Chapter 13
Some things beckon and some things crawl. It all derives from a need so innate, so primal, that to ignore it is a tragedy the Gods would punish for.
Avonde, Yully and the rest of the cess left hours ago following the heated revelations.
Their plan for my health involves physical, mental and magical training.
They will try to find magic, counter-magic, to fix me but they want to avoid being invasive until they have the right spell.
The consensus being that I will not get better unless the curse can be broken.
Whatever was cast was done so with a dark intention.
A ray of warmth centers me from the sun setting in the west. Some of the golden rays poke through the windows in the kitchen. I put my hand to them, letting them grace my skin just as I did at home in the farmhouse.
I shouldn’t call it home any more. When I first awoke, I was certain this wasn’t real. Lux. That perhaps this was a dream or some terrible confusion.
But after seeing Sawyer, after feeling that magic thrum through my hand and into the cottage door, and after relishing in human blood…
Acceptance came as soon as Cedric pulled the cover from that portrait. My portrait.
Without a doubt, it was me. Icy blonde hair spilled over my shoulders and down past my chest, cut off by the borders of the painting.
Tufts of red streaks on either side of my face framed my cheeks.
Tyn, the cess from the warehouse, he was immediately uncomfortable at its sight.
The cloak from the city hangs in the armoire.
Sighing, I lift the red pieces to the light of the sun, examining the individual strands, when a singular knock comes from the front door.
Too many visitors recently. Deep inside, I want to ignore it.
My hand touches the doorknob with hesitation and the small zap lets me know it’s unlocked.
Cedric stands before me, hair dishevelled as always.
But this evening he looks particularly undone.
His formal coat and trousers are replaced by a looser cotton shirt and pants.
Still, they fit perfectly to him and are by no means casual as silver laces through all of the seams, but this relaxed version of him settles me.
“Uh…” I start, still taking in the male before me.
“I want to apologize,” he begins, leaning against the doorframe. I stay just inside the threshold, not inviting him in. This is my safe space. “I want to apologize for not understanding. You have suffered a great deal and I want to understand more of it. To make an honest effort.”
I fold my arms, the dagger I keep on me at all times now, presses into my skin. He glances at my hand, a knowing quirk in his eyebrow but he doesn’t mention it. “Liv, I know you don’t know me, I know that. As much as that hurts – and believe me, it does – I want to know you.”
“You seem to already know everything about me,” I remark.
“Trust me, I want Elivienne back.”
“Well, Elivienne is gone.”
“You don’t truly believe that,” he says, tilting his head. “Otherwise, you would have left by now. I know you are capable of it.”
I think on his words and can’t help but smirk.
That bastard.
A smile grows on his face but, it isn’t a smile of mocking or pride, it appears genuine. A deep dimple on the left, a subtle one on the right. His smile lines stretch evenly on each side and right then and there, I see it. In this moment, I realize where I have seen him before.
It wasn’t in Sawyer and the many similarities shared. No, it was at the market. That day in my dream. The stranger who purchased Ma’s pottery.
Choking on this realization, I step back a bit, feeling my chest cave in for a moment.
“What is it?” He searches my face with concern.
I look up to him. “You once said something about going into my mind?” My legs sway a little.
His smile disappears and replaces itself with a hardened look. “I’m sorry about earlier. It was a boundary I will not cross again.”
I shake my head. “No, when I was asleep, did you try? The coma, I mean.” Though I would have to address what happened earlier another time.
“Every day,” he breathes. “Every. Day.”
An automatic movement brings me across the threshold so that we’re both standing in the late autumn air. Crickets chirp along the hill in front of the cottage, highlighting the serene beauty around us.
“Did you ever get through?” Memories flood past me, anything I can remember from the farm. My words are urgent because this is the biggest breakthrough we’ve had thus far.
“Only once,” he admits, running a hand through his hair.
The jump in my heart rattles me because recollection is flooding my body. He was there that day, at the market, before I fell.
“You remember?”
Solemnly I nod, unsure of what to make of this new information. He did get through, but only once, and he was so different then. In my dream state, he looked more normal, more human, sun-kissed with youth. There was no hint of dark culture or intent. A lack of male fierceness.
Cedric with soft edges. With no crown.
His face lights up and within a second, the light vanishes. Washed by a calm facade that he shrugs into place. He moves back a step, as if to refrain from touching me again.
We stare at each other for a few breaths and I take him in fully.
His body truly is built from both training and running a kingdom.
Though he appears younger, my impression of what he is makes me curious for his true age.
My true age as well. Subtle smile lines join with the sharp lines of his cheekbones.
I suspect he is far more expressive than what his position calls for. A king who is also a vampyr.
Just like me.
I still have some reservations about that notion.
I still know little about this life here.
I want to believe that this is a dream or that I passed on, but this feels so organic.
The interactions I have with the people here, the way the cool night feels on my face, even the sting of a scrape in the forest behind the cottage.
Dreams are rarely this lucid.
This is so real. He is real.
I can’t shake his piercing look. As if he is trying to figure out my face, he tilts his head to the side and lets out a small laugh.
“What?”
“It’s just,” he starts, almost looking at me quizzically now.
“You look just like her, obviously. That was not a good statement.” He laughs nervously, hand rubbing behind his neck.
“You, Elivienne, obviously you look alike. But your stature and mannerisms have subtle changes. The way you carry yourself, it’s different. ”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, maybe that will all change once the cure is found.”
“We’ll see, then.”
“Is there anything you needed?” I clear my throat. He surely didn’t come here just to look at me.
“Ah, yes. I came here to propose.” He straightens his cuffs.
My face twists. That’s always been a fatal flaw, the way I wear my emotions.
“Gods. Not that kind.” He laughs nervously, taking a moment to look at me from the corner of his eyes as he glances at the cottage.
“A proposition. I am inviting you to return to your quarters at the castle.”
My quarters. Down the hall from him. His words sound more like an order than a request. How could they not from a king?
“For what purpose?” I ask, feeling a defense building.
“You have no memory of me, of the kingdom or of your life. While Avonde works on the spell binding you and your powers, I thought it worthwhile to try and spark your mind. By having you living in your normal quarters and interacting with the court you are familiar with, I believe we can break through.”
My hands begin fiddling with my skirt. This idea sounds destined for disaster.
“But there is another request. A personal one.” He pauses. “You have to try.”
“Try?”
Cedric folds his arms, allowing the air to go silent. “This would be an open timeline. I think that would be best. You’d have to try to find yourself again while also finding your way back to me.”
I had only a slight idea of our previous relationship. But the specifics…
“You want me to try to be with you while waiting for some saving grace that Avonde digs up?”
“If this doesn’t work. If we can’t truly form a bond beyond that of whatever this is, then I will release you.”
Release you.
“What purpose does this serve you?”
Cedric pauses, unsure of his next words. He straightened his cuffs, avoiding eye contact. “None. You will not be forced to make this work. I will never force anything upon you, Liv.”
“None? You’ve already forced me to stay here, forced me to live a life I have already rejected. Why would I accept now?”
“Answer this. What other choice do you have? This curse is largely unknown. Who knows what the trajectory of it is? Your life was here, is here. We can discuss specifics, but you will always retain your authority when it comes to decision making. That is why I am offering you this.”
If I choose this, I choose him. That is essentially the offer. Cedric is no basic ruler. This is clear in the castle and the way Veda is run. His power would provide me protection. Protection I might need considering someone, somewhere, cursed me.
And these powers, do I want them back?
“What if I say no?” I question.
“You will be allowed to stay on the grounds or off-site with healers,” he blankly replies, as if rehearsed. “My advisors would arrange passage and a life outside of Lux for you.”
The weight of this decision bears down upon my shoulders. There is something here with Cedric. A rawness that feels hopeful. In learning more about myself, I will be discovering more about him and us. Our history.
Rejecting this practically feels like a betrayal. My body feels numb at the thought of separating myself from here permanently. Yesterday, the force of adrenaline kept me moving, but a seed of doubt fostered deep within.
I cannot deny that.
“Liv, do you accept this proposal? I will not force you. I will never force you. You have a choice. But being at the castle is safer, regardless.”
There is another reason he wants me there.