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“It’s okay,” he said, as if he could sense my fear. “I am not embarrassed. Tell me what you sensed.”
“You’re lonely.”
He clapped his hands together. “Great work. Most stop at the calm.”
“You’ve dealt with empaths before,” I stated.
“Mmhmm,” he hummed and finished his tea. “It’s a good start.”
“Start?”
“These things take time. You still pulled back once you touched that part of my emotional center. Did it affect you?”
I nodded slowly. “I can’t always draw the line between mine and others’ emotions.”
He gave me a knowing look. “Then we will work on that in our next lesson.”
I glanced at the clock, the ticking clicking deep into my ear canals. “We’ve been here two hours already?” I asked in disbelief. “That flew by.”
“That is a good sign,” he said. “Tomorrow, at the same time?”
“Yes.” I stood and placed my hand over my stomach. Those waffles with syrup were still calling me. “See you tomorrow,” I said, then added, “Thank you,” and left, feeling a little lighter than when I had come in. I hurried up the path back to the castle, my head ringing with the screeching coming from the courtyard.
Breaking into a run, I swept over to the entrance, spotting Erianna holding her dagger at Kalon as a body lay at her feet. Slowly, I ran to her, ready to defend whatever she was trying to do. I stopped at her side, my gaze sliding down to the corpse drained of blood.
My heart palpitated as disbelief and shock whittled into me. “No,” was all I could whimper as I refused to believe that the body belonged to my best friend. “Draven.” I whispered his name. Dizziness consumed me as the world fell into slow motion. My vision blurred and Erianna screamed something at Kalon, but I wasn’t listening. All I could hear was the deafening absence of a heartbeat.
TWENTY-FOUR
Sebastian
Darkness shrouded me as I awoke. Groggily, I moved over to the other side of the bed, flicking the lamp on Olivia’s side. I rolled my shoulders back, then stretched my wings, gliding them slowly outward over the sheets until they covered the entire bed.
A deep ache plummeted into the depths of my heart before I could catch my next breath. I sat upright, clipping one wing against the bed spot.Something is wrong.Placing my hand over my chest, I inhaled deeply, slowing my racing heart. Was this a panic attack? I hadn’t had one since I was a mortal.
The feeling went as quick as it came, and I stood, checking the time. How the fuck was it earlier than when I’d gone to bed…unless, had I slept all night and day? The perks of being a vampire meant no hangover. Still, I’d never drunk so much liquor in my life.
Pain tore through me again, doubling me over. Grief tugged at my core, enough to match how I felt watching my mom die years ago. Unexpectedly, tears welled in my eyes. I hugged my waist as nausea stole my immortal reflexes. I knocked against the nightstand, sending an empty glass of scotch onto the floor, shattering shards everywhere. Before I could wonder if I was dying or not—however impossible that was—the emotion floated away. This grief wasn’t mine.
I headed for the door, noticing Olivia’s nightgown crumpled on the floor. I raced down the corridor, then the stairs. She had come back, and I’d been asleep, drunk, and hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to her about our argument. About anything.
Urgency sent adrenaline through my veins, propelling me faster. I took flight instead of running, swooping over the steps, gusting air under my wings until I reached the foyer.
No one was here, but the sound of the party echoed from behind the doors of the throne room. Following the sound of the upbeat music, I entered. Olivia’s bloodshot eyes found me across the room, and my shoulders tensed. Her fingers dug into her palms as she clenched them so tight, her knuckles had turned white.
“Sebastian,” Sargon shouted jovially when he spotted me walking through the crowd. He gestured for me to join them, moving his gaze to my disheveled hair and wrinkled clothes. His expression hardened.
I reached them, focusing only on Olivia. She didn’t want to be here. I could just feel it, somehow.
Sargon patted me on the back, then gripped my shoulder tighter than needed. “This is Prince Sebastian,” he said to a tall man with a thin band of gold over a sheet of white covering his head, stopping halfway down his back. His tunic was embroidered with gold stitching which almost glowed against the white. His thick, black eyebrows raised half an inch as he looked me up and down. “Sebastian, this is Ibrahim, theKingof Asland.”
I sank into a bow at my waist, uttering the words “Your Majesty” before rising. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
His thick, guttural accent reminded me of the woman I’d fed on days ago. “You are late,” he stated, then turned his attention to Sargon. He moved gracefully, for a mortal, and raised his hand to the king. “I would like to see my daughter now.”
Sargon glanced at Olivia. “Seraphina,” he snapped, his tone clipped, “will you accompany us?”
She nodded, her throat bobbing as she held back tears, blinking several times. She stood, almost toppling over as she almost missed her step.
