5. CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER FIVE
R owan pried her eyes open as a beam of light shone through the bedroom window, directly onto her face. The sun’s position in the sky told her that it was already late afternoon. She couldn’t believe she’d slept for so long. Back at the orphanage, sleeping in late was met with lashes. The thought triggered a sense of urgency to get up, despite the burning pain and stiffness in her muscles, spine, and joints.
Throwing off the quilt, she leaped out of bed. Thankful for the clothes Casimir had left for her, she put on a simple yet beautiful green dress that almost matched the color of her eyes. It had a fitted bodice and delicate lace embellishments on the sleeves and hem, and was easily the finest garment she’d ever worn.
Rowan tentatively opened the bedroom door and caught sight of Casimir standing at the kitchen window, looking at the view outside. His disheveled raven hair and weary expression only added to his hauntingly handsome appearance.
He straightened and gave her a slight nod as she walked into the room. “Good afternoon. I put some food out. I thought you might be starting to get hungry again.”
He motioned to the bountiful spread laid out on the round wooden table. It differed greatly from anything she’d had at the orphanage—a feast of juicy crimson apples, plump berries, rolls, and a roasted chicken. Rowan’s mouth watered at the sight of the food, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since last night. Still, she hesitated, eyeing Casimir uncertainly.
He raised a questioning eyebrow. “What? Do I need to taste test every dish to prove it’s not poisoned? ”
Rowan wondered if he had an ulterior motive. Maybe he was trying to fatten her up like a prize pig before slaughter. After all, he was a vampire.
She masked her thoughts by forcing herself to smile as she approached the table. “I just didn’t know you could cook.”
He pulled out a chair for her. “I have many talents, but cooking isn’t exactly one of them. The chicken’s a tad charred.”
She responded with a wider grin. “It all looks delicious, and far better than I’m used to.”
Rowan perched on the edge of her chair, keeping a safe distance from Casimir. Tentatively, she reached for an apple, taking a large bite. The sweet juice exploded in her mouth. For a moment, she closed her eyes, savoring the taste. When she opened them, she found him watching her intently.
She stiffened involuntarily, her face heating under his scrutiny. “What is it?”
He gestured vaguely with one hand. “There’s something different about you . . . a certain energy that I can’t quite put my finger on.” He sighed and looked away from her as if struggling to find the right words. “What do you know about your parents?”
Rowan nearly choked on her apple. “What?”
“Your parents,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair and studying her. “Knowing about your past might help me understand what I’m sensing.”
With a stirring of unease, Rowan set down the apple. “I don’t know anything about them.”
Casimir’s gaze softened. “You don’t remember anything about them?” She could hear the underlying question: Are you sure?
The subject was one she didn’t like to speak about, and she responded in a flat monotone. “I was left at the doorstep of the orphanage when I was very young. I don’t know anything about my parents’ identity, or my heritage.”
“Didn’t they leave anything with you that could shed a light on where you came from?” His dark eyes were fixed on hers, searching.
She shrugged, uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “Just a scrap of parchment with my name and a symbol sketched on it.”
He leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on the table. “Tell me more about this symbol. It might be important.”
Her brow furrowed as she considered her response, before deciding that there was probably no harm in sharing what little she knew. “It’s an intricate design—almost geometric. There are circles interlocking with curved lines radiating outward. I searched all the books at the orphanage and couldn’t find anything similar. I have no idea what it means.”
“Do you remember enough to draw it for me?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
He dashed across the room and returned moments later with some parchment, a quill, and an ink pot. Rowan wondered why he was so interested. It was probably just the scribblings of an illiterate peasant, something she’d had to remind herself about countless times over the years. Yet she still held on to a glimmer of hope that it might lead to answers.
With a steady hand, she dipped the quill into the inkwell and easily traced the symbol onto the parchment from memory.
Casimir’s expression darkened.
“What is it?”
He hesitated for a moment before replying. “If I remember correctly, this symbol has an unsettling significance.”
Rowan was instantly alert. She gripped the edge of the table for support and took a deep breath, willing herself to stay composed. This could be the missing piece of her past that she’d long been yearning for.
She met his gaze. “All my life, I’ve wanted to know where I came from, and why I was left behind. If this symbol can help me discover the truth, I need to find out more about it. Please, Casimir. Tell me what you know.”
After a moment, he gave her a solemn nod. “All right. I don’t know much, but if my suspicions are correct, uncovering the truth may involve risks.”
Rowan’s pulse quickened. “I’m prepared to find answers, no matter what lies ahead. This is too important for me to let fear stand in the way.”
Casimir tapped his index finger against his lips, thinking “I’ve heard of someone about five days’ journey from here who might be able to assist us.” He glanced around the cabin. “We should leave as soon as possible. It’s not like we can stick around here much longer anyway. By now, someone will have found the arch patriarch’s body, and the Brotherhood’s Enforcers will be hunting you. It’s as good a place as any to go for the time being.” He stood abruptly.
Rowan grimaced. The sudden reminder of the gruesome scene she’d left behind at the orphanage made her lose her appetite. It pained her to think of the friends she’d left behind. They were probably worried sick about her right now and feeling abandoned by her departure. She was also dragging Casimir into potential danger, all because she wanted answers.
She’d never felt more selfish in her life. But the need to uncover the truth about her existence was an insatiable beast that clawed at her, making her restless with anticipation.
She studied Casimir. Rowan knew better than to trust a vampire, but she couldn’t think of a better option at the moment. Despite the battle of emotions that raged within, her voice remained steady as she said, “I appreciate your help. And I’m ready to go whenever you are.”
With that, he disappeared into the other room, returning seconds later with two bags of supplies, a sword at his back, and a small dagger strapped to his thigh. “Finish eating, and pack lightly.”
A few minutes later, they set off on his chestnut-brown horse, whom he affectionally called Cinnamon.
“Where exactly are we headed?” she asked, her voice carried off by the wind.
“The village of Cascading Falls. I haven’t been there in over a century, but I recently heard through my sources that an expert on ancient symbols lives there.”
“Over a century . . .” Her mind grappled with the enormity of his existence. She turned, peering up at him. “How old are you?”
Casimir’s eyes remained fixed on the forest path ahead. “Old enough to have seen what the Brotherhood’s Crusade for Traditional Values did to this kingdom.” His voice was an indistinct murmur. “And old enough to have watched the reign of countless kings before King Bertram took the throne.”
Rowan’s jaw dropped. “The crusade was . . . that was over two hundred years ago. You must be . . .”
“Two hundred and twenty-seven, to be precise.”
“But you don’t look . . .” She trailed off, trying to reconcile his youthful appearance with his age.
“Appearances can be deceiving. Vampires don’t age after they’re turned. I wasn’t much older than you when it happened.”
She remained silent for a moment, considering her words before speaking again. “What was it like back then?”
“It was a different world entirely.” He paused, looking into the distance as if gazing into the past. “Women were more respected then. They had rights and freedoms. They held positions of political and religious power. They owned lands.” His voice turned bitter, his knuckles whitening on Cinnamon’s reins. “The Brotherhood started out as a small group of radicals in a far-off corner of the kingdom. Nobody paid them much mind. But it wasn’t long before they’d brainwashed enough uneducated and disillusioned men with their propaganda to amass an army—one large enough to take over the kingdom through bribery, violence, and bloodshed.”
Rowan shifted uncomfortably. She’d overheard whispers from older women during her trips to Emberwick, a nearby village where the orphanage obtained supplies. She longed for a world where women were regarded as equals, but it was hard to wrap her mind around such a reality.
After a few moments of watching the sun begin to set, casting an orange-red glow over the horizon, her thoughts turned to other questions. Sitting so close to Casimir made her wonder how long she would be safe in his company.
“Can you consume food?” she asked cautiously. “I haven’t seen you eat.”
He adjusted his grip on the reins, guiding Cinnamon through the dense forest. The silence between them stretched. Rowan wondered if she had ventured into forbidden territory.
After what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “Food is both a distant memory and an unattainable desire. I miss the sensory experience. The burst of flavor from succulent fruit; a juicy steak . . . Vampires are forever denied these pleasures.” He sighed. “Now food tastes like ash on my tongue. While I can consume small amounts, I get no enjoyment or nourishment. Fresh animal blood can sustain me temporarily, but only . . .”
“Only what?”
“Only the blood of mortals can truly satisfy my thirst.”
She shivered, though not entirely with fear. The thought stirred a dark fascination within her.
They rode deeper into the forest. Rowan examined the surrounding landscape as she pondered his words. Trees towered over the path, their lush green canopies filtering dying sunlight onto the forest floor. Vines twisted and curled around trunks and branches. Clusters of wildflowers in vibrant colors sprouted from beneath the leaf-littered ground, punctuating the uniform greens and browns.
Rowan tried to imagine an existence devoid of the simple enjoyment of food and drink. She turned and watched Casimir, taking in the strong lines of his profile and the contained grace with which he handled the reins. There was a quiet sorrow to him that tugged at her heart .
“Are there other differences between you and a mortal man?” she asked.
Casimir arched an eyebrow. “You’re very curious, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “Yes. I want to get to know you better.” Then she shrugged, trying to appear relaxed, even though she was anything but. “Besides, we have a long journey, and I don’t like silence. I’m not used to it.”
He gave her a pinched smile. “All right, then. There’s much to know, and not all of it’s pleasant. Are you sure you can handle it?” His voice held a hint of warning.
“I can handle it.” The more information she had, the better equipped she would be to defend herself if necessary.
He studied her for a few moments before speaking again. “The most obvious difference would be my strength and speed. I’m considerably faster and stronger than any human. I can see through the darkest night as if it were bathed in sunlight and hear a whisper from a mile away. Through the power of shadows, I can conceal myself from human sight.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. She was both amazed and disturbed by his capabilities, his otherness.
“Yes. It has its advantages.”
They lapsed into silence. The rhythmic cadence of Cinnamon’s hooves against the ground provided the only sound. As they moved farther away from the orphanage that had been both her shelter and her prison, Rowan’s emotions became more conflicted. There had been many nights that she had dreamed of escape, but dreams were ethereal things, dissolving at the touch of reality. Now, as the world opened up around her, the vastness of it all made her pulse speed up and a cold sweat break out on her skin.
“Are you all right?” Casimir’s voice cut through her reverie.
“Fine,” she said, a little too quickly, the lie sitting uneasily on her tongue. “Just . . . it’s a lot to take in.”
He spoke softly. “Learning that vampires exist and walk among mortals must be overwhelming, especially with everything that’s happened. But it can also bring a sense of freedom as you enter a whole new world.”
“It is a bit overwhelming.” She paused. “But I want to thank you for helping me. I truly appreciate it.”
He gave a casual wave of his hand. “Think nothing of it. I love a good mystery, and I’m curious where this clue will lead us.”
After consuming a hasty breakfast the next morning, Rowan admired the sunrise filtering through the dense canopy, its warm rays painting the sky with a rosy hue. The embers from the night’s fire were dying out, replaced by a chilly breeze that rustled the leaves of the high trees. Dew clung to the grass, and a chorus of songbirds filled the air with their early morning melodies.
Casimir’s usual alertness and efficiency was evident in every move he made. His dark eyes surveyed their surroundings with protective vigilance as he stowed away their bedding and smothered what remained of their fire. Rowan watched him as she packed up and couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders and muscular build.
She noted how his persona shifted subtly when he thought she wasn’t watching. His usual controlled confidence would fall away just slightly, hints of vulnerability coloring his features: a fleeting frown here, an unconscious clenching of his jaw there.
They set off on their journey, and Rowan found herself stealing glances at his lips, the image of his fangs etched in her memory.
“We’ve been traveling together for several days now,” she said cautiously. “How often do you need to drink blood?”
Casimir tensed behind her. She turned to look back at him.
“My apologies if my comment was insensitive. Is it a struggle? To resist your instincts?”
“I’ve never met a human as blunt as you.” He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face before he answered. “Every day is a battle. But some things are worth fighting for.”
“Like what?”
“Like ensuring you don’t become my midnight snack,” he teased, though the amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She let out a nervous giggle. “You do realize that if you did try to bite me, I’d make you regret it.”
He gave her an amused smirk. “Of that, I have no doubt.”
After a moment of awkward silence, she redirected the conversation. “What’s it like, witnessing history unfold? Being a part of it all?”
“Lonely.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Time is cruel to my kind. We stay the same while everything and everyone around us ages and dies.” He gave a small huff, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “It’s like being trapped in an endless play where you’re forced to watch as the scenes change again and again. ”
His voice held an underlying hint of sorrow that stirred something inside her as they pressed on through the wild terrain, the cold reality of immortality laid bare. Rowan’s mind spun with questions and observations, her curiosity never-ending.
“You’re not like any vampire from the stories. The sun doesn’t turn you to ash. Do vampires have weaknesses?”
Casimir’s features tightened fractionally, a shadow passing over his face. “Silver,” he admitted with a hint of reluctance. “It burns us, weakens us. It’s why that depraved arch patriarch temporarily got the better of me.”
Rowan’s forehead creased. “Silver?”
“Yes. Not much can harm me. But I wouldn’t have you think less of me for faltering under the blow of a candlestick.”
“Then why did you stay to fight him? To help me?”
“Because . . .” He hesitated. “Because sometimes, even creatures of the night find themselves fighting for something more than survival. And in that moment, your life seemed more precious than my own.”
The confession made Rowan feel bold enough to continue probing. “How did you become a vampire? Did you choose to become immortal?”
Casimir’s jaw clenched, and his eyes flashed with a dangerous gleam. “Rowan,” he said, his voice like a blade, “there are aspects of my life that are off limits. Don’t mistake my willingness to help you as an invitation to pry into my past.”
She stiffened. “I meant no offense. I just want to get to know you better. We’ve left behind everything and everyone I’ve ever known. I don’t have anyone else.” Her eyes stung from the tears she refused to shed.
He looked away, staring at the path ahead while rubbing a hand through his tousled hair. The silence stretched for what felt like hours before he finally spoke again.
“I didn’t choose this life. It would be more accurate to say it chose me.” He hesitated. “When I was first turned, I reveled in violence, in the taste of terror. But such revelries . . . they leave stains upon the soul that not even time can cleanse.”
His display of vulnerability tugged at Rowan’s heart. “Your past doesn’t define you. Sometimes we’re forced to do things we don’t like to survive. We all have regrets, but your actions show that you’re trying to be a good person.”
Casimir’s reply came fast and sharp. “I’m not a person. I’m a vampire. And I’m capable of terrible things.” He halted their progress, his glacial eyes filled with a raw intensity. “You shouldn’t forget what I am.” His gaze penetrated her with a force that threatened to knock the breath out of her lungs. “You should never forget.”
She shrank away from him, confused by his outburst. “But you defended me.”
“That doesn’t make me any less dangerous.”
Cognizant that she’d trodden on a part of his past that he would rather keep concealed, Rowan shifted to a safer topic. “What do you enjoy doing when you’re not playing the role of a brooding knight?”
The tension in his shoulders eased, and he chuckled at her comment. “Brooding, am I?”
“Most definitely.” A wide smile formed on her lips.
Casimir spoke about his travels. His voice, deep and melodic, wove vivid tales of daring feats and exciting adventures. Hours passed as they talked and laughed before the conversation turned serious once again.
“A long time ago, before my transformation, I had a friend named Riordan.” His expression was clouded with nostalgia. “Despite our vastly different backgrounds, we were brothers in all the ways that matter.”
Casimir reminisced about their shared exploits on the southern island where he was born: racing through a dense forest teeming with wildlife, navigating treacherous seas under the heat of a relentless sun. Every adventure was vividly painted, each moment beautifully brought to life.
“We trained together as warriors in our youth,” he continued, “our contrasting strengths complementing each other in battle. But when war descended, it was a horror unlike anything I could have imagined.”
His voice grew strained, and a chill crept down Rowan’s spine.
“The world we knew unraveled as clouds of smoke smothered the sky, turning day into an endless night. The sounds of crashing steel were drowned out by howling winds carrying the cries of my dying friends. It was pure chaos.” He stared off into the distance for a moment before he continued. “Riordan and I fought back-to-back. Our enemy was an unthinkable force—an onslaught of soldiers that reeked of death, their decaying bodies twisted in grotesque parodies of humanity.”
His words showed her a terrifying reality, contrasting starkly with the peaceful landscape surrounding them.
“We were boys, thrust into carnage . . .” Casimir’s voice trailed off as he lost himself in the memory. “For creatures like me, companionship is fleeting. ”
“But it doesn’t have to be that way.” She looked back at him with sympathy and understanding. “You’ve endured lifetimes of pain and sorrow. But it’s never too late to seek happiness.”
Rowan was all too familiar with the struggle to keep hope alive. If she could make a positive difference for Casimir, she’d take it—even if she still didn't fully trust him.
He stared at her in silence, his gaze unreadable. For a moment, Rowan feared she’d overstepped again, but then his lips curved into a faint smile.
“I have to admit, your perspective is refreshing.”
“I suppose that makes us quite the pair, then,” she teased. “I balance out your broodiness.”
Her playful remark earned another chuckle from him. The moonlight reflected off his eyes as he stared ahead.
After a few heartbeats, he spoke again. “Friends are rare commodities in my world. They come with risks and vulnerabilities I’ve learned to avoid over the centuries. But perhaps . . .” His eyes flicked toward her again. “Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
“We all need someone to rely on—immortal or not.”
He gave a slight nod and an almost imperceptible grunt of agreement.
After a moment of thought, Rowan gave him a mischievous smile. “Now that we’re friends,” she said, her tone light, “we should have nicknames for each other, don’t you think?”
Casimir raised an eyebrow, his expression wary. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ve never been a big fan of nicknames.”
Rowan needed to release some of the tension that had been building up inside her for the past few days, so she chose to ignore his reticence. “How about ‘Cassie’? It has a nice ring to it.” She let out a giggle.
Casimir’s steely gaze met hers. “How about no.”
Rowan tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully, undeterred by his rejection. “What about ‘Shadowbringer’? It suits you.”
Casimir let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his temple. “No. Absolutely not.”
She chuckled, finding more enjoyment than she should in testing the vampire’s boundaries. “Fine, then. How about ‘Moonstrider’?”
Casimir leveled her with a pointed look that could freeze fire. “Bloody hell, woman. Definitely not,” he said firmly, though a hint of a smile tugged at his lips.