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I glanced down once more at my outfit. “You’re right. Come here.” Pulling Ren into a hug, I squeezed him tight, so grateful that he’d come with me on our adventure. Here in Tribane it was the same day as we’d left, or well, the early hours of the next day, and yet, we’d been through so much in between. “Thank you,” I whispered and he squeezed me back.
“Don’t sweat it.”
After Ren and Demi left only Vas and Sven remained. Their heads were bent as they quietly discussed where they would go.
“Isn’t there someone who might remove your trackers?” I asked hopefully.
“There might be, but it’s too risky,” Vas replied. “It would have to be someone we really trust.”
“I could ask my great-grandfather,” I said, then remembered Roman’s scarf was back in Oreylia, stolen by that dirty thief, Yuri. The only way to contact him now would be to ask my mother, and that would require confessing that I’d gone to Oreylia against her wishes.
“Perhaps,” Vas said. “But for now we must go.” He came to stand before me, sinking his hands into my hair. He stared intensely into my eyes and I trembled at his touch. His look seemed to say, it devastates me to leave you but I must.
“What do you think happened to Jalio and the others who escaped with him?” I asked in a whisper.
Vas’ expression turned solemn. “They were probably recaptured. There were no soldiers on the streets searching for them, and Red Armand wouldn’t have attended the ball if he’d known there were escaped miners on the loose.”
“Not unless the demons overseeing the mine didn’t tell him yet,” Sven suggested.
Vas turned his head, frowning at his friend. “Why wouldn’t they tell him?”
“Maybe they thought they could recapture them before Red Armand found out. That way they wouldn’t be punished for letting miners escape on their watch.”
Hmm, Sven had a point. I could see that Vas thought he did, too.
“Either way,” Vas said finally. “It makes no matter to us. Jalio’s fate is his own. We’re here now, and speaking of which, we really should get going.”
“Okay,” I said, swallowing down the lump of disappointment in my throat. I didn’t want him to go. I’d gotten used to having him around.
“Where is Carra? She should come with us,” Sven said and my heart sank. She was likely still in a coma but I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Nor the strength. I was exhausted, body, mind and spirit. I was also disappointed in myself. I should’ve acted swifter, stabbed Red Armand when I’d had the chance so that they didn’t need to worry about him coming for them again.
“She’s probably sleeping. It might be best if she stays here. She’s still healing, and besides, Red Armand abandoned her last time. If he comes back it won’t be her he’s looking for.”
Sven nodded, seeming to agree. Vas moved away from me and I instantly mourned the loss of him. I yearned to pull him back and kiss him again, just like we’d kissed at the ball. He went to my window and pushed it open. Sven climbed out first and Vas followed. He crouched on the sill, paused, then looked back. There was something in his eyes I couldn’t decipher, something conflicted. “I’ll be in touch,” he said and then he disappeared into the night.
I walked to my window, peering out, but he and Sven were already gone, melted into the shadows. Closing the window, I stared once more at the gown before proceeding to tug it off. I balled it up and shoved it to the back of my wardrobe, then went into my bathroom to take a shower. It was only a few hours ago that Vas and I had shared that nerve rackingly intimate bath, but I’d sweated up a storm since then and the silky fabric of the gown hadn’t helped.
I could still feel the power of Vas’ blood rushing through my veins.
Perhaps that was why his teleportation magic had run out. I’d been too greedy, taken too much blood. How lucky we were that the demon gargoyle had turned up when she had to fly us to the portal.
I was almost done in the shower when I heard my parents arrive home. Nervous energy filled me. I fretted they’d somehow know what I done and where I’d gone. My dad would sniff out that I was withholding something.
I stepped out of the shower, dried off then wrapped myself in my robe just as I heard my mother call out, “Darya, can you come down here, please?”
Worrying my lip, I slid my feet into some slippers and anxiously went downstairs. My parents both stood in the living room. Dad was by the mantel, his head bent as he stared at the floor like he was disappointed, while Mum approached me, arms folded.
