Chapter 13
SERA
Istayed in Lizzie’s chambers until the sky was washed pink with dawn. Now, as I open my eyes, it is to the new unfamiliar surroundings of my own room. The sun is high in the sky and the sounds of a city alive and thriving float up to the windows.
Nighthaven was beautiful, but it was all a mirage — as still as a painting. Out of my window, there were no signs of life other than the roses and the trees. There were no bees buzzing in the breeze. No dawn chorus. No spiders spinning their webs of lace in the corners of the ceiling.
But here, the city feels alive. Ridiculous, really, considering it is a city run by the undead.
I climb out of bed and lift up the sash, breathing in the sounds and smells.
My chamber faces the front of the neat crescent, overlooking a large patch of grass filled with grazing sheep. One would not see such a sight in London, but Bath is a city that spills freely into the countryside. I am quite sure, however, that I should not grow too fond of the sheep. They will not last long once the rest of the vampire nobility arrives.
The thought of the sheep being drained in the night sends a shiver down my spine, casting a shadow over the idyllic scene. No matter how charming my surroundings, the reality of my situation remains unchanged. I am a prisoner. And without learning more about my family and what my powers might do, that will not change.
Lizzie’s idea that we might find dukes to marry is perhaps the best hope I have of a future that does not involve vampires and darkness. But it will not be possible whilst I am bound to Nate.
Marrying someone else — even the thought of promenading with another gentleman or catching their eye — makes my gut churn. And I know that is the bond’s fault, too. Or perhaps my own for feeding it — for giving it what it screamed for, so now it sits underneath my skin like its own living, pulsing thing that will not be silenced. That demands more and more.
It makes me uncomfortable that even now, in the light of day, I am craving the thrill of Nate’s hands on my body and his fangs sinking into my flesh. I yearn for it, but recoil, too, knowing that each moment spent in his arms only deepens my captivity.
I cannot go on like this. The physical ache when we’re apart, the constant pull towards him… it’s maddening. And it’s dangerous. I feel like I’m losing myself, piece by piece, drowning in a sea of desire and loathing.
Back at Nighthaven, Mrs Hawley told me to better understand myself and my powers, so I can find a way to break the bond. Nate did not protest at me trying, either. He even promised me my freedom once the Tournament is over.
So where do I begin to look for answers?
I think back to the library at Nighthaven, the countless tomes filled with secrets and forbidden knowledge. Surely, in a city as ancient as Bath, there must be similar repositories of information. Libraries, archives, even bookshops, with their own secrets. There has to be something, somewhere, that can help me.
And Mrs Hawley will know where to direct me, even if she can give me no answers myself.
I find her in the basement of the house, bustling around in the kitchen, preparing food for an early luncheon.
I have never seen her work in such a human way. Everything I have seen of her has been encased with magic, save for her pulling me into my corsets each night. That has felt very real indeed.
“Mrs Hawley, may we have a moment to speak?”
She does not turn to look at me, focusing her attentions on a pot where she has placed eggs to boil. “I was pleased to learn you arrived in Bath safely.”
“Thank you. It was quite the journey.” I hover for a moment, watching the rolling bubbles and the steam rising into the air, then take a seat at the long dining table. It is intended for a whole brood of servants, but there is just Mrs Hawley — a singular, lonely figure. The captain of the ship.
“I am not sure how many days we will have before the Tournament begins, but I intend to use my time to find answers, just as we discussed in Nighthaven. Might you tell me where I should look to learn more about my mother?” I lower my voice. “And if there is somewhere that might help with my magic, so I can use it to break the bond? A library of some sort?”
There is silence between us; the eggs gently bobbing against the sides of the pot, the only sound in the room.
“The Court has a great archive, but it is kept under lock and key at House Azarov’s estate.” She turns towards me. “And it is a vampire’s history, not that of witches. I cannot recommend you go there. It would put you and Lord Nathaniel in danger.”
I frown. “But if there might be something that will help me break the bond, it will be to Nate’s benefit?—”
“No.” She reaches for a rag of a cloth and wipes her hands on it, then sits down opposite me. “The loyalty I have to House Blackwood is a complicated thing. By rights, I should tell someone what you are, but to do so would put Lord Nathaniel in danger.”
“Is your ultimate loyalty not to the Duchess?”
Mrs Hawley smiles sadly, shaking her head. “There is a reason that I am here with the humans and her Grace is in her own lodgings with gutterfang servants catering to her every whim.”
“I assumed you were tied to Nighthaven until you joined us here. Is that not the norm?”
“Housekeepers serve the matriarch ordinarily. We are their ladies’ maid, confidante, gardener, cook, butler, all in one. We go where they go. But that has not been the case for the past twenty years at House Blackwood.”
“I would ask what happened, but?—”
Mrs Hawley cuts me off, shaking her head. “I cannot speak of it. But it puts me in a difficult position. If Lady Blackwood and I were as close as we once were, I would have reported your nature to her immediately. Now, my loyalties are more evenly split amongst the household.”
“So it is easier to say nothing at all than risk their wrath?”
She smiles again. “Yes, I suppose that is the simplest way to explain it.” She puts her hands out on the table, stretching her fingers against the wood. “I feel comfortable with the decision I have come to, though.”
Our eyes meet.
“I was not lying to you at Nighthaven: I do not know how you will break the bond, only that there will be ways to do it. And every day, before the other pledges are awake and demanding breakfast, you and I will practice. We will ensure your magic is under control, just as I said.”
I nod, eager for her to show me something now, but knowing it is dangerous when Charles, Lizzie, or worst of all, Agnes, could appear at any moment.
“I cannot recommend you go to House Azarov,” she repeats, avoiding my gaze this time. “But there will be answers for you there. And if you bide your time; learn to harness your magic and only visit when the lords and ladies are distracted by the Tournament, then it will not be such a risk.”
My hands fly to my neck, tracing the links of my mother’s chain.
Mrs Hawley knows who she was, I am sure of it. It was in her eyes when I showed her the book of love poems and its inscription to Emerson. There is no possibility she could have served the Blackwoods and not known my mother, I suppose. But to speak it would be treason, just as she told me in Nighthaven.
She will stay silent.
But I don’t have to.
“I believe my mother was a witch,” I say plainly, “and I would like to honour her heritage by learning as much as I can about my own magic. I will be grateful to be under your instruction, Mrs Hawley.” I stand, pushing myself away from the table and head for the stairs. “We will begin tomorrow at dawn.”
For a few hours the next morning, when the only sounds in the house are the birds in the trees and the bleating of the sheep on the grass, Mrs Hawley and I work together in the quiet of the basement. She guides me through the basics of focusing my power and shaping it to my will — things I have shown I can do in the heat of the moment, but need to have at my disposal not only in times of crisis.
She watches with a critical eye, correcting my form, my intent, pushing me to hone my control.
I have Nate to thank for the frequent lapses in my concentration. The need to see him throbs in the back of my head, distracting me with its relentlessness — like a child tugging at its mother’s skirts for attention. But when I push him away and focus, the small things quickly become second nature. Lighting candles with a thought, moving objects with a gesture; under Mrs Hawley’s instruction, they are as mindless as breathing. It is freeing to be good at something for perhaps the first time in my life. And tapping into the well of energy that’s always been inside me, lying dormant, then clamouring to break free is exhausting, but invigorating, too.
For the first time in my life, I feel powerful.
“That will do for today.” Mrs Hawley pulls herself up from one of the rickety chairs at the table and begins the preparations for breakfast.
“Can I help?” I gesture to the basket of cakes and breads that arrived during our lesson by a delivery boy from the bakery.
“No.” Mrs Hawley’s tone is cold, firm. “You are not staff. You are a guest of House Blackwood who mistakenly wandered into the kitchen. Now go.”
I climb the stairs, hearing Agnes, Lizzie, and Charles somewhere in the house and feel desperate to avoid them.
Too much has changed since we last feasted together. I cannot sit across from them, weighed down by secrets, feeling Charles’s judgement and fury, and Agnes’s ever-watchful eye pressing down on me.
“Sera,” Lizzie’s voice echoes at my back as I climb the stairs. She has poked her head around the door to the drawing room. “I thought I heard you. Won’t you join us? It looks as though Agnes’s stay here is short-lived. We thought we might use this last breakfast to be together, the four of us.”
“Is Agnes to stay with Lady Charlotte?”
“Yes, it seems she has been summoned back indefinitely. Please. Come.” She begs me with her eyes, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind her with a gentle click. “I know Charles is not the best company at the moment, but there are things we should talk about. Neither Juliette nor Rafe came to us to feed last night. Agnes was not called back to Charlotte, either, until the summons arrived to tell her that a carriage would call for her at sundown. What of Nate? Did you see him?”
I frown. “No, he did not come.”
“They should be ravenous, Sera. Why would they not need us? They were relentless at Nighthaven. Have they grown bored of us, do you think?”
“If they have, it is no bad thing.” I sigh, knowing that will not be the answer. “I think it is more likely that they have been busy attending to matters we will never know of. Juliette will be entangled with directives from the Court, and Nate and Rafe will be trying to track down Aulus, or at least find some answers about the attack. If they do not come tonight, then we worry.”
Lizzie nods. “You are right. Rafe would not take a pledge he had no intention of feeding from. If he found me so undesirable, he would have taken Agnes instead.”
“He has not fed from you?”
“No.” She shuffles a little. “Hence I am growing concerned that there is something wrong with me.”
I turn and trot down the stairs, resting my hand on Lizzie’s forearm. “There is nothing wrong with you. And even if there were, vampires crave blood above all else. It would not stop him. Just enjoy the reprieve while it lasts.”
“I know it will sound ridiculous.” She looks away. “But if Rafe doesn’t need me, then I shall have to go back to London, and all of this will have been for nothing.”
“They will come to us tonight. I am sure of it.” I look at the drawing room door, hearing the low rumble of Charles’s voice beyond it. I lower my voice. “I cannot face Charles, not today. He will not want to break bread with me, either, after everything that he said. But do say farewell to Agnes for me.” I squeeze her arm and turn back to the stairs, leaving Lizzie to disappear back into the drawing room with slumped shoulders.
I know what she is feeling, although the ache in me is surely a thousand times stronger thanks to the bond than the pull she feels toward Rafe. It is a perfect war of emotions — dreading being under their jaws, but near burning with shame at the thought they might not want us.
For Lizzie, it must be the glamour doing it. Something she can more easily be freed of than I can my connection to Nate.
I climb up to my bedchamber, feeling the familiar, distracting stirrings of longing, and banish them by practicing my magic until it is dark. Each small victory, from lighting the fire with one look to setting a bath in front of it with steaming water, only stokes my hunger to learn more. To be more.
But as the darkness creeps in beyond the windows, a different kind of hunger stirs in my belly. It is an insistent, demanding ache; a restless yearning for Nate’s touch, his presence, that settles in my bones. I try to push it aside, to focus once more on my magic, but it’s a losing battle.
I reach for him, not too proud to speak into his mind and beg for him to come to me, but I am met by a wall of resistance.
He has shut me out.
What is going on?
I try again, pacing about the room. The sensation that I will soon climb the walls with the desperation that burns in my blood is so overwhelming that I know I need to release it.
I sit on the edge of the chair by the fireplace and conjure a flame. It dances in my palm and I feel no pain as it licks my skin. It has taken some of the energy, but it is not enough.
“Do try not to burn the crescent to the ground.”
I turn at the sound of Nate’s voice. He is standing in the doorway, hair ruffled, dark eyes focusing on the heart of the flame.
Instinctively, I look at his sleeves, the edges of his mouth for signs of blood.
There are none.
“Your control is improving.” He steps inside, shutting the door, and gestures towards my hand. “Mrs. Hawley must be an adequate teacher.”
I bristle at the jab. “She’s more than adequate. And she has helped me more in a day than you have since we left Nighthaven.”
Nate arches a brow, stalking closer. “Is that so? And what, pray tell, have I been neglecting?”
The heat in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. I lift my chin, refusing to be cowed. “You feel the same as I do. The bond is a distraction. Yet you shut me out, keep away from me, and let it fester. If I did send my bedchamber up in flames, it would be your fault.”
His eyes flash and suddenly he’s right in front of me, his hand cupping my cheek. “It has only been a night, witchling.”
I lean into his touch instinctively, hating myself for it even as I crave more. His fingers press along my neck, stroking the contours where the veins carve their path, and I barely suppress a whimper.
“I have not wanted to stay away.” He drops his hand, stepping back. The loss of contact is almost physically painful. “But it is not my choice. I have been undertaking tasks given to me by Valeria. My time is not my own whilst I am under her directive.”
“But you need to feed?—”
“Yes. Why else would I be here?”
His reply jabs at some sensitive part inside me — the place that winces at the idea that Nate might find satisfaction elsewhere. That he might not need me, doubled with the hurt that my blood is all he needs me for.
It is a ridiculous, inexplicable pain.
I shake it away.
“What is your task from Valeria?”
Nate frowns. “It is best that you don’t know the detail of it.”
My stomach drops. “What could be worse than what I have already witnessed?”
Part of me doesn’t want him to answer the question. I have only been able to look him in the eye since he ripped the hunters apart because I know he had no choice.
He wouldn’t resort to senseless violence. He’s not that kind of vampire.
But if Valeria ordered it…
“You have only seen a fraction of what I am capable of.” His voice is low, eyes dragged to mine.
“Then I should know the extent of it.” I straighten up in my chair, swallowing the emotion from my voice. “We are bound together. If you are putting yourself in danger because of an order from Valeria?—”
He turns away, then back again, pulling me to my feet. “I shut you out because I could not face this and it has happened, anyway.”
“Face what?”
“Your questioning. The quiver in your bottom lip.” He reaches out and tugs at the flesh with his thumb. “You will not think I am a monster for what I have done tonight, but you will be jealous.”
I pull my head away. “Jealous?”
“My orders from Valeria are to ensure Caroline Vossler thinks our marriage still stands. I am to gain her trust, her loyalty, her adoration, and find out exactly what she and her family are plotting.”
My whole body bristles. “So you were wooing her tonight?”
“Not yet. There needs to be a more social occasion for us to become acquainted or she would be suspicious.” He turns away from me. “But I have been watching her.”
Another sensation runs through me, prickling under my skin. This is what Nate was sparing me from.
I clear my throat. “And did you learn anything?”
“I know where they are staying and that they have allies — friendships already forged that will prove useful to them during the Tournament.”
“What is it that Valeria fears from them? They have been spoken of with such derision…”
“An uprising. A coup. Losing her seat on the Court because gutterfangs above their station have turned the nobility against her.”
“And you think this is what they are plotting?”
“They are making a move for power, I’m sure of it. But that is nothing new — every noble family would backstab another if it meant they would gain wealth and influence by joining the Court.”
“So why is Valeria so concerned by the Vosslers?”
“That’s what I am trying to find out.”
“You should bring me along next time. I might be useful. I have been practicing?—”
Nate laughs. “You are growing stronger, but you would still slow me down, witchling.”
But we would be together. I think it, then curse. Nate’s smile tells me he heard it.
“I won’t shut you out again. But there will come a time when I am tasked with more than just spying on another family.”
I nod, imagining his sleeves dripping with blood. Spots on the hallway floor.
“I have my summons.” He reaches into his coat and passes me a crimson-lined piece of thick parchment. It looks to be nothing more than an innocent calling card. “The official opening of our Season will be marked tomorrow night with the Court’s first assembly and the trial for my crimes.”
I feel Nate’s uncertainty. Something has rattled him.
“You are concerned?”
He shakes his head. “It is nothing. Valeria gave me her word and I do not believe she wants me dead when I am so valuable, but…” He glances back at the summons. “My sister has been acting differently.”
“Differently? She has not been to feed from Charles. Rafe has not been, either. We had begun to speculate what has kept you all away.”
Nate frowns. “I cannot speak for my siblings. Their absence seems… peculiar.” He brushes a hand through his hair, pushing the dark waves away from his eyes.
I imagine him doing the same movement with his coat removed; his shirt sleeves rolled up to expose the thick, protruding veins in his arms.
The thought sends a pulse of longing between my legs.
“Does Juliette know of the deal with Valeria?”
“I imagine so. She and Rafe know about the bond and I have my suspicions they are trying to protect us in whatever ways they can.”
“But you have always said we cannot trust them?—”
“I trust Rafe and Juliette as much as it is possible to trust any vampire. It is not a great compliment, I know. But I do not think they would betray me. They have never done so before.”
“Why don’t you ask them outright? They might be able to help us in more definitive ways. Guide us on how we break the bond.”
Nate studies me. “You are surely learning by now, Sera, that there is more at play in Bath than we realised. I might be able to trust my siblings, but if they were to speak of things, act upon them openly… well, we do not know who might overhear it. We have been betrayed before.”
“Just as you would betray Caroline Vossler.”
“It is a means to an end.”
I bite my lip. I do not relish the idea of Nate pursuing Caroline, but it is not only the jealousy I dislike — it’s the deception. No woman deserves to feel they have been played for a fool; vampire or not.
“If she grows to trust you and then you hurt her?—”
“Then more fool her,” he grumbles. “But I think you overestimate my talent for acting.”
A flare of jealousy suddenly erupts hot and bright in my chest, so intense it steals my breath. The thought of him with her, touching her, kissing her, all to have her believe him, makes me feel sick.
“Will you make her yours in order to convince her?” My voice is barely a whisper.
Nate moves to stand behind me, his mouth trailing the base of my neck. “No. I could not fathom it.”
“The bond will not allow it,” I murmur.
It thrums between us, and I feel myself melting into Nate’s touch. He spins me around, his lips finding mine, hungry and demanding, and I surrender to the fire that burns so desperately between us.
But even as I lose myself in his kiss, in the feel of his hands on my skin, a small, stubborn part of me clings to the jealousy, the fear. Because no matter what he says, no matter how much I wish it were different…
He isn’t mine. Not truly.
Frantically, his lips tear from mine, his fangs elongated, and he strikes into my neck without warning; devouring me furiously until I sag in his arms.
He releases me, guiding me to the bed, and my body thrums with the need for him to move inside me.
For the first time, I fight it.
I close my eyes. Turn away.
Nate is not mine. Once the bond is broken, the connection between us will go, too.
And if I don’t want my heart to break in the process then, we cannot keep doing this. There will have to be some things that he cannot take, no matter how much I might want him to.