22. 20
20
Thorn
I kneel beside the nest of blankets where Luna still slumbers, her breaths slow and even. The gash on her flank has closed thanks to my healing magic, though it will be some time before she regains her strength. I brush my fingertips over her soft fur. Our connection remains intact.
“Rest easy, my friend,” I murmur. “I will return soon.”
Rising, I make my way to the door at the sound of a cheerful rap. I open it to find Princess Audrey practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with Draven standing behind her, hands in his pockets.
“Hello,” Draven says, a small dimple appearing in his cheek. “We’ve come to escort you to the Winter Festival, if you’ll oblige us. ”
“Oh, please say yes! We talked about it at tea, and we’re free this evening.” Audrey claps her hands excitedly. “It’s simply magical this time of year. We’ll show you all the best shops and treats.”
I hesitate, glancing back at the sleeping Luna. The pull of exploring the festival finally wins out, and being away from my cottage, I need to find a place to restock on a few things that I’ve run out of.
“It would be my honor then.” I incline my head politely.
“Wonderful! Now we must find you a truly stunning gown for the ball this week. Can’t have you on my brother’s arm looking anything less than breathtaking.”
I duck my head self-consciously. “You flatter me, but I’m afraid my budget is small. With the unexpected stay, I didn’t have much on me to begin with. I do need to find an apothecary, though. There are a few items I need to stock up on soon.”
“Nonsense. No escort of mine shall be seen in anything but the height of fashion. Draven here will purchase everything you need. Might as well enjoy the perks of being a prince’s mate even if you haven’t accepted him yet. ”
I catch Draven’s amused glance.
“Best not to argue with her on matters of style,” he stage-whispers.
I grab my heavy woolen cloak and wrap it close before following Audrey and Draven out into the torch-lit hallway. Our footsteps echo off the soaring stone walls as we make our way through the maze of corridors. Frosty air kisses my cheeks when we emerge into a courtyard blanketed in fresh powder.
Icicles drip from archways, and stately fir trees dot the grounds strung with lamps that cast a warm glow. The full moon shines brightly overhead, lighting our path across the frozen cobblestones. In the distance, the sounds of music and laughter float on the night breeze.
We pass through an imposing iron gate onto a bustling thoroughfare lined with colorful stalls. Villagers wrapped in furs browse wares by the light of crackling braziers and glowing crystal lanterns—baked goods steaming in the chill, handcrafted toys, and wreaths of holly berries.
Audrey guides me toward a wider avenue where more elaborate shops stand. Flags snap in the wind above storefronts adorned with garlands of pine boughs and ribbons. I take in the sights and sounds of the unfamiliar festival market with muted awe, reminded of more carefree days from my past. The mouthwatering scents and Audrey’s infectious enthusiasm slowly thaw my wariness. For the first time since my reluctant return, I let down my guard and allow myself to enjoy the holiday magic.
My senses come alive, reminded of long-ago visits to my village’s humble market with my mother. I lose myself for a moment in memories of hiding in the skirts, clutching her hand as she bartered.
“Ah, here we are!” Audrey tugs me toward an elegant storefront decked in emerald silks and golden filigree. “Madame Claire’s shop. She’s simply the best.”
Bells jingle merrily as we step inside the dressmaker’s lavish showroom. Bolts of sumptuous fabrics shimmer under flickering gas lamps—satins in every hue, lush velvets, and finely embroidered taffetas. Audrey cajoles me onto a raised dais in the center of the room as the proprietress sweeps in.
“What treasure have you brought me today, Highness?” Madame Claire circles me appraisingly.
Audrey beams. “Draven’s escort for the ball. We simply must make her the envy of every lady at court. ”
“Hmm, yes, she has fine bones and coloring. I know just the design.”
Soon, I am caught up in being draped with silks and taffetas as they discuss styles and colors. Audrey selects a deep emerald green velvet that complements my complexion. The proprietress works swiftly, pinning and marking while her assistants wrap me in the sumptuous fabric.
Watching silently off to the side, Draven catches my uncertain glance. “Just go with it,” he whispers behind his hand. “She adores playing dress-up.” His crooked smile emboldens me to indulge their enthusiasm.
I stand stiffly on the dais as the proprietress pins and drapes the emerald velvet over me. Despite the sumptuous softness, my skin prickles with unease. This bond between Draven and I feels like a silken cord cinching tighter, slowly suffocating my will.
I chance a glance in his direction. He lounges against the wall watching me, mercury eyes bright with interest. A subtle smile plays about his lips, even before his eyes lock with mine. It’s like the air is sucked from the room. Heat spreads up my neck as the mate-bond thrums between us .
The proprietress circles around me, tutting and adjusting the gown’s drape, but all I can focus on is Draven’s unrelenting stare. The training of decades spent concealing myself is the only thing keeping me upright and outwardly composed.
“You’ll be the envy of every lady in the kingdom, my dear,” the proprietress declares.
That snaps me out of my trance enough to turn woodenly toward the mirrors. The gown and my reflection are exquisite, but they belong to a stranger, someone whose hand fate has not dealt so unkindly.
When Audrey insists on more dresses, I silently comply.
Draven steps away from the wall, but his eyes remain fixed on mine in the mirror. It’s as if he is memorizing every line of my face. It takes all my will not to shudder at the intimacy of his gaze. No one has seen me so bare, without my protective masks, in longer than I can recall. I drop my eyes, praying for strength against the persistent pull of the bond I never asked for.
Before long, I am spun around to view myself in the mirrors. The woman staring back looks like a stranger—regal, graceful…lovely even. Unfamiliar warmth blooms in my chest.
“Utterly perfect!” Audrey declares. “We will take it along with three day gowns in lighter silks.”
I start to protest the expense, but Draven walks to me and presses a finger gently to my lips. “Please, allow me this small gift. It is the least I can do for my honored escort.”
The sincerity in his dark eyes silences any argument, and his touch ignites my skin. Only centuries of practiced control keep me from betraying the riotous effect he has on my traitorous heart.
I give a mute nod, afraid to trust my voice.
We take our leave once measurements are finished and stroll the market as the stalls begin lighting their lanterns. The sweet scents of roasted nuts and mulled cider hang heavy in the chilled air as we meander down the winding lane of stalls. Vendors pack away their wares, wishing lingering customers good cheer for the season in gravelly voices. Audrey presses piping hot potato cakes and candied violets into my hands as we walk, keeping up a steady stream of delighted chatter.
I nibble the familiar treats dutifully, only half listening as I peer down shadowy side streets in search of a familiar sign. My supply of asrbloom tea is dwindling faster than expected. Already, I feel the subtle scratch of thirst creeping up my throat, a constant companion I’ve learned to ignore over the centuries. I need to restock my ingredients before the thirst overwhelms me and I’m revealed as being more than just a witch.
Up ahead, a crooked storefront finally catches my eye—weathered timber framed by dark bottles and drying herbs. A tattered awning bears the image of a mortar and pestle. Promising. I slip from Audrey’s arm and approach the window, scanning the interior by the light of a flickering brazier.
“Come along, Thorn,” Audrey calls out. “We must stop for cider before the vendors close down.”
“You go on ahead,” I reply distractedly, my focus still trained on the apothecary. “I’ll just be a moment.”
The shop bell chimes a rusty greeting as I step inside. My nostrils fill with earthy scents—pungent cloves, cinnamon sticks, and the bunches of dried lavender and chamomile hanging from the rafters.
The white-haired shopkeeper glances up from grinding some powdered concoction, blinking owlishly. “Can I help you find something, miss?” His voice creaks like an old door .
I offer a polite smile. “Evening to you. I’m in need of some rare botanicals. Perhaps you might have asrbloom pollen? Or weeping midnight blossoms?”
The old man’s bushy eyebrows lift in surprise. “Well now, those are quite exotic ingredients indeed. May I inquire what you aim to brew with such treasures?”
I hesitate, uncertain whether to reveal the truth, but the genuine curiosity in his eyes seems devoid of malice. “An herbal tea to subdue… certain cravings. The family recipe is generations old.”
He nods sagely, shuffling over to a shadowed shelf lined with intricate bottles. I hold my breath as he runs a liver-spotted finger along the labels, muttering under his breath. After an agonizing moment, he makes a satisfied grunt and retrieves two small jars.
“You are in luck, miss. My last pinch of asrbloom and a bundle of midnight buds.” He sets them gently on the counter. “Odd, though, it’s been nigh on fifty years since someone came inquiring after such curiosities. A woman much like yourself, now that I think on it…”
My breath catches sharply. This was an old haunt of mine .
The shopkeeper snaps his fingers. “Aye, that’s the one. Knew her way around elixirs and tonics better than most. Traded me a crate of feverfew and witch hazel in exchange for those same ingredients.”
I nod nervously, unsure how to answer.
“Your mother?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I simply nod. No need to correct his assumption.
He pats my hand gently. “Well then, in honor of your mother’s memory, please take these with my compliments.”
I open my mouth to protest such generosity, but the look of sincerity on his face stops me. Instead, I clasp his weathered hand in thanks. The precious jars are warm against my skin as I gather my new treasures to make the asrbloom tea once more.
Emerging from the shop, I find Draven lounging casually against the wall while Audrey flits between vendors cooing over trinkets. Though he’s seemingly at leisure, his piercing silver eyes find me instantly, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. The barely leashed power contained in the strong lines of his elegant frame reminds me he is no mere nobleman but a dangerous predator. I would do well to remember that.
“Find what you sought?” His voice remains neutral, but curiosity lurks beneath.
I nod, tucking the jars protectively in my satchel. “Yes, thank you. An apothecary well stocked with rare herbs.”
“And secrets, perhaps?”
I bristle under the weight of his scrutiny. He suspects there is more to my midnight tea than I’ve revealed, but I will not justify my private rituals to this near stranger, prince or no.
Chin lifted, I meet his gaze directly. “The only secrets worth keeping are those that harm no one.”
One dark brow lifts, an unspoken challenge.
Audrey’s cheerful voice dispels the sudden tension. “Come. The fireworks will be starting soon!” She tugs us eagerly toward the castle gates.
I let out a slow breath, jarred ingredients secure at my side as we are swallowed by the crowd. Their presence chases away the lingering chill inside.
Audrey leads us along the bustling festival thoroughfare, pausing now and then to exclaim over strings of glittering crystals or delicate paper lanterns in the shape of woodland creatures. The sweet scent of baking pies and roasted chestnuts hangs heavy in the chilled air. Up ahead, a cozy restaurant’s balcony beckons, framed by twinkling fairy lights.
“Oh, let’s stop here!” Audrey clasps her hands eagerly. “They have the most delicious hot cocoa, and we’ll have the perfect view for the fireworks.”
We follow her up the creaking wooden steps to find the balcony magicked to remain pleasantly warm, though snow-dusted fir trees sparkle just beyond the railing. Draven holds my chair before settling into his own. Audrey immediately launches into reminiscing about her favorite festival memories over the years as we wait for our hot chocolates to arrive. Steam rises fragrantly from the mugs topped with swirls of whipped cream and shavings of chocolate when the server presents them with a flourish.
I cradle the warm drink, letting the rich sweetness melt over my tongue. The subtle scratch of thirst stirs, but I force it back. Later, I will brew a fresh batch of asrbloom tea to calm my ever-present cravings. For now, I want to savor this moment of indulgence.
Beside me, Draven stretches his long legs out casually beneath the table. I’m suddenly very aware of his proximity, our knees occasionally brushing. His presence tugs at our mysterious bond like a persistent undertow.
I chance a glance at his sharp profile silhouetted against the glow of fairy lights and immediately regret it when his quicksilver eyes meet mine.
The air seems to crackle between us. Under the cover of the table, Draven’s fingers graze my knee in a feather-light caress that makes my breath catch. His hot gaze bores into me, full of promise and longing. I jerk my leg away, pulse racing in a disconcerting mix of fear and exhilaration. I cannot let him dismantle my defenses so easily. The risk is too great.“So, can I count on you to cover for me tonight?” Audrey asks her brother in a hushed voice.
Draven gives a theatrical sigh, though his eyes glint with amusement. “Yes, yes, I’ll provide an alibi should anyone come looking for my reckless older sister.”
Their conversation fades into background noise as I study Draven’s sharp profile in the fairy light glow. I know I should look away, but I’m helplessly drawn to him like a moth to flame .
I shiver at his heated gaze full of unspoken longing. This dangerous attraction threatens to dismantle all my defenses.
The charged moment is broken by a cheerful voice calling out, “Ah, here you all are! I’ve been searching the festival high and low.”
A man bounds up the steps to our balcony, flashing a grin that makes me melt a little.. Audrey sits up straighter, a pleased flush blooming on her cheeks though she clearly tries to appear nonchalant.
“Lord Anthony, allow me to introduce Thorn, our guest of honor this evening,” Draven says smoothly.
Anthony sweeps into an elegant bow and captures my hand, brushing his lips gallantly over my knuckles. “Thorn, of course! The courageous rescuer of our dear prince. Tales of your daring feat have spread far and wide, my lady.”
I duck my head self-consciously at the dramatic introduction. “You flatter me, my lord. I’m but a simple herbalist.”
“With an uncommon gift for appearing in the right place when needed most and a dash of magic I hear,” Anthony replies earnestly. His handsome face creases into a roguish wink. “I know I, for one, am grateful for your timely intervention on our prince’s behalf.”
I study the young lord with interest. His easy charm and familiarity with Draven hint at a longstanding friendship, but there is wisdom in his gray eyes belying his youthful appearance that suggests he has seen much in his life. His eyes have the subtle glow of immortality that all vampires have, but his perfection holds a few flaws showing that he hasn’t always been one. I sense a steadfast loyalty in him that goes beyond political alliance or social niceties. Very interesting. As far as I remember, the royal family is strict about the lines between the natural born and turned vampires, yet someone so close to Draven is clearly turned.
Anthony draws up a chair beside Audrey, and they soon fall into lively debate about the upcoming tournament, exchanging playful banter and subtle smiles. I watch the two interact with a bittersweet pang, reminded of what I will never allow myself to have. The glow on Audrey’s cheeks warms my heart all the same. Perhaps she has found her match in this steadfast lord. If her family will allow it.
Draven leans in close enough for me to catch his smoky, masculine scent. “Quite an eventful festival, is it not?” His mellifluous voice washes over me. “Does it bring back any fond memories for you?”
I toy with my mug, keeping my tone light. “It’s been many years since I attended any such celebrations.”
In truth, this city and I share history from another lifetime, but some secrets are best kept close.
Sensing my reticence, Draven changes tack. “For me, this festival always brings back memories of childhood misadventures.” His smile turns wistful with nostalgia. “One year, I slipped my minders and ended up causing all sorts of mayhem with some local village boys. Hiding in vendors’ stalls, pelting each other with snowballs, pilfering treats…”
I can easily imagine a younger, wilder Draven creating such hijinks. The mental image makes me bite back an amused smile. “Now that I can readily believe, my prince. You seem to have maintained that penchant for mischief.”
“Only when there’s adequate temptation.” His glittering eyes pin me in place.
Before I can craft a retort, the first firework whistles into the sky in a glittering arc of emerald sparks. We turn our attention to the colorful display bursting overhead, bathing upturned faces in vibrant hues. I let the tranquility of the moment wrap around me like a comforting cloak. The nostalgia and cheer of the festival have softened my ever-present wariness, if only for this one night.
As the finale lights the sky with cascading gold, I meet Draven’s gaze again. This time, there is only quiet wonder in his expression that surely mirrors my own.
“Thank you,” I murmur, “for this small window back to lighter days.”
Something solemn moves in his face at my unguarded words. Slowly, Draven’s fingers entwine with mine where they rest atop the table, and I find myself allowing it. The tangled connection between us thrums, at once terrifying and exhilarating in its rightness. I know, come morning, I will fortify my defenses once more, but under the fairy lights, cloaked in the magic of this night, I relinquish just an inch of the iron grip on my heart. It feels like coming up for air after an age submerged.
When Draven brushes his lips over my knuckles in a featherlight caress, I close my eyes to memorize the liberating sensation. This gift, I will allow myself to keep.