Chapter 19
Gemma
I t was early afternoon, and I was plucking dead flowers from the underbrush of the rotting vines, tossing them haphazardly behind me.
The thought of being inside the keep that day—even returning to the records room—filled me with restlessness.
I needed to be outside. I needed to be doing something with my hands, my attentions diverted, the sunlight warming my skin.
And it was a beautiful day too. A cool breeze swept through the terrace where I was working, bringing with it the brininess of the sea. The sun was high overhead, and my dress was beginning to cling to my back from the sweat.
For today I’d chosen a loose, thin material.
Which was a lucky thing, I realized shortly after I’d begun cleaning the banisters.
Because with every small, minuscule movement, the smooth fabric would brush Azur’s bite across my breast.
It didn’t hurt, but the flesh surrounding the two fang marks was overly sensitive.
Every touch against it brought a spark. A memory of awareness, of arousal and frustration spiraling through me.
I was confused. Terribly, desperately confused.
Which was why I didn’t want to be cooped up within the keep, no matter how desperately I wanted to continue sorting through the old lore records.
I didn’t want to feel desire and pleasure whenever Azur drank from me. I didn’t want to feel anticipation. Yet last night, I’d been holding my breath, impatient, as he’d taunted me.
I’d sparked that feeding. I’d pushed the subject of it because it had been easier than having to talk about my father and the sisters that I loved and had left behind.
There was another strange emotion I’d discovered too.
Because in the aftermath of Azur nearly flying out of the room, chasing after Kalia once she’d discovered us, I had felt my throat tighten. I had felt my belly lurch.
And the pinch .
The terrible pinch of what I knew was jealousy had alarmed me almost as much as my eager submission for Azur’s bite.
The betrayal on Kalia’s face had haunted me late into the night. I should’ve been grateful that her interruption had propelled Azur from the room—leaving me to process what had happened between us—only I wasn’t.
I felt like a damn mistress.
Something dirty.
Something hidden away.
Grumbling under my breath, I tore at some blackened vines that were wrapped around the legs of the banister. They were brittle in my palms and nearly disintegrated into dust when I tugged.
A shadow flew over me, briefly flickering the sun, dappled along the terrace’s worn stones.
Looking up, I didn’t see anything, and I wiped my sweaty forehead, likely smearing vine rot over my skin. My dress tightened uncomfortably around my legs when I shifted, and I grumbled again, wondering if I could make some pants and some loose tops, like Ludayn’s. Hers seemed more comfortable than—
A loud thomp just behind me nearly made me screech in alarm.
“ What are you doing? ” came the loud, anguished cry.
Kalia.
I froze as she came into view. Her hair was wind swept. Had it been her shadow I’d seen flying above?
“Good afternoon,” I found myself saying, my brain not quite caught up with my tongue, “I’m just—”
Her glare rivaled Azur’s, cutting me to the bone.
And that glare made me freeze all over, making my lips part.
Because for the first time, I could see something that I hadn’t before.
She and Azur had the same eyes.
The same exact eyes.
It was his glare spearing me right now.
“Oh,” I breathed, refusing to acknowledge the relief that spread through my chest at the realization. That was incredibly alarming. “Oh, gods, you’re—”
“Put them back!” Kalia growled. “Put them back now, and don’t touch these ever again!”
“Put them back?” I asked, still reeling. I frowned, looking down to the rot. “There is nothing to put back.”
When I looked up, I stiffened because tears had pooled in her gaze. Though she was glaring daggers at me, she looked like she was on the verge of breaking down.
“Kalia, I’m sorry,” I breathed. I didn’t understand what was causing this. “I’m trying to help them grow, not hurt them! Look at all the rot under here.”
I lifted a section I hadn’t yet reached. The underside of the banister was nearly stained black with it.
“I’m clearing it all out so more will grow,” I said hurriedly, seeing her examine the rot, blinking. “But these plants haven’t been tended to in a very long time. They need a little help, and then they’ll be even stronger than before, I promise.”
My words seemed to mollify her. It took long, tense moments of dragged out silence for her shoulders to finally slump forward. She prodded at a deadened vine with her booted foot, refusing to meet my eyes, even as she wiped at her silver-streaked cheeks.
And in that moment, she reminded me of Piper. Piper with her vibrant though mercurial emotions. She ran hot, but she could also be achingly sweet. Even shy.
Kalia’s gray skin looked lightened in the sunlight. Smooth like suede. Reaching forward, she touched a drooping bloom of one starwood flower, running her black, sharpened claws over the delicate petals.
“You know about plants?” Kalia asked me, her tone mistrustful, like I was lying to her. “Plants like these?”
Hesitantly, I said, “In the Collis, we had spreading vines that crawled up the walls of our house. They had these bright purple flowers that bloomed when it rained. Plants like these…they grow incredibly fast, so you need to be diligent about caring for them.” I let the bundle of dead vines drops to the terrace floor, hiding the decay one more. “Or else you end up with a tangled, overgrown mess like this. The vines can’t spread. They get choked out. And if they can’t spread, then new flowers can’t grow.”
I was peering at Kalia closely as I rambled. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before.
Kalia was his sister . Or a close relative at the very least. They had the same shade of black hair, which had a blue hue in the sunlight. The same eyes. Even her observant expression reminded me of him, the way he’d watch me like prey, tracking my every movement.
Only, on Kalia, it came across as mistrustfully curious. Not predatory.
I wanted her to like me, I decided. Because she reminded me of my own sister?
I was alone here. Except for Ludayn and Maazin, I rarely spoke to anyone else. The keepers gave me space, bowing their heads when I passed. And Azur…that was another kind of interaction entirely. He wasn’t my friend. Then again, he wasn’t quite the enemy I thought he’d be either.
“The starwood flowers are important to you?” I asked gently, cocking my head to the side.
Kalia sniffled. Her eyes flitted to me once, peering at me, before she looked away. Like she didn’t want to stare at me too long.
“They were my mother’s favorite,” Kalia finally said, a deep sigh escaping her. She seemed to shake herself, straightening her spine. When she did, she regarded me steadily, two of her small fangs peeking out behind her top lip. She really was quite beautiful. House Kaalium had strong, strong genes. It shamed me that I’d always pictured the Kylorr as hulking, terrifying, ruthless beasts before. I’d been very, very wrong. “She had a gift for these things. She tried to teach me to care for the plants. These and in her garden too. I never could. And now I wish I had listened to her better.”
There was a tendril of grief in her voice. Grief that I recognized well. It pulled at me, making me soften in a way that went beyond mere understanding.
“My mother died too,” I told her. Kalia regarded me carefully, though she blinked in surprise. “Five years ago. And every day I wish that I could revisit our memories. Because I’m sure she tried to teach me a lot and I didn’t know how to listen. Not then.”
Kalia processed my words, casting her eyes skyward for a brief moment in apparent thought. Then she looked back to me, even taking a step closer.
“We stopped having the flowers tended to last year,” Kalia admitted, kneeling beside me, reaching out to touch a deadened stalk I’d pulled earlier. She traced the withered fibers with her claws. “One of the keepers accidentally ruined an entire wall of them. I didn’t trust anyone else to touch them since.”
She gestured behind me, to my left. There was a little alcove in the stone wall that led down to the courtyard. A small bench was perched there, but behind it, the starwood flowers were simply gone. The stone was stained black where they’d once been.
“Azur promised me he wouldn’t let anyone else touch them. Because if they were destroyed…another part of her would be lost. These are memories of her,” Kalia said, reaching out to stroke one of the healthier vines. “Tethering her here. With us. They belong at the keep.”
I folded my hands in my lap. I felt a drip of sweat roll down my back, and when I shifted, I felt Azur’s bite spark against the material of my dress.
“I can understand why you were upset when you saw me tearing at them.”
Especially since she’d made it obvious she didn’t like me. If I’d been in her situation, I would’ve reacted worse. How would I feel if I saw someone digging around the lake on our estate?
“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before I touched them.”
“You can make them healthy again?” Kalia asked with hesitant hope in her voice.
Behind me, there was a pile of decay and dead, shriveled blooms. I scanned the perimeter of the terrace, which stretched almost as long as House Kaalium’s keep, not including the courtyard below. And there was still the western and eastern ends of the house that I hadn’t even explored yet. Kalia had said there was a garden? I wondered where.
A undertaking like this would take days, possibly even a week. I’d been determined to do it alone, considering I had a lot of time to fill.
“How about I teach you how to care for them?” I suggested. “My pruning method might be a little aggressive for your tastes, so we can be more gentle with the rest. And once you see that they start to bloom again and you know the vines aren’t being harmed, we can go back through and clean up the rest.”
Kalia looked bewildered. She blinked quickly. “You…you would do that?”
“It’s long work,” I warned her. I gave her a hesitant smile. “But there is something immensely satisfying in it.”
Kalia stared at me for a long time. Long enough to make me think I’d said or done something wrong.
But she wasn’t glaring at me. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t even frowning.
She was assessing me. Her gaze went to the starwood flowers.
“I would like that,” Kalia finally said, sighing, her shoulders dropping again. I felt her gaze drift downward, stilling on the column of my neck, and a part of me tensed when her lips pressed together. Because I knew she saw it. Azur’s bite. Not from last night, but the night before. It hadn’t quite healed yet, though it had nearly disappeared, strangely enough. “I’m sorry for yelling. And for last night,” she mumbled.
I adjusted an escaped tendril of my hair, hoping to shield a little of the bite mark, though I knew it was fruitless. Kalia seemed embarrassed too.
“Let’s forget about it,” I said quietly.
There was movement behind her, and my eyes sharpened on the keep. Specifically on a balcony of the west wing.
My breathed hitched.
Azur.
He was watching us.
Judging from the windows, the balcony was only two rooms down from the records room in the west wing. He had his hands braced on the stone ledge, his wings flared wide as if he’d just been about to take flight.
I realized he’d probably heard Kalia yelling and had come out to see what the commotion was.
Or he’d been watching you before then, came the stray thought.
Even from this distance, I could feel his eyes on me.
As if on cue, the mark at my breast burned and heated. The memory of pleasure—hot and tight and aching—returned, but I swung around quickly, firmly pushing it from my mind.
“Let’s get started,” I said, keeping my voice light and airy.
Kalia gave me a tentative smile in return.
If she noticed the way my skin heated, she didn’t comment on it.
It didn’t help that I could still feel Azur’s gaze on my back.