Our Story
Istared at the ceiling of Rhazien’s chambers, wondering where the time leading up to Solstice night had gone. Tonight was the night, in front of every noble and notable resident of the Hive, I would need to make an impossible choice.
I pressed the palms of my hands to my eyes, the familiar drumming of a blood hangover kept time with my pulse. Despite the chaotic events of the last week and the cumberous decisions ahead of me, I could find peace in knowing I was entirely myself again.
As I rolled onto my side, Rhazien came into view.
He’d made himself as comfortable as he could be on the chair next to the bed, head tilted in a way that made my own neck feel sore, and snored ever so softly.
A book with a spine so tattered it looked like the first text ever written rested on his chest.
He looked peaceful. The complete opposite of the night before.
We’d fought late into the morning. I didn’t hold back my curses and venom while he was full of apologies and new promises, none of which held any weight to me.
What we had—what we could have had—was not just broken.
No. It was violently torn to pieces and set ablaze in the depths of my rage.
And all the while, those feelings were overshadowed by the betrayal I felt from Dommik.
Seeing my family here, especially Lydia, made my stomach coil and lurch simultaneously. Hearing her say she knew Dommik, that he’d retrieved them and knowingly brought them here as a means of persuasion, made me wish I could sprout claws and slaughter anyone in my path.
And while I could self-destruct and take the entire Hive with me, it wouldn’t matter. It wouldn’t change this predicament. It wouldn’t see her safe.
I wanted Lydia to have a better future than me. Or a future at all at this point. And she couldn’t have that if she was stuck here to take my place beside the regent as future queen.
A sting of bitterness sliced through me as I considered how Rhazien had wooed me, charmed me, made me feel so seen and adored. I might not have been a rosy-eyed maid, but Lydia would be. She would be instantly smitten and trapped here.
Or worse, if Eryx ascended, how different the world would look. Atoris conquered from the Northern Hive to the southern shores of Bromport. Humans captured and condemned to be bred for slavery or sustenance.
That future horrified me. That couldn’t be her fate. I wouldn’t let it.
I lifted myself from the bed, hoping I could sneak away and avoid another energy-depleting argument with Rhazien.
But the immortal stirred and opened his eyes as I was trying to tiptoe away.
“What time is it?” He yawned.
I responded, my tone flat, “I can’t be sure. The bells haven’t chimed yet, so still early.”
He rubbed an eye and sat up straighter. “How are you feeling today?”
“I’m not the kind of woman whose anger subsides with sleep,” I responded, sending ripples across the calm I was failing to maintain.
Rhazien nodded, eyes finding the floor. I shifted there in the silence, wondering if there was more or if I could step away to relieve myself and wash.
“Reyva,” he said to the stones beneath my feet.
“Hm?” I hugged myself.
“I’m sorry.” His green eyes flicked up to mine. “There’s just so much I wish were different.”
It was my turn to gaze at the floor. “Me too.”
We couldn’t deny the gap between us anymore. Like a steady drip of my doubt had formed into a determined river, carving its way through our footing until the distance was large, deep, and unignorable.
And here we stood, at the edge of a cliff on our respective sides, tethered and desperately trying to pull the other to join us. Neither would yield. Neither would submit.
But the energy we shared had shifted from the night before.
Like we’d both set down the rope and just looked to the person at the other side, rather than trying to pull or force an outcome.
Neither of us had the tools to bring ourselves together again or find common ground.
It was a moment of understanding. A somber surrender.
We would have to walk, watching each other along the vastness, heading the same direction separately. Maybe the fissure between us would join at some point beyond the horizon, but we would have to travel together to find that place. And it would take time.
Maybe for now, we could just keep each other company.
I couldn’t be sure what it was that compelled me to walk to him, his lingering blood or my heart, but I found myself taking his hand into mine.
He squeezed it softly and I squeezed back. A silent exchange, a peace offering.
I didn’t know if I could love him. But a small part of me understood his position, his predicament. We found ourselves trapped by duty in something neither of us wanted.
At midnight breakfast, we were joined by Orla, the priestess who would oversee the Solstice Offering. Orla was a descendant of Aveen, the rarest bloodline of the four original vampire sisters. Priestesses had the power to conduct the shadow binding but also weave wards against the shades.
I was fascinated by her story. That she was made from Aveen before the sisters went to sleep. How she could call on her magic. On the other side of Solstice, I wanted to make a point to spend more time with her.
She was nearly done explaining the details of the ceremony when Dommik entered the dining area.
I froze, like a doe spotting a predator in a thicket.
From the head of the table, Rhazien cleared his throat. “Lord Thorne, please sit.”
Dommik moved slowly to the chair next to Orla.
“We were just discussing the ceremony. Please run us through your plans for security.”
Dommik recited details flawlessly about guard placement, rotation timing, duplicity in posts and why. Orla followed suit, ensuring her apprentice weavers were in place to guard the shades in their crypt.
When she finished, Rhazien nodded to each of them and rubbed his beard. “Very good.”
Then, the regent slapped his hand on his knees and said, “Lady Orla, let's go over this just one more time in the ballroom. I want to visualize it.”
Rhazien moved to Orla’s side, offering his arm to the priestess. I watched, dumbfounded, as they strode together to the dining hall exit. But before they left, Rhazien turned and said, “Three minutes. That’s all this will take.”
That’s all you’ll have, is what he meant.
The door shut and I launched a fork at Dommik. “I. Am. Furious. With. You. Why would you bring my family here?!”
“I’m glad,” Dommik declared after successfully evading the cutlery.
I scoffed, reaching for another piece of silverware. “You’re glad?”
“Yes,” he assured me. “It’s easier this way. If you hate me.”
I huffed, slamming the knife in my hand back on the table.
“I don’t hate you,” I said, my head hanging. Somehow, despite everything he’d done, everything he’d been an accomplice to, I didn’t hate him.
“But you don’t love me.” Dommik’s curiosity made his already angular features more pointed.
My hesitation was answer enough. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to love Dommik. I couldn’t love Dommik. It was impossible.
“Rhazien is moving forward with banishment. I’ll be sent East, but rather than have an assigned post, I’ll be imprisoned," Dommik explained in a low tone.
My heart sank. “There’s a prison to the East?”
“Sort of.” He shrugged, not answering my question.
“How long?”
“One hundred years, minimum.”
I knew time was different for vampires, but one hundred years seemed excessive. But I supposed it beat death or torture.
“I’m sorry.” Tears began to well, softening Dommik’s features. My heart was so heavy for him. That he was going to live out this sentence, banished from the comforts of the life he knew, because of me.
“Shh—stop. I’m not.” When I wiped my tears, I saw a small smile lifting his stubble to one side. “I’ll live.”
I jumped as the dining hall door burst open behind Dommik. In a gust, Rhazien was at his commander’s side, fierce eyes assessing me. His gaze softened when he found no new traces from his commander on my skin.
“All is well here, then?” Rhazien said, straightening his posture.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Dommik bowed to his regent before angling himself toward me. “It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Lady Reyva.”
An hour later, I was waiting in Rhazien’s chambers for the seamstresses to arrive with my final garment for the Offering ceremony. Rhazien was huddled over his desk, wiggling a quill between his fingers, and mumbling to himself.
The duties of a regent truly never rest.
I approached the desk slowly, twiddling my thumbs as I mentally rehearsed what I’d wanted to say to him.
When he looked from his papers, I saw him again. The old him. The Rhazien I thought I could fall in love with.
“I just—” I cleared my throat as the words tripped over my tongue “—wanted to say thank you. For earlier.”
Rhazien leaned back in his chair. “Oh, that. Yes, well, it wasn’t a problem at all.”
“Yes, it was,” I said softly. “It must have bothered you to let me speak to him alone, but you did it anyway, and I appreciate it.”
Rhazien’s lips pursed and rolled. He sucked in a breath and said, “You’re very welcome, my lady.”
When I married Hollis, it had been for the sake of strategic family alliances and asset sharing.
It was more of a business decision than a marriage.
By the end of his life, I loathed Hollis.
I didn’t want my partnership, chosen by me or not, to be like that.
If this was a fate I could not escape, I resolved to at least not make the situation worse.
Maybe this small moment of mutual respect could be our common ground. Our fresh start, I thought as I turned to walk away from the desk.
“Reyva. I’m sorry.” His gaze dropped down to his papers as he exhaled. We’d both discovered each other’s infidelity in less than ideal ways, and neither of us had apologized for our actions.
“I’m sorry too,” I whispered, really meaning it.
He ran the feather of his quill through his fingers before laying it on the desk.
“I’m not going to insult you and pretend I don’t need you. You are the key to a monumental step in our history. We will be legends. And this—this moment—this hiccup—these feelings—they will fade. They will not define our story.”
“Our story.”
He stood and took three purposeful steps toward me, eyes full of fire and hope. “Yes.”
The blood purred at his honey-glazed words. Was he right? Had I said yes to Dommik to scratch an itch? To satisfy a curiosity? Or was I living the lie now?
“Our story is more than this,” he cooed.
He made it sound so simple. I didn’t think, after burning so hot, my blood would ever be able to forget the way he’d boiled it.
Our story.