Chapter 21
Esiree
Acure. Gods, he had been pursuing a cure.
Hundreds of years his scientists had toiled, and they still hadn’t succeeded.
My father had only just begun his search for a solution just a handful of years ago in comparison.
How could we expect him to achieve the intended outcome with so little time and resources?
My mind teetered precariously toward a question I’d never expected.
Did I want him to succeed? His success meant death for many.
The starvation of the Vampyr would be brutal and drawn out, but wouldn’t guarantee surrender.
They very well could decide to take us all down with them.
Was this really the best outcome if there was even a slight chance of a cure?
As we entered the bedroom chamber, Vastion casually strode toward the fireplace, lighting it to illuminate the hearth.
My mind raced with everything I had learned.
It was impossible to think any news would have shocked me more than that of Kesna and Harden’s deaths, but Rabids in the castle?
Experiments led by humans? A centuries-long search for a cure?
I was overwhelmed by the depth of my discovery.
Beforehand, Vastion’s disapproval stemmed from my petty refusals and general obstinance. None of which I’d imagined as being punishable by death. But this… Now, I had trodden dangerously close to the sun. With my foolish curiosity, I’d practically intertwined my fate with that of the cure.
In the span of a week, I had driven Lord Tempus to temporary incarceration, pried treasonous secrets from Vastion’s lips, then stumbled upon a plan so monumental it could alter the course of history forever.
If there ever was a version of my father’s plan where I remained largely anonymous, silently achieving success while the inhabitants of the Heart were none the wiser, it now ceased to exist. I had placed myself firmly at the center of this conspiracy, and I felt myself losing what little control I’d managed to garner since my arrival.
Though his threat in the Hollows still echoed the playful nature of our verbal sparring, now he had every reason to act on those threats. Vastion must have seen the concern written all over my face because he paused, assessing me, then quickly offered, “Would you like me to bring you some tea?”
“Yes, yes please,” I replied back, trying not to sound as overwhelmed as I felt.
When he exited to retrieve it, I went to the boudoir and distracted myself by changing into more comfortable attire.
I had sweat entirely through my undergarments.
The feel of the fabric clinging to my skin was constricting, and I tore at the strings and laces, trying frantically to free myself.
I threw on a loose nightdress and made my way to the glass door that opened onto the verandah.
I had seen Lailanor operate the crank enough times that I was confident I could do it on my own.
As soon as the large glass doors afforded a wide enough gap, I dashed onto the balcony.
I inhaled deeply, allowing the rhythmic pulse of the waves to sync with my own heartbeat, my lungs rejoicing from the flood of subtly sweet sea air.
My bare feet embraced the cool stone, and I curled my toes against the normally rough texture, now slick from errant surges that breached the barrier.
When I turned back toward our chamber, I jumped at Vastion’s presence, his silence always a surprise.
I had no indication of his arrival, nor how long he’d been standing there, watching me.
I wasn’t even sure how long I’d stood there.
He held out a small teacup as an offering.
When I took it, his fingertips grazed my hand gently.
“Thank you, I appreciate this,” I said, moving in the direction of the fireplace.
Drying sweat bestowed its imminent chill, and I sought the warmth of the hearth to remedy it.
I grabbed a pillow from the settee, placed it on the ground in front of the fire and sat down before I began to sip at the tea he’d brought me.
I remembered how Ari and I used to gather like this as children during the bitter season.
My father would simmer sliced oranges, rosemary, and cinnamon quills, infusing the air with warm spices and comfort.
Ari would lick at the invisible aroma, pretending he could actually taste it, but he was just trying to convince me to mimic him so he could make fun of me for believing such nonsense.
Lost in the memories of youth, I suddenly felt the presence of Vastion who had unexpectedly pulled up a chair behind me.
His strong legs felt like cages framing both sides of my shoulders.
“Your beauty is radiant in the firelight,” he said softly, pulling a tendril of my hair over my shoulder. It caused a shiver down my spine and my back straightened rigidly. “Relax,” Vastion instructed, hinting at amusement with the way his touch affected me.
Despite his suggestion, I remained alert and lifted the cup to my mouth, taking another sip.
“May I?” he asked while holding a small hairbrush over my shoulder.
If I hadn’t been so caught off guard by his strange request, I might have been more puzzled by the fact that I didn’t even know when he’d retrieved the brush.
“Um, I guess. Yes. If it pleases you,” I said softly, remembering our coy exchanges from the Harvest.
Vastion began to delicately run the brush along my locks, his fingers moving deftly between the pieces, avoiding any tug or tangle.
After three or four caresses of it along my head, my shoulders relaxed, unable to ignore the calming sensation.
This was not like the times a lady’s maid had styled me; their movements meticulous yet forceful, tugging, pulling and pinning.
His touch was tender, slow, and occasionally he’d lift his hand to cradle the back of my head as he tilted its position to his whim.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—I had become too lost in the ticklish prickles dancing their way up and down my neck.
“Your hair,” he paused. “It reminds me of the last sunset I saw as a human. When I look at you, I’m warmed with thoughts of a different life.”
His tone was melancholy and somber, soaked with a sadness that pooled around his feet and curled its way up my legs like ivy, leeching something from me akin to empathy. A feeling towards his kind so foreign that I barely understood its origin.
My silence did not dissuade him. He continued parting and folding long pieces of my hair into loose braids before undoing them and letting the waves fall down my back.
I’d never had a man touch my hair this way, and there was something uniquely intimate about it.
The more his hands kneaded at my shoulders in between strokes, the further I felt myself pulled under, drawn into a meditative state of bliss.
When he set down the brush, Vastion pulled the two shorter pieces that framed each side of my face back, running his fingertips along my cheekbones in doing so.
“Es?”
“Yes,” I replied, almost sleepily.
“I am alive, though you feel otherwise. I am very much alive, when I am around you.”
To find peace in his words would have been a blessing, something any young woman would be pleased to hear from such a handsome man.
But there was no peace in my heart. Only strife and struggle, swirling like a storm trying to reconcile my head from my heart, my duty from my past. I longed to find contentment and comfort in such words, in the belief that they were spoken earnestly.
But beyond the reasons I was sent here, there was an undeniable truth festering in me that exploded before I even had the chance to stop it.
“You only see what you want to see. You and your bold declarations!” I said angrily, tugging away from his grasp.
“You speak of sunsets and beauty, the things I do to you, the things I won’t do to you!
” I tried to collect myself, to rationalize my thoughts and put them into any sort of words that held clarity.
“You like the idea of me, yet you hardly know me.”
Vastion sat there calmly, letting me air my grievances without interruption.
“And most importantly,” I added, “it’s clear how intelligent you are.
You care far more than you’d ever let anyone know, and yet you diminish me to just my looks.
Because you are handsome and of high standing, you are used to subjects groveling at your feet, desperate for approval.
You think I owe you my life, that I should be grateful for my position? ”
A boyish smile spread above Vastion’s chin, accentuating his dimples. I wanted to smack them right off his smug face.
“You think I’m hands—”
“—Don’t you dare!” I scolded him. I scooted farther towards the fireplace, distancing myself.
“I want to know you. You have not allowed it,” he declared confidently. “I have wanted to know you since the moment I laid eyes on the Lady of Leto. And I will not apologize for acknowledging your exquisite beauty, the likes of which you are wholly unaware of.”
He placed the brush on the seat next to him and crossed one leg over the other. “While the matter of our joining was expeditious in nature, our short time together has only solidified my belief in your qualifications to serve as queen.”
Every unwavering moment of honesty between us sought to break down my walls.
Walls I had built towards his kind all my life, and as I felt them begin to crack in the smallest ways, I still clung to those foundations defiantly.
I couldn’t accept that he was so smart and good-looking, yet unassuming.
There was an idea I had built up in my head every day leading up to the Harvest, every moment of ensnaring him into my family’s trap.
Now, I was beginning to question my mission.
Vastion rose to his feet. Slowly and unthreateningly. “Es, it is I who am grateful for your sacrifice. I am sorry that I am not the man you deserve, and instead the monster you despise. But grateful, nonetheless.”
He stepped around the chair carefully and moved toward the exit of our room.
These motions were beginning to feel routine between us.
Him always leaving me, a fight for who would have the last word.
But I couldn’t bear it any longer. With his back turned to me, I called out the truth that I longed to yell at every man who ever doubted me.
To my brother and father, who had pegged me as the pawn queen, to the leaders of the territories who wagered my beauty and wit would carry me into the arms of the king at the Harvest, and now to Vastion.
“I am capable of far more than this!”
He halted his footsteps immediately, turning to glance back over his shoulder.
“I am not some pretty object to sit atop a throne for a lifetime until I wither and am replaced. I am not a symbol; I am not a Tribute. I have a soul, and I refuse to have my purpose reduced to whatever this is!” I lashed out, waving my hand at the display of wealth and solitude surrounding me.