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“Thank you,” I say, because I would love to see my mum through his eyes and learn about her life before me.
We start to walk again, feeling peaceful and serene.
“This place has something about it, something so . . .”
“Otherworldly?” I finish. “Like nothing can touch you here?”
“Yes.” He nods. “Maybe it’s the love I feel filling every inch of the place. I like it.”
“Maybe . . . Maybe you could visit?” I offer.
“There is nothing I would like more,” he replies honestly. “I . . . Uh, the court voted me to be the next king. It’s not something big, but they want to crown me. Would you come? I understand if—” He starts to ramble.
“No one deserves it more. You have spent your entire life protecting our court, so of course they would vote for you to be their king, and I would love to attend,” I say, taking his hand. “I will be your biggest supporter there, and it just might heal the bonds between our courts . . . and us.”
I’m proud of him, I realise, and I’m glad he’s getting his own life—this time with me in it.
“Good.” He grins, taking my hand as we walk. “I’ll look for you in the crowd.”
“And I you.”
Hand in hand, we learn to trust and love again. We start to learn about the other person for who they are. It’s not just a simple blood bond, but a chosen one.
CHAPTERSIXTY-SEVEN
ALTHEA
Once my father is gone, called away by his new duty, I find myself wandering around the court, looking at it from his perspective. He’s right. It’s different from when I first walked in here. It’s not the court, but the feeling in it.
Life, I realise. It’s filled with life and love.
Previously closed rooms are open again, and the sounds of laughter and friendship fill the court. I smile, realising we might just be healing too. We had a second chance, but it truly feels as if we are taking it now and not holding back. My mates are not punishing themselves anymore either.
I’m just about to go in search of my men when I feel something in the air, just like when I felt the god of death coming. They sense it through my bonds and come running, joining me in the room before our thrones just as the air splits and eight beings step out.
There used to be more, but one died for me. I drop to my knees, the others following my action. I might be dumb enough to sass the god of death, but I will not profusely annoy the gods of our world.
I bow my head, knowing it is rude to meet their gazes, not to mention their immense power would likely burn out my eyes—I already feel like I’m being flayed alive with all of them together.
They have come to see us, and for a reason.
“So these are the ones chosen to save the vampyrs?” a feminine voice remarks. None of us answer, unsure what to say. “I must say, I’m impressed.”
I almost jerk from that.
“They did good,” someone else comments.
“There was a lot of bloodshed,” another says.
“Sometimes death is the only way to move forward because it brings rebirth,” another muses.
“Indeed,” the woman agrees. “You can relax. We are not here to hurt you. We are here in peace. You have saved your race. He said you would, but we did not believe him. He believed it so much he willingly gave up his life.”
She means our god.
“Yes,” she answers my internal thoughts, making me wince. “We will not interfere unless we need to. We like to remain impartial and in the background. We are keeping you in your roles to stop this from happening again. Protect your race, make sure they follow the laws, and keep them humble and good. Otherwise, we will be back. Know that we will be watching, but try to have some fun, won’t you?”
Then, just as quickly as they appeared, they are gone. Gods are very busy after all.
