Page 6

Just one more night, then I could go back to hosting revels. This time I would make sure no idiot vampires brought in unlicensed humans.

My hands were shaking as I stepped into Nygaard Manor, and of course Bellatrix was lounging on the chaise, her long, slender legs crossed. She swirled a goblet clutched in her pale hand, scarlet eyes pinned on me.

“Mother,” I mumbled, as I eased the door shut behind me and strode across the sitting room.

“I thought you lectured in the daytime,” she said. She patted the cushion, motioning me to sit, but I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at her.

“I lecture in the afternoon, and I lingered to chat with a colleague.” A lie.

She scoffed. “I will never understand why you choose to associate with mortals. Are you taking them to bed as well, or just every vampire in the Blucrux district?”

The effort it took for me to not roll my eyes was astounding. “Not every vampire.” I made sure my voice remained aloof, though every muscle in my body tensed. “Only the sinfully delectable ones.” I turned on my toes to stalk off, and in a blink, Bellatrix appeared in front of me.

Her upper lip curled, the flash of her fangs only mildly unsettling. “Careful, darling. We don’t want your reputation tarnished, do we? You are an heir of House Nygaard.” Her only blood-born heir, in fact.

A sibilant laugh rushed out of me as I made a point to look around. “House Nygaard. As in this hollow has-been?” In its former glory, my aunts, an uncle, and many cousins walked the halls. My youngest cousin, Dahlia, was thirteen, and the last I heard she was already promised to a member of another Primal Born family. She wouldn’t be officially paired until she reached the age of eighteen when she was expected to come into her full powers, but I still pitied the child’s lack of autonomy.

The only reason I’d gotten away from being paired was my tainted blood. I’ve managed to hide it all my life, but bearing a child could expose me. Worse, it would create another monster.

“Such power …” Her voice cut through my thoughts, eyes boring into my soul. She didn’t say anything more about it, but the unspoken words were clear in her eyes: such a waste. “To lower yourself to the likes of mortals by day and host revels by night is a blight on your character.”

I smirked at her, though the meaning behind her words hurt. A waste. “Funny you mention my revels,” I said. “Because I heard that several centuries ago, your revels were infamous for leaving behind dozens of human bodies—the very reason we have licensing laws to protect them—yet you judge me. My revels hurt no one.”

Cold sweat slipped down my back as I clenched my jaw to hold back the shudder trying to ripple through me. My legs were starting to tremble, and a haze threatened to shroud my mind while bile pooled at the back of my throat. I wasn’t sure if it was a reaction to being in Bellatrix’s presence for too long or a relapse of my symptoms, but either way, I needed to get away.

I turned to march off once more, but Bellatrix appeared in front of me again, her fists clenched as if trying to keep herself from raising her hand against me. The last time she struck me, I struck back. Hot anger had poured into my body and obliterated my self-control. I’m not sure what exactly Bellatrix had seen at that moment, but I would never forget the fear that sparked in her eyes. It had been the first time I’d ever seen fear in her eyes rather than her drinking in the fear she induced.

She stepped aside now, too, and I zipped up the stairs to my bedroom. My door rattled on its hinges, and in the quietude, a hiss came from Nidhogg’s corner. “Good evening to you, too,” I mumbled. I breathed through the uncomfortable prickling in my skin as I made my way to Nidhogg’s tank. I pulled a wriggling mouse from the cage below, slid the cover back enough to drop the creature in, then secured the closure again.

My hands were already shaking as I removed my alchemy belt from my waist and set it on the bed. I withdrew the case of my drafts from the side table, everything taking longer as I tried to stop my hands from shaking. I shouldn’t have felt so out of sorts yet, but perhaps it was the stress of my mother’s return making my symptoms play up faster.

Or maybe I needed to increase the dose.

I was shaking uncontrollably by the time I clutched the syringe in my fist and sat on the bed, drawing up my skirt to stab the needle into my thigh. I pushed the draft in swiftly, yanked the needle out, and set it aside. The tremors took a moment to subside while the haze slowly lifted from my mind. My body was still unsettled, but I tossed the syringe into the hearth before stripping out of my clothes and donning a nightgown.

As I sat on my bed, I stared at the bite mark on the front of my thigh. It was still violently red against my pale flesh, the indentations of the wolf’s jagged teeth clear as if it had only been a couple of weeks rather than six months. It no longer wept pus or oozed lycan venom, but it didn’t look much better than it had just weeks after the attack. The wound on my arm had taken even longer to heal, leaving me unable to use it for over a week.

I’d remained at my friend Magdalena’s cottage in the woods for my entire recovery, much of which had been a feverish blur of mind-muddling pain and healing tinctures shoved down my throat. Thank goodness for Magdalena’s spellcaster neighbor, Gertrude. Healing was excruciatingly slow as the infection that generally only affected lycans spread through my veins. I hadn’t dared to step foot back into the Nygaard household until I was no longer dragging my leg behind me or clutching my limp arm to my chest.

If Bellatrix had seen me in such weakness, she would’ve found a spellcaster to ritually sever my immortality. I imagined she would take great pleasure in driving a stake through my chest herself. She would’ve loved to watch the life drain from my eyes.

My irises weren’t pure blood red like the rest of the Nygaards or most other vampires. They were stained with flecks of gold. In times of extreme anger and partial transformation, one glowed bright amber, revealing the beast within. I stood to grab an unopened bottle of nectar, uncorking it as I paced my room. I thought ahead to the following day, how the lycan repel should be ready to be processed into powder. Then I could create a stronger draft that would hopefully keep my symptoms away for longer.

In my dreams, the damp earth beneath my feet and the wind in my hair was liberating. In my dreams, I wasn’t confined to the household where I’d spent my life hiding the truth of who I was.

I was cured. No longer dying. No longer hiding.

There was freedom, but there was also insatiable hunger.

3

ONE MIND, ONE SOUL

SYLVAN

The trees rushed by in a fog of motion, and twigs snapped beneath my paws as my wolf’s body seamlessly parted the tall grass. There was a howl in the distance—an unanswered, solitary howl. Lone wolves were thought to be miserable and aimless, as there was nothing worth living for without a pack. But this particular howl didn’t sound mournful nor vacuous.

It sounded free.