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So, we walk through the woods in silence. And eventually, we happen across a troll. In silence. And so it continues through the rest of the night until the dark of night recedes into the blue of burgeoning morning. Then we turn back in the direction of the castle, both of us disappointed that our monster slayings didn’t produce Derith’s brother. Though I’m not exactly surprised—I didn’t expect to see him during our first attempt.
Once we reach the castle, Derith walks me up the stairs. I think he’s going to leave me outside my room, but he just stands there and stares at me.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I just…”
“Yes?” I quirk an eyebrow at him. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head a little.
“I just wanted to wish you a good slumber…” he says, but his breathing quickens slightly.
“Thank you,” I respond and then reach for the doorknob but hesitate. I turn back to face him. “I’m sorry about the locket.”
He nods and then turns around, heading back down the hallway.
I enter my room, but instead of sleeping, I sit on the bed, deep in thought.
By the time the sun has fully risen, I’ve come to a decision: I’m leaving. I don’t belong here and it’s my time to go, our agreement be damned. I will find Balor and I’ll kill him on my own and maybe Derith will thank me when the time comes. But I’ve tarried too long as it is and this partnership or whatever it is between us is making me beyond uncomfortable, because the truth of the matter is that I’m starting to feel things for Derith I have no business feeling. And this truth was at no time more evident than by the feelings that filled me when he discovered the stolen locket. I was ashamed, angry with myself and hurt that I’d hurt him. And that means I’m losing my touch—my hardened walls I’d fought so long to build feel as if they’re starting to crumble. I can’t and I won’t allow feelings for a man, for a vampire, to weaken me. I have to leave.
I toil in my room for the better part of an hour, trying to work up the nerve to leave the castle and never come back, but I can’t seem to make my body move toward the door. It’s as though I’m frozen. Why? Because I know Derith is fully expecting to find me waiting for him when he emerges from his crypt tonight.
I’ve learned that feelings equate to weakness, but somehow, Derith doesn’t make me feel weak. No, he makes me feel things that are foreign and strange—feelings I have no business feeling and furthermore, feelings I don’t want to feel. He makes me feel like I’ve got something to lose.
I take my first step out of the room, and it feels like I’m committing some act of treachery. It doesn’t get better as I descend the stairs. But I pick up the pace once I reach the portcullis. Just through it is freedom and the thought spurs me on.
I’m almost to the treeline when I hear a rumble of thunder.
I look up and find a flurry of storm clouds above me. They’re entirely blotting out the sun.
Morning or not, if the sun isn’t out, Derith can come find me as soon as he gets wind that I’ve left, which, I imagine won’t be far off—Kellen is bound to tell him.
I sprint into the woods just as it starts to rain. It pours down bullets, striking my skin and leaving little red marks from the sheer force of it. I run, not stopping, not looking back—I just am overcome with the need to get away from the castle, from Derith, from the feelings that have cropped up within me like weeds in an otherwise beautiful garden.
Ifeelsomething for Derith. And that’s not good. Not only do I not want to feel something for anyone, I especially don’t want to feel something for a vampire, an undead creature of the night. And yet…
I hear a crunch, distinct and sharp. Something stepped on a twig. And it wasn’t me.
I come to a dead stop and spin around, trying to see whoever or whatever is following me, figuring it must be the vampire in question. I don’t know what I’ll say to him—how I’ll explain why I’ve left. One thing I do know though—the last thing I’ll admit to are these stupid feelings that have been welling up within me. I can just imagine his reaction—no doubt a cold, insulting laugh.
I make out the outline of his body, just a few yards away, shrouded in shadow.
And then I feel it—a tingling in my spine mixed with icy dread in my gut.
When I see him, my hands go clammy and cold. My skin prickles with gooseflesh. My bobby blade in my hand drops to the ground simply because I can’t summon the strength to hold a fist for another second. I’m weak, vulnerable, and exposed to the man before me.
I try to take a step back, but I fail, remaining still, because this isn’t Derith.
“Take another step and it will take a week to collect all the bits of you,” I warn. I may not have any strength left, but I can style it out with the best of them.
Ignoring my threat completely, the figure steps out of the shadows.
“Is that right?” To my surprise, it’s not Balor, though there’s no doubt in my mind that this is one of his minions.
Before I can shoot back some witty barb of my own, a pair of massive arms close around me, crushing the breath from my chest and lifting me up off the ground. Troll. I’d been so focused on the stranger—so convinced it was my ultimate enemy—that I hadn’t heard the thing coming.
Stupid mistake.
“Put me down!” I yell, ineffectually.
