Page 81 of Vervain

“Maeve, if you are here to reiterate what I already know, leave,” Serun says dismissively. “And if you are here to threaten me, you will die.”

He reaches out to the bookshelf and opens the music box. Two silver rings shimmer in the dusky light, and the ballerina spins around in circles. Once it is fully open, he turns to face his sister. She is by the door, her arms folded and eyes on Saya as she stirs in his arms, a whimper cracking through her blood-stained lips.

“She is different⁠—”

“I know,” Serun interrupts. “But I don’t care. I never will.”

“You could try⁠—”

“I’m not wasting what could be a lifetime,” he answers coldly, already knowing what she was going to say. “But tell me this, Maeve, since you are here wanting to peel scabs from wounds that haven’t healed yet. Why didn’t you tell me she was at the feeding ground?”

“Because I, too, want her to have a lifetime. You know that more than anything, I desire to see you happy, and her life fulfilled. Unfortunately, these two things…” Maeve’s voice becomes soft, trailing off.

The books tremble behind him, and the settled dust stirs.

“Lucifer already has a thousand reasons to hate her. I do not need to find a new family over something so small, and I would have to, if he tried to fight me,” Serun says, conviction thick on his tongue and promises prepared to be written on open flesh if anyone tries to so much as fucking touch Saya.

“You…” Maeve enters the room, her arms falling to her sides. “I won’t say a word of this to Lucifer.”

Serun glares at her and makes no move to respond. Maeve stops short when the wall behind Serun opens. Clawed, shadowed hands grip the sides of the passageway, and a deep rumble comes from within, trembling the manor.

“We are leaving tomorrow,” Serun declares. “And if you try to speak of this to Lucifer, even through your spiders, I will take all those you cherish away from you.” Long arms burst from the darkness behind him, and taloned nails grip the wood, fracturing it. Maeve takes a cautionary step back, her eyes wide and her spiders skittering across her body. “Death is too final. You will suffer for eternity, replaying lives lost.”

She curls her upper lip, flashing her fangs. “Threats, brother? That is unlike you. I would expect you to act without warning.”

He tilts his head. “Perhaps I like you enough to grant a warning.”

Saya hitches a breath, and the siblings look down at her, while the threat that burns as black as smoke in a clear blue sky slips away. Serun’s long, clawed hands shrink, returning to nightwalker hands that tenderly grip Saya’s flesh.

“I won’t utter a word to anyone,” Maeve whispers, the softness in her eyes a ringed, golden halo. “But if she does it in front of others, expect many to break Serun’s Law to kill her. Are you willing to give up all that you have built?”

“Without Saya’s life, there will be nothing left to build upon this time.”

“I do not believe that. Perhaps that is my soul speaking—but if she harms my family, I will sever our bond and go against you.”

“At least you are honest,” he sighs. “Few would speak those words to me. So, take care of the Undercity. There are some newborns I’d like to keep alive. That blacksmith, for one, as much as I hate the thought of the way he looks at my consort.”

Maeve laughs, easing the tension between them. “Jealous?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he ends the conversation by turning away and slipping into the darkness of the passageway. They have a strange relationship, but Serun enjoys her company the most out of his siblings. She is reasonable and doesn’t act on emotion.

Serun descends the stairs with Saya perfectly placed in his arms. Shadows that often cling to him slip away in the all-encompassing darkness. Left feeling naked and vulnerable, he takes the last step down the spiral stone steps.

Saya squirms, pain flushing her face, which means she is still in a memory, but not one of his. Memories of his past rushed into him when her fangs sank into his flesh but faded once she passed out in his arms. When he was a boy among enemies.

Entering the stone-encased room, he tastes dust on the tip of his tongue. His deathbed is in the centre. Nothing else is inside. This room is only a place for Serun to sleep peacefully where no one can find him.

Carrying Saya with one arm, he curls his fingers around the edge of the lid and pushes the stone aside to reveal the silk-blue padding that covers the inside. He lowers himself and Saya into the coffin, letting her body rest on the silk, draped against him.

Her once black fingertips now throb with a pink hue. When she bit him, shadow-like magik moved across her skin—alive. A side effect? But since leaving, they have faded.

It doesn’t matter now. Serun faces her, noticing the freckles across her cheeks and nose are glowing. Her powers are growing stronger.

He reaches out and takes her hand. A tightness grips his throat at how fragile she is. Finding the space between her knuckles, he kisses her tender flesh. “My desire far outweighs my reason when it comes to you. Always you…my kamai.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

DEATHBED