2. Chapter 2
2
Chapter 2
Bronwen
I hadn’t slept in the same room with Adar since we were ten. He snored, muttered in his sleep, and—worst of all—woke me up as soon as the sun crested the window. And yet, here we were again, our beds only a few feet apart.
My side throbbed, and each breath sent a flare of pain through my ribs. Despite the bruises, the cuts, the broken bones, Papa still thought I’d try to sneak into the woods tonight. I didn’t argue. Not because I thought I needed to be locked away—no, all I wanted was sleep. But more because I feared what would come of being marked.
Not many had been marked. The idea alone made my skin crawl. My fingers drifted to my neck, tracing the faint scar that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat. The stories I’d heard were enough to make anyone shudder. Usually, vampires couldn’t control themselves, draining their prey before the thought of stopping even crossed their minds. But in the rare cases of markings, the consequences were far worse. There was the story of a man who swore he could feel the vampire’s presence—even in his dreams—every night, he experienced death, over and over, until he couldn’t bear to close his eyes. In the end, it wasn’t the vampire that killed him, but the weight of a stone tied to his waist as he sank into the icy embrace of the river.
Then there was the woman who willingly gave herself to a vampire—nights spent in his arms, her body a canvas for his fangs. When her sister found out, she had her committed, hoping to save her from whatever madness had taken hold. But madness wasn’t what came for her. The vampire stormed the asylum, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake before vanishing into the night with her, never to be seen again.
But I knew one thing: I’d never tell anyone. Least of all Papa. If he knew, he’d risk his life—and the whole coven’s—for me. I also didn’t want to give the coven one more thing to talk about. I could handle myself.
I just needed a few days to heal.
I squeezed my eyes shut as a sharp jolt of pain shot through me. All I could hope for was a full night’s sleep without being haunted by a vampire.
“Wake up, B. Mama made your favorites for breakfast.” Adar’s voice carried an edge of teasing, as if he knew exactly how much I hated mornings. I squinted as the light poured into my room, catching sight of him perched on the edge of his neatly made bed. He was tying his boots, dressed in his fighting leathers.
I rolled to my side, letting out a gasp as my sore side reminded me of my injury. Moments from that night raced through my head, but I felt a little relief when I realized I had slept through the night without a nightmare.
“Why are you dressed like that? You don’t go back today,” I said, my voice cracking slightly as I tried to sit up.
Though there were no wars or outside threats, Adar joined the Legion the moment he was old enough. But his time with the Legion would eventually come to an end when Papa decided to step down as the coven’s Father—though the true reason for Adar leaving could never come out.
“No. I have something else I have to do today.” He avoided my gaze, his tone carefully measured. I narrowed my eyes. Adar wasn’t the best liar, but he rarely gave me enough to catch him outright. Still, I didn’t press him. I was too hungry to argue, especially if sweet bread and grape jam were waiting.
It took me a while to make it to my wardrobe, considering every step I took sent pain radiating throughout my body. I silently cursed Papa for the torture he was forcing me to endure. He may have stopped the bleeding as soon as he found me on the doorstep, but he left every other injury.
Quite possibly the worst part: I couldn’t fix my hair. Thank the gods I had no plans to see anyone today.
It took me even longer to walk down the small hall to our kitchen. The smell of baked sweet bread, warm and inviting, wafted through the house and pulled me forward despite the ache in my side. The kitchen was small but comforting, with a large wooden table in the center, its surface worn smooth from years of use. Copper pots hung from the walls, catching the morning light that streamed in through the small window above the wash basin. Herbs—lavender, thyme, and rosemary—dangled from the rafters, their earthy scents mingling with the sweetness of breakfast.
“Good morning, Winnie!” Mama chimed as I shuffled into the room. Her voice was bright, her hands busy arranging plates on the table. She moved with precision, her skirt swishing softly as she leaned over to set a glass of water at my spot. Her black hair, neatly braided down her back, moved with every motion of her hips as if they were connected.
I took another step forward as I studied Mama. She had been so upset yesterday and yet here she was, acting like her usual self.
I glanced at Adar who leaned casually, a knife in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other. He shrugged his shoulders as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Where’s Papa?” I asked.
“He’s meeting with the coven,” Mama replied, her voice softer now, almost distracted. She turned to stir something on the stove, the clang of the spoon against the pot punctuating her words.
“The entire coven?” I slid onto a chair, wincing as the motion sent a jolt of pain through my ribs. The wood beneath me felt hard and unyielding, a reminder of my bruises. My fingers brushed against the glass of water, its coolness grounding me.
“No, just a few men from each of the areas.”
“Why aren’t we at the meeting? Or at the very least Adar, if this is some men only thing,” I pressed, ignoring the throb in my side. The savory and sweet scents around me did little to calm my growing frustration.
“You need to heal,” she said firmly.
“Well, what is it about?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Adar let out a soft snort, quickly muffled by another bite of his apple. The faint crunch of the fruit echoed in the otherwise quiet room, grating against my already frayed nerves.
“Vampire hunting,” Mama said after a brief hesitation .
I shot her a glare. “What?”
She placed the spoon down before walking to me. “Your father thinks the witches have slacked on their duty of hunting. He is creating assignments and having them go out more.”
Why did I tell them what I was doing?
I lathered a piece of bread with grape jam, the sticky sweetness clinging to my fingers as I spread it thickly across the slice. The tangy burst of grape hit my tongue as I shoved it into my mouth, the texture rich and comforting, even as my thoughts churned.
“Are you sure you aren’t going to Market with me today?” Mama asked Adar, turning her attention to him.
“No. I think I should stay and take care of B.”
I cut my eyes at him. I did not need anyone taking care of me.
Mama kissed his cheek before she nodded and walked out of the door.
Adar walked over to me and placed his hands on my wound.
“Ow! What are you doing?” I said just before a tingling sensation went over the wound, healing it immediately. His palms were warm, roughened by years of training and swordplay, but there was a gentleness in his touch that surprised me.
I took in a deep breath, something I had been avoiding, but it had never felt as good as it did now. The air was cool, sharp as it filled my lungs, yet it carried a strange sense of relief that coursed through my body.
I let out a sigh. “You held onto that magic since yesterday?”
He nodded, slicing another piece of the apple before tossing it into his mouth. “You’re welcome.”
I glared at him. “And you couldn’t have healed me before now?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Papa said to wait. He said you needed to at least suffer for a little while. Especially after what you told Mama.”
I scoffed and put another piece of bread in my mouth.
“Go change.”
“What?” I asked as I glanced down to see what could possibly be wrong with what I was wearing. Not to mention I’d never ask Adar for his opinion on my dresses.
“Go put on your leathers.”
Those words had me jumping out of my chair without another word.
“What are we doing, Adar?” I asked as I stepped into the sunlight, tying my hair back into a braid.
Adar tossed a sword my way, and I barely caught it by the hilt. Had he lost his mind? If I would’ve been a second off with my catch, it would’ve sliced my fingers off.
“Considering you got knocked on your ass, I’d say I’ve slacked on our lessons,” he said. His words stung, not because they were harsh, but because they rang true. My grip on the sword tightened as a flicker of frustration coursed through me. I couldn’t stop picturing that night—the helplessness, the cold fear creeping up my spine.
“You need to be better.” He motioned me to follow him to the small open area of our yard that wasn’t overgrown with hawthorn bushes.
“I don’t think a sword would have stopped what happened last night,” I replied as we stopped.
He came down with his sword. I barely blocked it, realizing I might have become a little rusty. I blamed that on him, though .
“No, but your instincts were off.” He swung again, and I turned just before contact.
“Why does it matter? I might as well ask Papa to build me a tower and lock me up with the horses. At least they don’t judge me for sneaking out.”
He dropped his arm that was holding the sword and shook his head. “You know Papa better than anyone. His main goal is to get rid of the vampire problem we have. Why would he prevent one of his best assets from hunting them now that he knows you want to? He just needs time to cool off. So until I go back to camp, I’m going to make you a little more prepared.”
“But this doesn’t matter.” I waved the sword in my hand. “I can use magic.”
“And if you come across a human that sees a witch and wants to kill you?” Another hit, but I dodged it and hit him in the side with the flat part of the blade.
I shook my head as I mentally noted that the score was me: one and annoying know-it-all brother: zero. “The only humans I have come across in the night are being drained of their blood, and I don’t think they could put up much of a fight.”
“So you’ve never seen a . . . member of the Legion during your hunts?”
I took a step back. “What are you talking about?”
He ran a hand through his hair, the movement slow and deliberate, as if he were untangling more than just his thoughts. His eyes flicked to the trees, then back to me, a flicker of something—hesitation?—crossing his face. It wasn’t like him to hold back, and the silence stretched between us, gnawing at my patience. He used to tell me everything.
Back then, it felt like we were conspirators against the world, laughing at Papa’s rules and whispering secrets under the moonlight. But now? Every word felt carefully chosen, every glance like he was measuring whether I was ready to know more. Since he’d joined the Legion, it was like a wall had grown between us—one he didn’t seem interested in tearing down. And yet, here he was, training me, guarding me, as if trying to shield me from something I couldn’t see. I hated him for it, but I hated needing him even more.
But how angry could I truly be when I made sure I chose a top with a high collar to cover the scars on my neck?
He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes scanning the ground as though the answers he sought were buried there. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until finally, he spoke.
“Do you really think we spend all of our time drinking?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost reluctant. “The threats may have stopped from outside the kingdom, but it has only gotten worse within. The vampire population is growing, and the Legion’s priorities have changed. And if a member saw you in the night . . . You don’t have the ability to just disappear unless you have a source.”
“Does Papa know this?” My voice was sharper than I intended. My mind raced, piecing together the implications. The coven hunting vampires was dangerous enough, but if the Legion was watching . . .
I swallowed hard. If they ever saw magic—
“Of course he does, B!” Adar’s tone snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. He shot me a look, half disbelief, half exasperation. “Who do you think had me join the Legion in the first place?”
My stomach twisted, the answer settling in before he said it. I stared at him, waiting for the final blow.
“He needed someone on the inside.”