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I turned slowly. He didn’t have immortal hearing, but I knew he could sense my magic. There was no pretending I wasn’t here. Begrudgingly, I stood, pulled a dressing gown over my clothes, then opened the door.
His brown eyes regarded me softly, and his shoulders relaxed. “I am terribly sorry to hear of what happened to your friend. Please accept my deepest condolences.”
After hearing it so much in the last year, I hated that word. “Thanks,” I mumbled, stepping aside so he could walk in. I locked the door behind him, in case my mom came back.
Ever since she turned, she’d grown colder, more distant. Our relationship was hanging by a thread, and she spent most of her time with her abusive husband or talking with dignitaries. For someone who supposedly hated this life and everything Sanmorte stood for, she sure seemed content.
Azia sat on the sofa and moved his eyes to my unmade bed. The sheets hadn’t been changed in days, as I kept refusing any mortals to come in and clean. The pillows were still salty from my tears, Sebastian’s cologne clinging to the sheets.
He cleared his throat and looked me in the eye. “Have you eaten today?”
I sat back on the bed, pulling a pillow onto my lap, nestling back into the covers. “Yes.”
He glanced at the full plate Sebastian had brought me earlier and raised a brow. “It’s okay if you’re not hungry. You’re grieving.”
“Are you sure you’re not a therapist?”
He chuckled softly. “I’m not, nor would I want to be. But I do enjoy talking to my students, especially when they’re not okay. What can I do?”
“Nothing,” I said, because it was true. “How many students do you have?” I asked, desperately wanting to think about anything else.
He counted on his hand, then gave me a sly smile. “Just you. Only work with one person at a time. Usually, it’s when His Majesty recruits a new sorcerer or sorceress into our care.”
“What happens to them?”
He shrugged. “Some go on to work in the cities for him, using their powers to detect the truth in those he wants to extract it from, amongst other things. He keeps them close, so he can call on them when he needs something done here.” He paused, the corner of his lip lifting. “Some go on to be princesses.”
I half-smiled, the first light emotion I’d felt in days. Pressing my lips tight until I felt the blood rushing from them, I considered my next question carefully. It had run through my mind many times since Draven was murdered. “We bring so many people back from death. Vampires and, well, me.”
He nodded, a pitiful sigh on his breath.
Still, I continued, “Is there a way for me to bring Draven back? Erianna said it was too late to turn him, as he didn’t have vampire blood or venom in his system, but…”
“Unfortunately, not,” he said softly, cutting me off. “Did he have any interest in becoming a vampire before he died?”
I looked down at my hands, red hair spilling around my face. “No, he hated the thought.”
“I see.” He entwined his ringed fingers together, placing his hands on his knees. “How did you feel when you were being forced to become a vampire, before you knew you would be something else entirely?”
My stomach knotted, a sinking feeling sending waves of nausea through me. “I resented everyone involved.”
“Do you think your friend would resent you if there was a way to bring him back?”
“Yes,” I breathed, “but, I mean,isthere a way to bring him back without the curse, or just as a mortal again?”
He shook his head. “He is at peace now, and in my experience, disturbing the spirits who have already passed on never ends well. It is too late.”
It didn’t matter how tall he built those walls; I could still sense his lie. There was a way, I just didn’t know what it meant for Draven, his soul, but he was too young to already be gone. He didn’t even get to die with his friends and family in his home. Instead, his body was lying outside, discarded as if he were some mortal who’d been fed on and killed.
Sargon wouldn’t even let me bury him. He was to be burned with the rest, once the King of Asland and his entourage were gone. For now, all bodies were stored in the dungeons, rotting next to the living mortals as a reminder of their inevitable fates.
A shudder stole my next breath, dancing a shiver down my spine. “I want to retrieve Draven’s body, but my father won’t allow it.”
“Perhaps I can speak with him,” Azia offered, then stood. “Please, take all the time you need to grieve. Just know, when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting to continue giving you lessons.” He glanced at the windows and added, “There is no rush.”
“Wait,” I called to him before he could leave. “I do have a question. Were you here when I was a baby?”
He ran his hand over his smooth head and looked back at me. “Yes.”
