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How could I guide those with centuries of bad habits to change? A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed to remove it. But, the gods believed in me, and their faith was all that stopped me from running to my room and locking myself away from their curious eyes.
What is she?
I could see the question burning on each of their faces. My father swept to my side. My mother remained a step behind. I could sense her anxiety rippling through the space between us. Her barriers were low. She wanted me to know how she was feeling and tell her what happened with the gods, but now was not the time. I had promises to keep, and a kingdom to rule.
But the next part was going to be the hardest. I knew what was required of me, a command by the goddess Vaneria and her brothers, yet it pained me.
I spotted Niall as I took a step forward. His long hair fell over his chest as he bowed deeper than the others. Then, slowly, he raised his head, his blood-slathered lips lifting at the corner.
He’d saved me.Why?
Shaping and carving my gift, I darted it to him, focusing only on his being. As it reached him, I jolted back, feeling the power thrum against the wall he’d formed. He had a stronger barrier shielding his emotions than even mine.
Kalon.
Of course. It only made sense to construct a strong defense with a man like that for a father. “I wish to leave,” I stated to my mom as she hurried beside me, her fingers grazing the top of my hand.
She glanced at my father, who’d barely nodded when she grasped my arm, pulling me out of the room and away from their prying eyes. We glided through the foyer, my senses capturing every slice of light that came with the rising sun blotting pink into the indigo sky. I didn’t move from the arched windows, even as she tugged at me again. “Olivia.”
“Stop.” I ripped my arm from her grip, raising my tense shoulders. “It’s Seraphina now.”
Her raven eyebrows pinched downward, scrunching her nose. “Since when did you want to be called that?”
“It is my birth name.” A pang of regret shot through me, but the only people I wanted to call me Olivia were people I was close to. The distance between my mom and I was so far now, and I couldn’t help but resent her for her choices, especially for forcing me to wear the trailic.
I listened acutely to every step as my father’s shoes clicked against the stone. The mix of orange hues from the lamps and morning light through the windows brought out the colors in his auburn waves.
“Daughter,” he said, leaving behind the muddied chatter of the feeding room. “We will go somewhere more private to discuss your—” He paused. “—situation.”
I exhaled forcibly through my nose, suppressing a scoff. This was no situation; the greed widening his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He was jealous. Unsure why I had been given true immortality while he was just a vampire, even one with gifts others didn’t have.
“Do you want me to fly you up?” he asked, extending his gold wings.
“No, you go ahead.” Before either of them could respond, I took off, expecting a blur of my surroundings, but instead finding sharpness and clarity of every vase and decorated tapestry.
I didn’t need wings. I had speed, and I was much faster than even a vampire. Instinctively, I turned left at a stairwell, breathing in the smell of sulfur and cinnamon on my father’s clothes, and listened. His short, shallow breaths guided me in his direction, the flap of his wings beating against the air.
I met him in the gardens, the cold sinking into my arms, snaking a shiver down my spine, but I quickly adjusted, finding warmth within myself. Being immortal was invigorating, and I finally understood the allure.
Mist followed me as I strode over to him and heard my mother land behind us. The smell of rain hung fresh in the air. Leaves crisped under my feet as I walked to the stone bench. I smiled, delighting in the sensation from each crunch. Wind whistled through the stark trees, catching wisps of cobwebs and creaking branches.
My father’s voice cut through the daze, his tone guided with unease. “You are not a vampire.”
I smiled, looking him directly in the eye. “A keen observation, Father.”
His jaw clenched, the muscles in his forearms bulged. “Do not take that tone with me. I am still your king.”
Not for long.
My mom sat beside me, crossing her legs under her black dress. “What he means to say is, well, what are you?”
“Can’t you see it?” he snapped, pacing in a circle, his hands clasped behind his back. “They gave her the elixir of immortality—without the curse of vampirism.”
He was more intelligent than I gave him credit for. “Yes,” I confirmed.
Only one question threaded in his expression, his lip twitching. “Why?”
“The gods wanted a true leader. You’ve not done a good job as king. They want me on the throne instead.”
