by Am Hudson
“What?” I yelled. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re cute when you’re mad.”
“Don’t be so condescending!” I hit him in the chest with a rather pathetic fist.
He caught it and held it tight, still laughing at me. “And you hit like a girl.”
“And you grieve like a child!” I stepped back and jerked away from him. “You’re doing exactly what you always do, David. You’re running on auto and it’s tearing a rift between us.” My voice broke as I pointed to my chest. “I can’t lose you again. I—”
“You won’t lose me,” he sighed, walking over to hold me; I stepped away. “Ara, I’m sorry. Okay—”
“No, you’re not. You’re just trying to simmer things down so you don’t have to argue with me.”
One corner of his mouth angled up sharply as he laughed, looking away. He scratched that corner and then nodded to himself before bringing his eyes back to mine. “Shit.”
“What?”
“You’re right. I am doing that, aren’t I?”
I looked sideways and then down at my hands before looking back at him, not sure if he was trying to be funny or if he was taking this seriously now.
He drew a long breath through his nose and held it as he sat down on Arthur’s bed, exhaling into his hands. “I can’t grieve, Ara,” he confessed. “I don’t know how any more.”
My high shoulders dropped and I walked over to sit beside him, jumping a little to actually get up on the bed. “You cry,” I explained simply. “And you tell those you love how much it hurts. And they tell you it will all be okay, even though you don’t think it ever will be but then, after a while, it just is.”
He lifted his hand and put it back down on my knee, after some consideration. “And what if you’re afraid of weighing those you love down with a grief that just never seems to go away?” he said. “You’ll get sick of me, Ara. You’ll sigh or roll your eyes or—”
“David, I would never do that.” I put my hand on his. “I don’t know how you can even think that.”
He closed his eyes slowly, shaking his head. “You’re right. Again. I don’t know why I thought that either.”
I leaned in and put my head on his shoulder. “Maybe everyone else is getting in the way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Vicki says I shouldn’t talk to you about how I’m feeling, because you’re not coping with your own emotions and that, if you try to fix me too, you might end up overwhelmed.”
“And you think she’s wrong?” he said. “Because she’s the expert.”
“Yes, but you and I aren’t like other people. We’re… you’re my therapist. You’re the only person that’s ever really been able to get through to me. Maybe we should be talking to each other.”
“Well, how are you feeling?” he asked with interest. “Because, to look at you, talk to you, it’s like you’ve moved on—like you’re coping better than I am.”
I laughed, tossing my head back a bit. “Don’t compare your insides to others’ outsides, David.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, you feel like shit inside—you’re suffering with grief so thick you can’t breathe. But when you look at me, I look like I’m okay, so you feel even worse, thinking that you’re not as strong as I am and then you wonder what’s wrong with you—why you haven’t moved on as easily as everyone else.” I laughed again. “I haven’t moved on, David. I miss my dad every day. I worry every day. I feel empty and sad sometimes, and I only just stopped crying myself to sleep—”
“You cry yourself to sleep?” He turned and his hand swept gently along my face, as if to wipe the tears away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was trying not to burden you,” I explained. “You know what you’re like. If you’re trying to fix me, you won’t stop to think about your own needs, and then neither of us will heal.”
His hands squeezed my face a little bit too tight, then he leaned toward me very slowly and kissed my mouth, holding there until I moved back.
When he opened his eyes, the green had changed a little and there was a smile behind them. “We need to fix each other, Ara. I’ve been feeling incredibly inadequate these last few months—thinking I was weak, telling myself I need to get over it, like you have.”
“We’re both so silly.” I shook my head. “No good ever comes from us keeping things from each other. Not for any reason.”
“You’re right. And we forgot that, but let’s make a pact, right now, never to do it again.”
I offered him my pinkie.
He smiled at it and wrapped his over mine.
***
My heart felt light the entire way down to the kitchen. David could be so unwittingly hurtful sometimes and then he could turn it all around and be the sweetest, most loving guy in the world. After our little argument, I finally felt like we were on the same page again, and I knew neither of us would stray from it now. Learning to be married takes time, I knew that. Trusting each other does too, and we wouldn’t always get it right, but we were both clearly willing to fight it out until the problem was fixed. It gave me hope for us—for our human problems, that it seemed would never truly end. But I liked that.
As I turned the corner and took the narrow corridor toward the kitchen, filled with the bright fluorescent light, it surprised me to hear another voice in there with Falcon. And considering how much he hated her before she was murdered by David, it shocked me to hear that the other voice was Morgana.
She rocked back in her chair, her fingertips curled around a mug, laughing loudly along with Falcon. I almost turned around and left them to it, but she saw me and waved me into the room.
“We were just talking about Elora’s first smile,” she said.
“So… why were you laughing?” I asked, sitting down beside Falcon.
“Because she has a pretty smile,” he said softly. “And I said that she’s going to break some hearts.”
“To which I replied that, no, David would—if any guy ever even so much as looks at her.”
I laughed, but that whole notion gave me a sinking feeling. No one but me knew about her soulmate—who he was or the fact that she even had one—and when David one day found out who I Bound her to, he would definitely do some ripping.
“We didn’t mean to offend you, Ara,” Falcon said, clearly noticing the look on my face. “We were just—”
“It’s not that,” I assured him. “I was just thinking about other things.”
“I’ll take that as my cue to go,” Morg said, standing up.
“No, you don’t have to leave, Morg,” I insisted.
“You clearly came in here to talk to Falcon about something.” She looked knowingly at him. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Night,” Falcon said.
She lingered on the threshold of the doorway and smiled softly back at him. “Night.”
A sudden flood of disbelief sunk through me and moved my eyes onto Falcon’s face. “So you two are friends now?”
“Something like that.” He stood up, grabbing Morg’s coffee cup and taking it to the sink.
“Have you talked to her about Hunky Doctor?”
“Not really.” He put the iron kettle on the stove and lit the burner. “You want cream?”
“Sure.” I sat back, watching him. “So what happened then—with the doc? Why do you look so sad lately?”
“I thought he’d leave me when I told him the truth about me, but you were right.” He spun around and leaned on his hands where they cupped the rim of the countertop. “That just made me a whole lot cooler in his eyes.”
“And?” I laughed. “How is that a bad thing?”
He turned away and used a scoop of coffee in a mug to hide what he was feeling. “I think, no, now I know, I wanted him to back away.”
“Oh?”
“Ever since I lost the one girl I’ve ever loved, I do that—I fall in love and then push people away. It’s… a habit,
I guess.”
“And you pushed him away?”
“I tried, but he was a lot more interested than I ever counted on.”
“Isn’t that a good thing—that he’s willing to fight for you?”
“In ways.”
“But?”
“But…” The layer of hesitation was almost physically pinning him down. “You know I love you—” He faced me again, and exhaled deeply. “You have always been like this mix of a little sister and a really good friend, and…”
“Oh God.” I pinched my nose, lowering my face. “Please don’t tell me you got caught up in Lilith’s Curse—”
“No, nothing like that,” he said quickly, with a sense of urgency in his tone. “Seriously, I will never love you that way, but…” He deliberately and decisively left the ‘but’ hanging.
“But?”
“But, I have always thought you were…”
“Were?” I said with a huge smile mirroring his.
“Pretty,” he said in that decisive way. “And sweet. And I’ve always liked a lot about you.”
“Okay…” I said, dragging the ‘ay’ out. “So where is this going?”
“It-made-me-see-someone-that-looks-like-you-in-an-entirely-different-light-than-I-otherwise-would,” he muttered, stringing it all together so fast I wasn’t sure I actually heard him. “I don’t know where it’s going yet, but… I like her in a way that surprises me sometimes—I find myself thinking about her when she’s not around and I find myself laughing a lot around her, too—”
“Hang on,” I cut in over the speedy rambling. “Falcon, who are you talking about?”
His shoulders sunk. He brought my coffee cup over, without the hot water in it, and handed it to me. “I let Marcus go because I was developing feelings for her since that day at Elysium when I saw her use her magic for good and…” His voice trailed off under the awkwardness.
My eyes widened around the realisation. “Morgana!”
He cringed—visibly.
“You’re falling for my sister!”
“Not falling for.” He held a finger up to make his point. “No. I’m just… seeing her in a different light,” he explained, sitting down. “And until I… until I know for sure what those feelings are, I couldn’t very well stay with Marcus and drag him along into this mess.” He dropped his head into his hands.
“It’s not a bad thing.” I tilted my head sideways as if talking to a small child. “She’s not entirely evil and mean.”
He laughed, but it seemed more like a release of pressure. “After all she did to hurt you, Ara, how can I feel anything for her?”
“Well, I wish I could say that it was the Curse of Lilith, given that she’s a direct descendant, but you never fell under that curse with me, so I guess it just comes down to the fact that she’s not all that bad when she’s not trying to betray us all.”
I half expected him to laugh, but he just smiled in a kind of goofy lopsided way that I’d never seen before.
“And,” I added, “I’m guessing she feels the same way about you.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because I offered for her to come play humans with us in the real world, and she said no. But she wouldn’t really give me a reason.”
The goofy grin grew into a real one, but he wiped it away quickly and sat taller. When I followed his eyes to the man standing behind me, I got the same sense of dread.
“David,” I said nervously. “How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to know that your most trusted advisor is now tainted by that traitorous—”
“That’s enough.” I stood up. “Morgana has made amends, David. When are you going to see that?”
“After what she put me through? Never.” He sat down and grabbed my cup, as though he meant to drink from it, then just frowned at the mix of instant coffee and cream, pushing it away after.
“She loved you.” I sat down with him. “That’s why she did it. She thought I was poison to you.”
“As you’ve said a hundred times before.” He folded his arms. “It changes nothing.”
“He’s right.” Falcon sunk down in his chair. “It shouldn’t change a thing. I should still be wary of Morgana—disgusted by her.”
“Well, you’re not,” I stated flatly, standing up to leave. “So I guess that means you’re just as kind deep down inside as I am.”
“And what does that say about me?” David asked in a high tone, turning in his seat as I walked to the door.
“That you could use a lesson or two in forgiveness.”
“I did forgive her.”
I just raised my brows at him.
“Besides.” He looked at Falcon. “Sorry to inform you, but she’s seeing someone.”
“Who?” we both practically yelped.
David smiled knowingly, sitting back and folding his arms to lock in this little secret.
“Tell me now, or I’ll tickle your feet when you fall asleep!” I demanded.
David laughed. “Fine. It looks as though the traitor has paired up with the sufferer of the Curse—maybe even broken it.”
“Morg is with Blade!” I gasped, while Falcon just sat back coolly.
“All I know is that they go for long walks and spend a lot of time talking.”
I looked at Falcon, whose expression was mixed with a combination of relief and disappointment.
“My advice?” David looked at him. “Move on. You’re safer that way.”
Falcon nodded as though this was actually good advice.
David stood then and took my coffee cup. “Sit back down, Ara. I’ll make you a real cup of coffee.”
“I’ll go.” Falcon got up.
“No, you can stay,” David said, taking Falcon’s cup, too. “You’re one of Ara’s closest friends. You shouldn’t feel alienated with me in the room.”
The bulge in Falcon’s throat moved. I knew that a part of the hurt was still lingering in him from when David turned around as he watched the car drive away that day—with me and Safia in it—and blamed Falcon. There’s no way he was to blame, and David knew that, but Falcon still did and always would carry that on his shoulders—just as he would carry the blame for not safely delivering my baby into the world. And that blame had made him feel guilty and fearful around his King, which would most likely never change.
Or so I thought, until he propped his feet up on the chair across from him and said, “Two sugars, while you’re at it.”
I laughed and sat back down beside his feet. “Taste it first—you might not need sugar in David’s coffee.”
“Unless I poison it,” David said sharply, but Falcon laughed, catching the joke despite the very real undertone of malice. I looked at David to see if he was kidding or serious, and the slight shrinking of his eyes gave him away for the true kind person he actually was deep inside. He’d never apologise to Falcon for blaming him, but I knew he no longer did. And I think Falcon was getting a sense of that too. Finally.
***
Our last day at the manor came around quicker than I thought it would. All our stuff had been packed away tightly in boxes and shipped off in a small moving van yesterday, leaving only David, Elora and me left to go. But there was one last, and most important, ceremony to hold first.
David stood behind me in his dark blue ceremonial uniform, the cream sash across his chest and a brown leather sword belt to decorate the outfit, and I’d dressed in a stunning dark blue gown with my shiniest diamond crown—the last crown I would wear for a while.
Emily and Mike watched via video link, the camera stationed at the base of the steps below our Thrones, and little Elora watched from her Aunty Morg’s arms as we stood before our people, handing out medals of honour to those that had played a part in winning this war.
Each of the girls that had helped me escape the cell were here, and I’d even managed to learn all their names before the ceremony.
As they stood proudly along the second step
, their medals pinned to their shirts, I took a moment to step down onto their level and express my gratitude as an equal, not as their Queen.
“I feel as though a mere medal is a rather poor way to thank you all for what you’ve done,” I said to them, “but I hope that it can express how eternally grateful I am for your help. I didn’t know it at the time, but without you, I would never have made it out of that cell, and it’s possible that I might not be standing here today. I owe you all more than I can possibly express, and I wanted you to know that you will always have a place here among friends at Loslilian, and the eternal friendship of the Queen.”
They bowed to the raucous applause, stepping down after to watch me hand out the final award.
Falcon brought it forward, laid out in a box lined with blue velvet.
“It has been spoken of, and many stories have been passed around since that day, but until the story hit the Lilithian Times early this morning, the truth has not been told,” I said. “The Old King had worked tirelessly in fear these past centuries to see that the evil witch Anandene did not reincarnate. He was oftentimes unsuccessful in his pursuits and was forced to bring more harm than good but, in the end, he gave his own life for this cause and so, today, I award him our highest honour.” I held up the medal; it was heavy for such a small thing, carrying the weight of everything it meant to me. “My only regret is that he can’t be here to accept it personally.” I looked across the crowd at Morgana. “So I would like to ask my sister, his daughter, to accept it on his behalf.”
A few hushed whispers spread among the crowd, weaving their way through the heads and curtains of hair, coming to my ears with mostly distrust and lingering uncertainty. It was habit, I suppose, not to trust Drake—for my people anyway. Most of the vampires here seemed happy to accept that he was mostly good and that this entire Lilithian-Vampire hate war had been a cover-up for something more important. Nothing, I realised, surprised them when it came to Drake. And I understood that now, too—after getting to know him better. He could be as cold and scary as he could kind and loving. This was just a fact we all accepted about him. It hardly surprised most vampires to learn that he was truly good all along, while the Lilithians would still never believe it. Conspiracy theories were already bouncing around the people.
