17. Sariel
SARIEL
E lowen remains curled against my side for the remainder of our time together today, refusing to sit and relax whilst I’m forced to stand. My body aches at having to stand in the same position for hours on end, but Elowen kisses my tense brow and kneads my sore muscles as we gradually come to know one another and our histories. Outside of being torn away from my eldest brother as our world was flayed open by a goddess with unfathomable power—Elowen has made what should be the worst experience of my life into the best experience of my life. And although I can’t yet see how exactly, we are going to liberate ourselves from Forsythe, I know that we soon will.
I can feel it without a shadow of a doubt. I can feel it on the horizon, like a reassurance so present it’s as if my future has extended his hand to pull me forward.
Elowen studies me with her dark, beguiling eyes as our conversation lulls. She’s told me about her mother and how Forsythe tried to save her. And failed.
Something seems strange about the story and how she came under Forsythe’s care. Why was her mother placed in what she called an asylum in the first place? And how did Forsythe become her employer? I feel like it’s not quite my place to point any of that out. Yet.
Still, the knowingness sits in the pit of my stomach like a fucking boulder that I can’t move.
“What about your family? I’ve told you everything there is to be said about mine.”
Anxiety creeps in with its piercing talons, and through sheer force of guilt, I decide to seize this window of opportunity. Her brows knit together with concern, as if she herself can feel it. I try to smile in spite of my fear, but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“My family is… complicated.”
Her tongue gives an anxious sweep over her lips. “Complicated how?”
Heaving a sigh, I decide there’s no way to tiptoe around it. “My mother and father are the Archdaemons of my realm.”
“Archdaemons?”
“The King and Queen, essentially.”
Her lips pop open in shock. “You’re a prince. ”
“More or less.”
She quirks a brow.
“I have no desire to rule. That kind of responsibility…”
I shake my head, heaving a sigh. “My brother. He would have been a good king.”
Emotion stings my eyes. While I think about him often, I almost never speak of him. His absence is far too painful to be affirmed aloud.
Elowen’s hand rubs soothing circles over my chest, and as if somehow by her own magic, if she had any, the tightness and pressure there ease. Sagging into her touch, exhaustion suddenly overwhelms me.
“There was an incident… about a year ago. He may very well be alive, but we just have no way of finding him. Though we are still searching and hoping to find him.”
“Oh, darling… I’m so sorry.”
It takes considerable effort not to wallow but to push onward to what I need to tell her.
“Which leaves me as the heir.”
Elowen draws in a steady, thoughtful breath. “And if you wanted me to come with you, I would be your consort? I can’t imagine your family—or your people—would be pleased with a human ruling over daemon-kind.”
A sad but no less relieved grin tilts my lips. “Actually, that’s the least of my worries. My mother’s a Sanguinati.”
“A what?”
“It’s another type of immortal being that sustains itself from the blood of other magically inclined beings.”
Elowen’s brows leap as her jaw drops. Somehow, she is more shocked over this than me being a prince. “You mean a vampire? Vampires are real? And there are more beings than just vampires that sustain themselves from blood?”
Here we go…
“If that’s what a Sanguinati is, then yes... and daemons, like myself, also sustain themselves from blood—though we enjoy food as well.”
A beguiling flush creeps up her neck as her eyes widen, and her arousal scent blossoms anew. “That means you will need to drink my blood?”
Hope and relief wash over me like a tidal wave. The fact that the very idea of it arouses her is an immense relief, and I silently send a prayer of gratitude to Akash . I imagine there are many who would have an aversion. Though this does not even begin to cover half my concerns, it gives me faith that perhaps she will be receptive towards the other things she will need to take into consideration.
“Yes. Once we fulfill the bond, we will need to drink from one another’s veins regularly.”
Her lips part, and the desire and want in her eyes is as clear as the scent of her honey seeping from her core.
“There is more.”
“More?”
“Much more.”
Her eyes widened again, darting between each of mine as if they would reveal the answers. I heave a sigh, trying to exhale my trepidation. “Because you are mortal, when we fulfill the bond, my blood and my venom will cause your body to shift… from then on, your life will be tied to mine. You will live an immortal life alongside me, you will need blood to survive, you will even grow fangs similar to mine, and perhaps experience other shifts, though we cannot be sure which precisely.”
Her lips part in shock. Silence descends between us, and with each passing fraction of a second, my fear grows more immense.
“Wow…”
Oh, fuck.
“Is this something you are opposed to?”
She shakes her head with certainty, easing some of my fear. “No… I just… It’s a lot.”
Akash almighty. It really is. And we’re only halfway through.
“There are a few other things to take into consideration as well.”
Her delicate brows leap yet again before she chuckles, and a wistful grin dances across her face. “How extraordinary… Even though I knew you in my soul, even if only in my dreams, I would never in a million years have fathomed such things for myself. I think I only ever imagined being stuck with Forsythe, serving him in all ways, until I grew old and he grew tired of me.”
Dark satisfaction rises in me. “Now we will grow old together, in many years’ time, and Forsythe will soon be dead.”
Like her thoughts, Elowen’s eyes drift for several moments, not looking nearly as excited as I’d hoped before she breaks the silence. “What else do I need to know?”
“Well, first and foremost, because my parents are the Archdaemons, and they are already nearly a thousand years old, they are more than ready to step down from their thrones. And because my brother isn’t here…”
“They expect you to take their place.”
I nod.
“Which means that what? I will have to become a... Archdaemoness?”
My unease is obvious as I nod again.
“Anything else?”
“I’m afraid so.”
She blows out a breath. “Jesus. Well, let’s hear it.”
“They will expect you to provide an heir unless we find my brother.”
Elowen’s expression, for the first time, is unreadable. Flat. My anxiety returns. “Well then… I suppose we’ll just have to find your brother.”
I’m not entirely sure which of the myriad changes forced upon her I’d have preferred her to be resistant towards, but bearing my children certainly wouldn’t be it. I will be a happy and fulfilled husband to Elowen regardless of children, but I can’t help the sadness welling in my chest like a sad little puddle.
“You do not wish to have children? Ever?”
Her own sadness is palpable as she studies me with forlorn eyes.
“I fear they would have my mother’s illness.”
I do not think your mother was ill, Elowen. I think Forsythe lied to you. But these are things I cannot yet say. So instead, I speak another truth.
“No, they would be immortal. Like us.”
“Her illness was not merely of the body, but the mind. I would not wish it upon anyone. I sometimes have feared that I possess it myself, though meeting you has dispelled much of that fear—since it has been proven that you were not merely a figment of my imagination.”
Just as I’m about to ask more about her mother’s ‘symptoms’, I hear the squeak of a metal door far down the corridor leading to my cell and the soft clicking of booted heels, followed by a whiff of Forsythe’s scent mixed with a cocktail of other chemical scents that make my skin crawl.
His lip is curled in disgust as he finally stands in front of us, safely behind the bars. “God, you reek, Elowen. You’re covered in him.”
The words make my chest swell with satisfaction.