Chapter 59
Maeve
WHEN I OPEN MY EYES, morning sunlight is slipping around the edges of the drapes, sending golden light inching across the pale walls. And for a moment, I don’t know where I am.
Then I remember: I’m home for Yule break, in the childhood bedroom I grew up in.
I shift under the warm blankets and reach under the pillow, where Isis is curled up, still fast asleep. I stroke a fingertip over her head, then sit up slowly and yawn.
My gaze tracks across the room: a bookshelf crammed with books, an old trunk full of childhood memories, the picture of our family that I painted when I was just a girl, still hanging on the wall. The space feels smaller than I remember, like I’ve finally outgrown it.
Downstairs, I can hear movement. It’s probably my stepfather, Edwin.
He’s always up before my mother, brewing tea and stoking the fire.
But one thing he shouldn’t do is attempt to make breakfast; he and my mother are both terrible at cooking, which is why Aric and I got good at it when we were growing up.
So I should probably get down there and get some food started.
With another yawn, I push the blankets back and swing my legs over the side of the bed.
The wooden floor is cold under my bare feet as I walk across the room to my armoire and begin to dress for the day: soft cotton pants, a sweater my grandmother knit for me last Yule, and chunky socks.
I move to my vanity and take a seat, intending to brush and braid my hair.
As soon as I sit down, I feel a tug in my chest.
Severin.
It feels like he’s calling out to me, saying good morning across the miles of distance between us. And it brings a smile to my face—until I remember what he said up on the Skyreach Spire.
It may extend your lifespan. Beyond what a human life should be.
When he told me the full truth of what he’d learned, I was only somewhat surprised.
Somehow, it felt deep inside like I knew this could be a possibility, even before he spoke the words.
I was already aware that a permanent fusing of the blood bond could change me, alter the pull of my magic—the pull of my heart.
And vampires live for hundreds of years, many more than humans and witches and most other species.
If our bond fuses permanently, it may give me more years with Severin. Decades, even.
But is that what I want? To live such a long life, far beyond what I naturally should?
I pick up my hairbrush and meet my eyes in the vanity mirror as I begin to pull it through my tangled hair, working gently on the snarled strands, smoothing them out.
With each whisper of the brush through my hair, I turn the possibility this way and that, trying to examine it from different angles.
More years. More time. Not just with Severin, but in this world. I’d be alive long enough to watch many more seasons come and go, long enough to see all of those I love grow older . . . and eventually fade.
The hairbrush stills in my hair.
The concept is difficult to grasp, and the reality of it settles inside my chest.
More time, but a different kind of time. A life that would no longer walk in tandem with those around me.
Once more, my gaze drifts to the painting on the wall: me, my mother, Aric, and Edwin. The lines are uneven, the proportions wrong, the colors bright. A feeling captured in time. And that time feels so far away now, like I’ve already started to outgrow it.
But I suppose we outgrow most things. The only constant in life is change, after all.
And change is coming for me. I’ll graduate from Coven Crest next semester, and after that . . .
I’m not sure what comes after that. Work with the Arcanum Collective, hopefully. But apart from that, my life is unplanned, open to the wills of fate.
Open to change.
I pull the brush through my hair again, then set it on the vanity as I turn my focus to my reflection in the vanity mirror.
Severin wouldn’t ever force this on me. If we permanently fuse our bond—if he’ll even allow it—it will be because of me. It will be my choice.
My fingers move to my chest, press gently against the spot where I feel the thread of connection, even now, with many miles of distance separating us.
I think of how the bond feels when we’re together, alive and warm and full of joy.
And I think of my magic, of the magnetic pull it feels toward him, even since that very first day, like it knew something of my fate that I didn’t, like it was trying to guide me to . . .
To my future?
My breath leaves me slowly.
If our bond fuses, it would be me choosing to become something new.
Something different. And the idea doesn’t frighten me as much as I thought it would.
Not when I think of him, of what we could have together.
Not just more time, but more possibilities, more potential.
Something that runs deeper than I ever thought possible.
Something that bonds us by blood, by every beat of our hearts.
I don’t have to decide today. I have as much time as I want. But deep inside my chest, the bond stirs faintly, and as I take a slow breath, I know the direction my heart is leaning.
And I’m tempted to let it lead the way.
THAT AFTERNOON, I’M CURLED UP on the couch with Isis, reading a book, when my mother steps into the sitting room, a few letters held in her hands. Immediately, I shoot upright on the couch, making Isis hiss in irritation when I bounce her on the cushion.
“Is there anything for me?” I ask, pulse skipping in anticipation.
My mother arches a dark brow at me, then begins shuffling through the letters. The moment she holds up a thick cream envelope, I launch off the couch to snatch it from her.
“Is that from the castle?” she asks as I snag it from her fingers.
I look down at the purple wax seal with a raven in the center. And on the front of the envelope is my name in Alina’s pretty handwriting.
“It’s from Alina,” I say as I pad back around the couch and sink onto the soft cushions.
My mother lets out a small sigh. “You girls have only been on holiday for a few days, and you’re already writing to each other.
” As she walks behind the couch on her way to the kitchen, she pauses to stoop and press a kiss to the top of my head.
“I hope these friendships follow you into adulthood,” she says softly, almost wistfully.
“Goddess knows mine didn’t.” Then she continues into the kitchen.
I rip the envelope open without bothering to fetch the letter opener. Then I pull out the letter inside and begin to read.
Maeve,
Of course you can use the cottage; it’s yours whenever you want it. It’s quiet there in the winter—so quiet it’s easy to forget that life even exists outside its walls. That’s one of the reasons I love it so much.
The cottage is almost impossible to find, and the roads to get there will be snowed in at this time of year. Raelan can take you. He says he’ll meet you at the crossroads on Birchwind Road two days after Yule, at midday.
Take care of yourself. And take care of him too, if that’s what this is about. I’ll have many questions for you when we’re back at Coven Crest.
With love,
Alina
P.S. Firewood’s stacked in the shed out back. Don’t start storms indoors; I just fixed the water damage. —Raelan
My lips curl up into a slow smile. I wasn’t sure if Alina would be okay with me using the cottage, but I realize now I shouldn’t have worried.
I offer my hand to Isis, and she slithers up my chunky sweater to coil herself around my neck, her head resting in the dip of my throat. Then I rise from the couch and hurry up the stairs to my room, where I close the door before sitting down at my old desk beneath the window.
Afternoon sunlight streams in, golden and joyful despite the ice clinging to the windowpanes. I pull a fresh sheet of parchment from my desk, dip my quill into my inkwell, and begin to write.
Severin,
Meet me at the crossroads on Birchwind Road at midday two days after Yule. Pack for a short trip. You did say you trust me, right?
—Your Storm
When the ink dries, I fold the letter carefully, slip it into an envelope, and seal it with a small dab of wax. Then I hold it in my hands, and deep in my chest, the bond flickers.
It’s like I carry Severin with me wherever I go, or like I have my own personal fire flickering with warmth just beneath my sternum.
“Have you made your decision?” Isis asks, her tongue tickling my skin.
During the carriage ride back home, I told her what Severin had said on the spire.
“No,” I admit softly. My gaze drifts to my bedroom window. Outside, snow-dusted rooftops glitter in the sunlight, and chimneys send lazy puffs of smoke curling into the pale blue sky. “It would change everything,” I continue. “The shape of my life. The time I have. The people I’d lose . . .”
Isis is quiet for a moment. Then she says, “Is that what you fear most? Loss?”
My fingers tighten around the letter. “Maybe. I guess so.”
“Loss is part of life,” she says. “You cannot live without losing. It is the balance.”
I reach up to stroke my fingers along Isis’s glossy scales. “You know what it’s like. When you bonded with me, it changed your lifespan.”
“Yes. My life is twined with yours now.” She shifts, coiling a bit tighter around my neck, her version of a hug. “I’ll be with you until the end.”
I nibble my bottom lip. “Was it difficult for you to make that decision?”
She’s quiet for a moment, then says softly, “No.”
My heart warms at her conviction. “Why not?”
“Because I knew I was gaining more than I would lose. I was given an opportunity to experience more—to be bound to something meaningful. To have a connection deeper than most will ever feel.”
Her words settle over me slowly. My vision mists over with tears.
Isis chose this, chose to bond with me, chose to forego her typical lifespan for mine, to be with me until our last breath.
And she wasn’t afraid.
I lift one hand to my chest, press my fingers into the spot where I feel my bond with Severin.
And when I think of it, when I think of him, the fear inside me shifts. It feels less like I’d be losing something and more like I’d be choosing something else.
I draw in a slow breath.
I may not yet be ready to make a decision about the bond, but I know for certain that I want to take Alina up on her offer to use the cottage.
Standing from my desk, I move to retrieve my cloak from the hook beside the bedroom door. I clasp it about my neck, being careful to settle the fabric gently over Isis, then lift the letter from the desk and slip it into the inside pocket.
My gaze returns to the window, and for just a moment, I think I feel Severin doing the same, looking out into the twinkling snow bathing the kingdom in a blanket of glittering white.
And with him there, nestled inside my chest, I turn for my door, intending to catch up with the courier before he finishes his route.