Chapter 2 #3
“What?” I gasped, clutching the bodice more tightly. “No.”
“It’s dangerous to keep it here. There are times when we’re both away from the cottage. All it takes is one busybody neighbor or determined peddler to uncover our secrets.”
I swallowed the urge to remind her that she’d dismissed Cyprio as a nonthreat. “You said it was worth a king’s ransom. We can’t destroy it.”
My mother frowned as she seemed to think it over. “Its value lies in the gems. We could remove them.”
I tipped my head down, my gaze on the glittering black stones. As the sunlight fell over them, the red centers appeared to dance like flames.
“Dragonstones,” my mother said softly. She brushed her fingers over a spray of gems and met my eyes. “Mined from the heart of a dragon. The gems are rare even in Nocta, now that the dragons have disappeared.”
Inexplicably, an ache shot through my chest. If my luck held, I’d never cross the Feyline. It was silly to mourn the loss of something I never would have seen anyway. But somehow, knowing a majestic creature no longer existed was a blow all the same.
“Maybe the dragons left with the elves,” I said.
Legend told that the elves had once lived all through Nocta and Ghedda.
Likewise, magic had thrived in both realms. The elves had pitied the humans forced to live as prey, so they created the Feyline and forced all magic into Nocta.
But they didn’t anticipate that the concentration of magic would be thick enough to mute the sun and plunge Nocta into twilight.
No longer subject to the sun’s whims, the vampires rose to power.
They supplanted the elves, who withdrew to a plane accessible only to them.
Not everyone believed that story, and few cared to contemplate it. To most Gheddans, the Feyline was like the sky: It had always existed, and they were content to let it remain a mystery.
Mama offered a soft, sad smile. “Perhaps they did.” Her smile faded as she focused on the gown once more. “I’ll take it downstairs and remove the stones. I’ll put the rest on the burn pile.”
An image of the elegant gown shriveling next to our kitchen scraps sprang into my head. When I made no move to hand the dress over, Mama reached out and gently tugged a thick lock of dark hair that had spilled over my shoulder.
“It’s for the best, Corinthe. I was a fool to keep it. We have a nice life here. I know it can be boring at times, but having experienced adventure, I can wholeheartedly say that boring is better. It’s safe. And all I want—all I’ve ever wanted—is to keep you safe.”
I couldn’t argue with that. My mother had worked tirelessly to provide for us, grinding herbs until the candles burned to nothing and dawn crept over the horizon.
Men from town had attempted to court her.
But she’d turned them all away. She scraped and sacrificed, and she never complained.
I’d never for a moment felt unloved or unwanted.
She was right. The gown was a threat to the stability she’d given everything to build.
Wordlessly, I handed it over.
“I’ll find a safe place for the stones,” she said. At my nod, she went to the stairs, her back as slender and straight as a girl’s.
“Mama,” I said suddenly.
She turned, the gown’s voluminous black skirt concealing the plain linen dress she wore when she gathered herbs.
It took me a minute to find the right words, and even then, they emerged low and awkward. “I didn’t mean— I shouldn’t have asked you to relive painful memories. I’m sorry I brought up the past.”
“I’m not.” Her shoulders rose and fell once in a sigh. “I told myself it was better if you didn’t know. But I raised you to think for yourself. The truth is important, my love, even when it hurts. We ignore pain at our peril. Deny it long enough, and it can spread and kill you.”
I nodded.
“I found thistleweed in the forest. I can season the venison with it. We’ll have an early dinner.”
“That sounds good,” I said.
She left. Several moments later, the snip of her sewing scissors drifted up the stairs.
L ong after dinner, I was no closer to sleep than I’d been when I changed into my nightgown and kissed Mama good night.
I lay on my back in bed, my gaze on the beamed ceiling and my head spinning with the day’s revelations.
I never asked my father’s name.
After the sound of Mama’s scissors ceased, the cottage’s back door had opened and closed. Then the scent of smoke had teased the air. Neither of us had said anything about the gown as we sat before the hearth with the venison between us.
We said nothing about my father, either. I told her of meeting Duncan in town. She suggested that I tell him he should marry Tess, and we laughed over sweet cakes while Mama separated her herbs.
But my questions remained—and now they burned hotter. Like the red hearts in the centers of the dragonstones, they were impossible to ignore.
Had my father ever laughed? Was he capable of kindness? I couldn’t ask my mother, who had fled the cliff’s edge before it could topple her into the sea. No one is good or bad. But Cyprio was human. He knew nothing of vampires. Possibly, I knew even less.
The blood I’d taken from Mama still coursed through my veins, heightening my senses and lending me strength.
I’d been careful not to hold my cutlery too tightly at dinner lest I snap it in half.
Outside, the leaves stirred as a breeze played through the trees’ branches.
Moonlight glowed around the window’s frame and between the shutters, which I’d latched against the night.
Downstairs, my mother’s breaths were deep and even.
I flung back the blankets and stood. For a moment, indecision ruled me.
Then, before I could lose my nerve, I grabbed my robe from the end of the bed, thrust my arms into the sleeves, and padded down the stairs.
My mother was a light sleeper, but I was even lighter on my feet.
Flushed with blood, I moved in and out of the shadows, my night vision as clear as it was during the day.
The door posed a challenge, but I took my time, and I slipped into the moonlit night with a sigh of relief. A mix of fear and expectation replaced it as I crossed the grass in bare feet, my gaze on the burn pit with its ring of river stones. Steps away from it, I stumbled to a halt.
No.
It couldn’t be.
The gown lay in the center of the pit, the fabric whole and unburnt.
The long, lush skirt gleamed in the moonlight as if someone had spread it out like a bride’s trousseau.
But that was impossible. I’d seen the smoke rising from the ashes through the kitchen window as I mixed the batter for the sweet cakes.
Dew clung to my ankles as I moved forward, my heart kicking against my ribs. Dozens of tiny holes dotted the gown—further proof my mother had followed through on her decision. She’d removed the dragonstones and burned the dress.
And somehow, it had remade itself.
The gown shivered. Slowly, dots of red swelled and filled the holes. Black formed around the edges and solidified. Between one heartbeat and the next, new dragonstones glittered under the moon.
A whisper of sound brought my head up sharply. Cyprio Kormaz stood on the edge of the forest a dozen feet away, King Hubert’s livery replaced with dull brown clothing that allowed him to blend in with the trees.
He glanced at the gown and smiled, displaying the gap between his front teeth. “I guess it was a new dress you wanted after all.”
I turned and ran toward the cottage. Something hard struck me in the shoulder.
Pain exploded across my back, and I stumbled.
I twisted as I fell, hoping to land on my back so I could keep him in my line of sight.
But he was faster than he looked. As my shoulders hit the ground, he tossed something at me.
Silver flashed, and a chain landed across my stomach.
Fiery pain seared my abdomen. I thrashed, trying to escape the agony.
Another flash of silver. More links fell over my thighs. A sizzling sound reached me, followed by the sickly stench of burned flesh. My nightgown had ridden up, and one of the links touched my bare skin.
Weakness spread through me, and my vision darkened at the edges. Too much silver. I couldn’t pass out.
Cyprio crouched next to me, his bald head haloed by the moon. He pulled down my nightgown, his touch almost solicitous as he tucked the fabric between my skin and the silver chain. That done, he met my gaze.
“Wouldn’t want to damage the merchandise,” he said with a wink.
I glared, helpless to resist as impotent rage seared a hot path through my chest.
“As I told you when we met, Miss Trevil, I like money. And you’re going to fetch me quite a lot of it.” He pulled a third length of chain from somewhere and draped it over my hips.
Pain sank its claws in deep. My mouth stretched in a silent scream.
When oblivion came for me, I rushed into its arms.