Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
“You can open your eyes now, Little Dove.”
A pair of warm hands strung across my lap with another pressed gently to the wound, long tapered fingers covered in my blood. Golden eyes searched mine, fierce and electrifying against my fading body.
The crumbled mess of the tower laid inches from my feet. A single pale hand stretched from the rubble, and gray stones covered the rest of the body. The taste of blood hung on my lips, and my grip on life was fading quickly.
Far away, Silas urged me to drink, words cutting through the blur of darkness before I took the plunge.
“Valeria, you need to drink. You need to—I can’t—I can’t lose you.
I love you. Come back and chastise me. Come back and throw harsh words at me.
Play me like the fool that I am. Just, please—don’t leave. ”
I pushed his wrist away, the strength I had earlier all but gone. I was slipping into the darkness and didn’t know if I was going to return. Vision tilting and blurring, I cupped his hand. “Silas”—I choked down fire—“your name—Vi et animo—the dragon crest . . .”
Silas cupped my cheek. “Shush, save your strength.”
“It can’t—” Blood was everywhere, swallowing the night sky whole and staining the land. “Blood spilled . . . upon a name . . .”
With a hand stained in blood, I held him, held him as the expansive darkness beckoned. I held him despite the cost.
For the last time, I had to be selfish.
I kissed him, the taste of blood and salt stinging my throat. When I released him, tears streamed down my cheeks as I uttered, “I . . . release you . . . Maven Drogos . . .”
“Valeria, no—NO!”
The darkness exploded into a bright white light.
Expansive and deep, the darkness rippled in a smooth cascade upon the distorted vision before me.
The further I moved through the scene, the more the light came into focus to a soft field covered in bright red tulips.
A woman stood alone. Burnt copper mingled with the summer wind as bright green gleamed at me with softness and assurance.
She stood by the willow tree, surrounded by blue water and sweet grass.
She reached for me, delicate fingers rough with callus shattered the dark space, taking a hold of my hand.
The light shifted, a ball of illumination mutating into the glow of the setting evening sun.
Rubble turned into waves as the willow tree’s soft limbs swayed.
I was in the field I had seen so often before, walking among tulips in the summer heat. The woman’s steady gaze never wavered and never shifted from the serenity ebbing from her.
“You saved him from the curse but at the cost of your life.”
When she spoke, the open air fell into cavernous echoes, whispering into the void.
She placed a small object into my hand and closed my palm before I could tell what it was. “You released us, but in doing so, you doomed yourself. A path you now must walk alone.”
A glow emitted from my palm, warmth and a sense of wholeness difficult to place as the pain and aches erased themselves. Skin stitched back together in a golden glow, pulsating beat by beat.
The woman’s form faded as light beamed into the field. Mournful, she clasped her hands together and watched as the world enveloped. The more I forgot—I forgot what pain was, what suffering was, I forgot how I ended up here, and I forgot the man who waited for me.
In the distance, the boy with raven hair walked to the man with hair as pure as driven snow.
Standing apart, their expressions were unreadable, but there was clarity in which they greeted another.
They exchanged unheard words, the boy nodding with an innocent smile.
It was as if they had been lost to each other, sharing in silence to an embrace as petals showered them.
Darkness licked at the edges of the meadow, and Cecilia’s sad smile followed me as the scene disappeared into the folds. Silas—Maven’s voice cut through with urgency and renewed energy, shaking the scenery to its core, distorting it further.
“Valeria, come back.”
The earth cracked, swallowing the boy and the man, beams fracturing.
Cecilia squeezed my palm. “Tell Maven I shall wait even if eternity passes and the fields are all but gone—I will wait. And, Valeria”—she planted a warm kiss onto my forehead and exploded into silver butterflies—“take care of him, will you?”
I opened my eyes to the blue sky and beautiful sunlight.
The smell of sweet incense tickled my nose, and the soft chirping of birds blared in my ears.
The bed underneath did little for my body, racked in pain as if I had torn my limb off and had sewn it back on.
The ache in the back of my throat was on fire.
Harsh sunrays streamed through broken windows, burning my eyes as my senses overloaded to the sights and sounds.
“You’re awake.”
At the edge of the bed sat a tense man. His blood sang to mine, heart thundering with anticipation or fear—hard to deduce as it roared.
It took me a moment to fully recognize the man sitting in front of me.
His long snow hair was gone, replaced by locks dark as night.
Bright golden eyes no longer stared back at me but instead were round, tear-rimmed midnight eyes.
Jagged white scars were prominent on his face, but there was no doubt I had encountered him in visions before and had haunted me since.
I sat up, clutching my throat, “Sil—Maven, I thought—where are we—”
His name was strange on my lips yet still tasted as it had been before.
The room was small and dank. Petrichor smothered the room in the same way dust had settled over the wood. It was familiar as my gaze landed on a large table full of herbs that sat undisturbed.
“The castle is gone,” Maven said as he rubbed at his knee.
“The ghosts, the villagers, Narcisa—are all gone. And um . . .” His throat bobbed as he took my hand in his, rubbing at the inner part.
“I carried you. I wasn’t sure if you were dead, and I hardly knew what to do.
All I could think about the entire way was that . . . you weren’t breathing.”
His words were laced in sheer agony.
He came closer, the scent of cloves and spice mingling with his blood. The thirst clouded my mind, and I gripped his arm, digging long nails into his blouse. Searing pain inflamed my gums, grazing his neck, and I sucked in a gasp.
“It’s a wonder you didn’t lose control. I’m so thirsty,” I breathed, body burned with need, with want and desire.
Maven took my hand, opening my palm to an object pressed against cool skin. The bloodlust drained out of my body. In my hand was a single red tulip crinkled from being held so tight.
I shuffled to the head of the bed, creating distance between what was and what is. I cleared my throat, the thirst grating against my vocal chords. “Cecilia said she was waiting for you.”
Maven plucked the flower gingerly from my hand. His expression was in disbelief as he glanced between us. Several long moments passed before he set the tulip down onto the nightstand and pulled me into an embrace.
“For whatever happened, I love you. That doesn’t change anything. I will love you with whatever time I have left. My life is in the palm of your hands for you to do whatever with.” He nuzzled my neck, and tears welled in my eyes as I struggled with the thirst.
“I love you.” I shook against him.
In an instance, his lips captured mine and sated the thirst burning through my chest. I plunged my teeth into his neck, Maven letting out a soft moan as I drank deeply. The sweet elixir invaded my body at rapid speed, and I saw everything that there was to see.
His life—our life unfolding with such tender care.
Tears fell in earnest, and I pulled away.
Maven’s heart beat roared in my ear, steady and strong.
His arm slackened to my side, rubbing at the sheer fabric of the blood-soaked dress.
He panted into my neck, and I held him—holding onto the last shred I had to this world.
“Valeria McCallister,” he mumbled into my ear, raspy and humorous. He kissed my neck, slow and reserved. “Will you do me the honor and give me your life in exchange for mine?”
I laughed. “I thought we already had.” I kissed him again, knowing that life was short and death so permanent.
Again and again, we devoured each other in that little cottage, reborn and no longer caged birds.