingers straighten.
I spend the rest of the ride in his arms, my face pressed into his shoulder, and wish I could stay here forever.
Just earlier today, I thought the worst possible thing would be to walk away from Claude at the end of this year…
but now I know there are worse things that can happen.
When the car comes to a stop, it’s painful to extricate myself from his embrace. He smooths down the front of his shirt before he steps out, and turns back to offer his hand, helping me from the car.
His fingers linger on mine, his thumb rubbing slow circles against my knuckles. “I have to go in alone,” he tells me. “They won’t allow a human in the room when they’re ironing out the official details. I’m sorry.”
I swallow and force myself to nod. There’s no use in wailing and carrying on; I’m sure he’d have me at his side, if there was a way to. “Will I be able to see you before the duel begins?”
He smiles sadly, shakes his head.
“Oh.” A hot rush of tears threatens to spill over all of a sudden, but I take a deep breath and blink them away. I won’t cry in front of him. I won’t do anything that might make this any harder than it already is. “Then… I’ll see you after.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. Once, twice. “You will,” he says, and lets me go, and leaves me.
I force myself to breathe as I look around.
I’m at the bottom of a set of great stone stairs, leading up to an ancient-looking mansion.
It’s all red brick and dark gable roofs, spires foreboding against the night sky, unnervingly quiet despite the violence that I know is about to occur within its walls.
I don’t know what to do or where to go. Surely I’ll be allowed inside to watch, at least. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I can’t abandon Claude among his enemies.
Still, the thought of standing in the crowd alone, watching it unfold, makes another wave of tears threaten to overwhelm me.
Claude said he wanted the Vulpe Court as witnesses, and I’ve seen how they treat him.
Will I be the only one here not rooting for his death?
Then footsteps approach. “Nora.”
I gasp, and the tears finally spill over as I turn toward the familiar voice. “Benjamin.” I throw my arms around his neck. “You came.”
“Of course I did.” He’s stiff in my embrace, clearly unused to such physical affection. But he wraps one arm around me and pats me on the back with the other, which is surprisingly reassuring. “God, Nora. What happened? Is it true that Ambrose hurt you?”
“Not badly,” I say.
His expression darkens as his gaze falls to the bruises around my neck. “Assaulting a valentine,” he murmurs. “I didn’t think he’d have the gall.”
“I’m more afraid of what he’ll do to Claude.” I’m sick with it, now that we’re here. My heart is pounding so hard, I’m dizzy. “Is it possible for Claude to win?”
“I…” Benjamin’s grip on me loosens, and I slip free, trying and failing to catch his eye. “I really don’t know, Nora. I’m not sure why he demanded the old right instead of letting Vulpe handle the transgression against you. I wish I could offer more hopeful news, but…”
Anxiety is a jagged thing in my chest, digging shards into my insides. “I don’t understand why he would do this either,” I say. “Claude isn’t a fighter.”
“He wasn’t.”
I start at the half-familiar voice, and Benjamin and I both turn to see a vampire approaching. Dark hair, dark eyes, fine black clothing.
I curtsy after a startled pause. “Lord Sebastian?” It comes out a question. I glance at Benjamin, but he seems surprised, too, though he covers it with a bow.
“Miss Nora.” Sebastian inclines his head. “Amelia sends her support. She wanted to come too, but I abhor the thought of her witnessing this kind of violence.”
“I’m surprised that was enough to dissuade her,” Benjamin says as he straightens.
Sebastian’s lips quirk. “It wasn’t. But I told her I would have an easier time keeping an eye on Nora if I didn’t also have to worry about her safety.”
“That makes more sense.”
“But…” I burst out, looking between the two. “Sorry. I’m glad you’re here, but why are you? And how did you know to come?”
“Claude didn’t tell you?” Sebastian asks, but nods himself a moment later as if answering his own question. “No, I suppose he wouldn’t have wanted you to worry.”
“Tell me what?” He’s even worse than Claude. Are all vampires this unforthcoming?
“Claude has been visiting me quite frequently,” Sebastian says. “To train.”
“Ah,” Benjamin says. They share a knowing look.
It takes me a moment longer. To train for…
? But then I look at the building ahead of us, and remember what’s to come, and I understand.
He’s been training for this. He knew this fight with Ambrose was coming, sooner or later.
Over this last week he tried to paint again, to see if there was another way, but… he was prepared for this outcome.
I wish he had told me. I wish I had kissed him in the car. I am so full of wishes and hope and fear that my head is spinning and my knees feel weak.
Benjamin touches my shoulder, bringing me back to this moment.
“Lord Sebastian was a general in the last vampire war. He is a legend among our kind,” he tells me, while Sebastian looks away, clearly discomfited by the praise. “Claude could not have asked for better tutelage in dueling.”
“Does that mean he can win?” I ask. “Even against his sire?”
They exchange a look. Neither seems eager to answer me.
“How strong is the bond?” Benjamin asks me.
“It is… a difficult thing, to defy that connection. There is a natural attachment, an instinct to please. It’s not just a matter of strength, but whether or not Claude can bring himself to finish it.
” He pauses, expression grim. “And… if Ambrose were to issue a command…”
“I… I saw Claude defy him tonight. But…” I shake my head. “Surely Ambrose can’t be allowed to command him in a duel, can he?”
“A vampire is allowed to do whatever they see fit with their fledgling,” Benjamin says, shaking his head. “A duel is no exception. It’s archaic, and many will see it as distasteful, but it’s law.”
“But that’s not fair,” I say. It makes me so angry, I can hardly breathe.