Page 47 of Vervain

“Before you, Kepler had no colour. Everything I saw was bleak, greyed out—devastating. Then you looked at me with no fear. Nothing to indicate that you were repulsed by this creature,” he says, gesturing to himself with blackened claws.

My hand lowers from the door handle, and I pick at the skin around my fingernail.

“Instead, you were curious, excited. Understanding. And since then, the red in those vibrant eyes of yours has become my favourite colour.”

He makes it hard to stand here at a distance. What would it feel like to be truly loved by someone who’s not afraid of me?

“Then stop hesitating,” I breathe, but before he can respond, I open the door and close it behind me. Pressing my back against the rough wooden surface, I slide down like wet paint until I hit the carpet. With my eyes closed, head tipped back, and chest tightening, warm tears slip down my cheeks. I cry for everything I’ve lost when I was too weak to do something.

I’ve let others act for me, and here I am, asking Serun to do it again.

The man who made me his consort.

Am I ready to forgive him for that if I can’t forgive myself?

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

AUDITORY

Saya Claymore

I feel safest when the hall is empty…most of the time.

I place the ballet slippers beside me and peel off the tape wrapped around my toes. Reddened swelling throbs along the sides from the strain of being elevated longer than usual.

Touching the blisters, I breathe out a low hiss. Clear liquid seeps out. Bowing into the pain, I exhale, and my body tenses at the shudder of the doors closing. My anxious fingertips bite into my flesh as my Blessed casually enters the hall. Unfriendly, bored eyes look around aimlessly, his hands clapping as he swings his arms out and back in.

If I didn’t know him, I would assume he’s lost. But I’m not naive enough to believe his casual movements—everything he does is calculated.

“Saya,” he says cheerfully, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles. “I was looking all over the village for you.”

I blink, unable to digest his words.

He claps once more, clasping his hands in front of him. “Not one for words, I see. Father told me you lacked…communication. A fault in your system, unlike the rest of us.”

Looking away, I hook my fingers into my slippers and rise. As I walk barefoot down the steps of the stage, he blocks my path. A sickly-sweet smile spreads across his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

My Blessed is lanky. Twig-like, but he holds the most vegodian power—a rarity among vegodian men—which makes up for how breakable his body seems. Flowers adore him, leaning closer whenever they are near.

“Do you know why they paired us?”

I shake my head.

He hitches a laugh, amused at knowing something I don’t. “Because you are weak. Barely a vegodian, from what your mum and my father have said. So, to balance things out, they want me to put my seed in you to carry on my magik.”

I blink and shrug my stiff right shoulder while my fingers tighten on the slippers looped between them.

“Heh…” Another mocking laugh as he steps aside, and I walk down the last steps before making my way down the aisle. “You can’t ignore me forever, Saya. Our praise ceremony will be soon. Once the ribbons wrap around us, you are mine to claim. Bound for a lifetime.”

My jaw locks, and my hands clench into fists. Still, I bite my tongue. I don’t need to give them all another reason to cast me out.

I loathe these memories, especially when they torment me while I sleep. To think I pushed them away for so long, only for my glamour to waver, and for them to return tenfold, like a thundering cloud looming over my head.

Running my fingers through my damp hair, in nothing but a bath towel, I reflect on last night. I admitted I liked Serun. Stupid, perhaps, to speak to a nightwalker about feelings. I doubt they have feelings, only the echo of them woven with the urges and lust that come with being a nightwalker.

Naïve? Perhaps.

Am I desperate to have what we had in Darkovish Feeding Ground? Likely…