Seven Sisters
It had been three days since Dommik knelt for me.
Three agonizing days confined to his chambers.
With no windows, I tracked the hours through unconventional methods.
It took twenty-five minutes for Alba and I to complete a game of noddy.
I could polish off a bottle of wine on my own in roughly two hours.
And Alba drew scalding baths twice a day replacing the chiming bells that helped me keep time at the Southern Hive.
All in the name of hiding me while my cycle ran its course. It was as if I’d never shown up alongside the Southern Hive traveling party at all. No concern at my disappearance. No search party. And the most noticeable absence—no Rhazien.
I tried to ask about the regent, but Alba didn’t have any information.
With her permission, I’d even tried to conjure a vision from her.
It had been a failure. Either she was telling the truth, or Rhazien wasn’t wearing his preferred golden crown in any of her memories.
I chose to believe the former. I needed to believe my one confidant could be someone I could trust.
Dommik had yielded his chambers—my latest cage—and made himself scarce. The commander appeared once a day to confirm my safety and proof of life but limited our interactions.
“Are you well? Do you need anything else? Until tomorrow,” he’d ask during his swift visits, never coming close enough to be tempted to touch me.
The way he opted for averting his gaze rather than the lingering looks I expected from him was a noticeable change in behavior. I wondered if he felt ashamed.
In my time alone with nothing but the company of a decanter of wine and my thoughts, I replayed the moments. Sometimes savoring the memory, other times justifying it.
I was in a vulnerable state.
He couldn’t help himself. He needed to feed.
We wouldn’t let it happen ever again.
Was he living by a similar narrative?
“I may die of boredom,” I snipped at him during a particularly low moment. “Isn’t there anything to read in this Hive?”
“Hmm,” Dommik said, nodding to the floor. Single syllable responses made up most of our interactions.
The next night I woke to find a pile of parchment next to me. The top piece read The Forest and The Flame.
It couldn’t be. He couldn’t have.
Handwritten in scribbled black ink were three chapters of the book he’d gifted to me. Dommik mentioned he’d heard the story many times, not that he knew it well enough to write it from memory.
I tried to imagine Dommik, sitting amongst the debauchery of his old Hive, ignoring Valta and any other vampiric beauties that would throw themselves at him as he etched this story onto paper for me. He’d even remembered what chapter I’d left off on.
Below the title he’d written a small note: I hope you have a Lovely time reading this.
I shouldn’t have lit up at his nickname for me written in such an obvious place, but I did. And I did have a lovely time reading the pages he’d provided me. So much so, I read them twice.
On the third day, I’d picked up my own quill to write Rhazien a letter but ended up throwing it into the hearth.
The discomfort of my cycle only amplified my annoyance to full-blown anger and like an unmovable field ox, I decided I wouldn’t be one of those women.
Begging for a crumb of attention. Rhazien would come to me.
By my second bath on the third day, I’d decided I would make him crawl and grovel and beg for me to even consider throwing a glance in his direction, if I’d even agree to be in the same room as him.
Where the fuck was he?
And what the fuck has he been doing?
He needed me but he’d said I’d been his equal. Not a toy he could play with until he got bored. Not a tool to be disposed of after it completed its usefulness.
An equal. A queen.
Was this how other queens felt? Ignored? Abandoned? If so, I didn’t want it. Any of it.
Maybe it was nothing more than a transaction. I could have imagined our connection. Exaggerated our bond in my mind.
By the fourth day of my detention, I was a broken creature held together with rage and my unanswered questions caused me to foam at the mouth. The windowless room with no information and no prospect of when this sentence would end was worse than waiting for the axe in the Illica keep.
When Dommik finally came bearing news from Rhazien, I was baring my teeth.
“I’m not in a mood to be helpful,” I gritted from the lone chair next to the stone fireplace.
Dommik stood on the other side of the modest room, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to reason with me. “My lady. Please. We’re so close to leaving. Let’s just do this and—”
I put a hand up, silencing him. “Vampire business is vampire business. I am not a vampire. It’s not my business.”
The frustrated commander blew a sharp breath through his nose. “You’re Rhazien’s prospect.”
“Am I?” I snipped. “Really? How could that be when he’s nowhere to be found and I’m treated like a prisoner?”
Yours was the name I was moaning four nights ago, I thought but kept it to myself.
I sounded like an entitled brat and hated this version of myself. Weak, jealous, lonely, and wanting.
“He’s—” he began but stopped himself, clamping his lips together into a tight line.
I raised my brows. “He’s…he’s what?”
A whistling tea kettle was less shrill.
Dommik’s head dropped back and he groaned to the ceiling before sending me a pleading look. “He’s doing his job. He’s seeing to his responsibilities. His part of the plan. We need to see to ours.”
His dark brows were knitted together and his full lips were set into a slight pout.
Before I could think about all the reasons not to ask, I said, “Am I making a huge mistake?” I turned away immediately, unable to face the disappointment and judgment that I knew would be plastered over his face.
“About what?” We weren't touching, but I could feel his body just behind mine. Just as I could always feel when he was nearby or in the same room. I had a sixth sense for Dommik Thorne, one I couldn’t shut off or ignore.
I was naturally attuned to him, only bolstering my case that I was making all the wrong choices.
“About this? About everything?” I said to the opposite wall, tears pricking in the corners of my eyes.
“You need to be more specific,” Dommik said in a clipped tone. He looked haggard and tired. I wasn’t sure where he was sleeping or if he was sleeping since he’d relinquished his room to me.
“About Rhazien,” I blurted. “About being bound.”
Dommik’s lips pressed into a thin line and he rubbed the stubble on his chin as he pondered the question. “I don’t think I can weigh in on that.”
Immediate regret washed over me. “Of course. What was I thinking?” I shook my hands and tried to wave away my lapse in judgement. “I just—” I started, not sure if I could admit the next part of my thought.
“What?” he inquired during my elongated pause.
“I don’t have anyone to talk to. Like really talk to. About any of this.”
“You’re feeling unsure?”
Was that hope flickering through his gaze?
Yes. I didn’t say. I was too captivated by his hardened stare.
My regret doubled. I wanted to want what Rhazien wanted, but at this point it felt like a thankless task from an absent partner. I’d been there before. I didn’t want to exist in that place again.
The energy of the room shifted and the air became heavy as it strained to hold the weight of the said and unsaid things between us.
How long? How long would we continue to do this dance? How long could I continue to pretend like he wasn’t the thing holding me back for giving myself fully to Rhazien?
“No. I’m—” Defining my mess of feelings was like trying to hold water. They slipped effortlessly from my grasp, mixing into unsortable chaos. Better to just pretend I wasn’t affected by…well, everything. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
“Reyva…” Dommik’s brows knit together. My armor softened at the sound of my name on his lips. And softened further when he said, “We’ve talked about this. You don’t have to be—”
A soft knock interrupted us and I took an interest in the dying embers of the hearth while Dommik moved to open the door.
An unfamiliar form followed behind Alba’s gray robes. Then I looked closer, and she wasn’t unfamiliar at all. Although I hadn’t seen her clothed, I placed her instantly. It was the slave woman Eryx and Rhazien fed on in front of me at the ball four nights prior.
She was clearly in poor health. The woman was thin, too thin. Pale and tired and weak from the looks of her posture and the way her glazed, unfocused eyes stared at nothing in particular.
“Thank you for coming.” Dommik nodded to each of them.
The frail woman shot a wide-eyed, fearful glance to Alba and croaked, “You said he didn’t want to feed on me.”
“I don’t.”
“He doesn’t.”
Dommik and Alba said in unison. I cocked a brow at my chambermaid and the commander. Were they conspiring together?
I kneaded my hands together as I waited for someone to provide some clarity. Neither of them were in a rush to oblige and my impatience mounted. “Well?”
“His Majesty sent me,” the frail female admitted timidly.
“Which Majesty?” I folded my arms over my middle. My glare could have leveled a battlefield.
“She means Rhazien,” Dommik clarified on her behalf.
My muscles contracted at his name. The thought of him dining on her made my stomach drop. I couldn’t reasonably harbor any jealousy after Dommik had…
I steepled my fingers, pressing the tips together until my knuckles cracked. “To what end?”
“I…” She looked to Alba, Dommik, and then back to me, “I…”
“Where is Rhaz—His Majesty?” I finally asked, doing a poor job at feigning indifference.
“He is—” Dommik blew out a heavy breath as he folded his arms and leaned against the closest wall “—occupied.”
An unladylike sound burst from me. “Right, occupied.”
Alba consoled the shaken female as Dommik reminded me, “My lady, this Hive is not our home. Things are different here.”
“Not so different it would seem,” I said quietly, rubbing my chest and sending my gaze to the ceiling.