by Ciara Graves
I sat on a bench at one of the many long tables in the hall, looking into my empty goblet. There was only one person I wanted to see, but she hadn’t awakened yet. Macron came to me the day before to say they’d done all they could and now it was up to her.
Too anxious to sit still, and not in the mood for all the cheerfulness surrounding me, I exited the hall and hurried through the fortress. When I reached the door leading to Seneca’s room, I sat down on the cold stone outside the door, and waited. Macron was in there. I wasn’t allowed inside, not yet, but I was going to sit outside her door until she woke up.
I shut my eyes and ran through every memory of Seneca, starting with the night she staked me. I smiled softly at that one, then let my mind continue to wander.
Our time in Otherworld rushed to the forefront. The first time we kissed, when I held her in my arms and realized she was so much more to me than just some half-vampire, half-fae hybrid. Watching her fierceness as she fought. Hearing her laughter when we had moments to not think about death hovering over our shoulders.
Each night when we slept beside one another, keeping her nightmares at bay. I never told her she did the same for me. How her mere presence was enough to ease my tortured mind and soul. My hands curled into fists on the stones. How could I go on without her? Rudarius was dead, and all I wanted to do was see her back in my arms.
If she couldn’t be here with me, if she was lost, then I’d be lost right along with her.
A door opened, and I jerked upright. I must’ve fallen asleep at some point. My skin prickled, telling me the sun was up by now.
“Draven,” Macron whispered from the open doorway, a smile on his face. “Come on inside.”
“Is she awake?” I asked, hurrying to get to my feet.
“She was, but only for a couple of minutes. When she wakes again, I’m sure it’s your face she’d like to see instead of mine.” He motioned to a chair by her bedside.
Seneca rested on the bed wearing one of her oversized sweaters and black yoga pants. Her left hand was by her side. Her right arm, bandaged and missing a hand, laid across her body. She wasn’t bound anymore, and the rune on the floor had been washed away. She simply looked like she was sleeping. Her wounds were visible but better than when I saw her last.
“And her soul?”
“It still needs to heal, but I believe she’s going to be fine.” His smile faltered though, and I waited for the bad news. “I didn’t get a chance to tell her, but there is no magic left within her. She is still fae of course, but the power of her people is gone. Cut out.”
“I did that, didn’t I?”
He nodded, and I appreciated his honesty. “You had no choice. She will understand. You saved her life, Draven, that is more important.”
She would never be able to use her fae magic again. Not that there were any rings left to channel it, but there was always a chance. I sat down in the chair and held her good hand. Macron said he’d be close by if I needed anything, then was gone. I tried to think of something to say, but there were no words. I looked at her face instead, tracing my fingers down her cheeks then rested my forehead on her arm. Waiting.
It was all I could do.
Wait.
Time passed, but I didn’t pay attention to it. Didn’t move from the chair.
Eventually, Seneca stirred, and her hand squeezed mine.
I sat up, watching as she sucked in a deep breath, then her eyes fluttered open. They glanced around, confused until they landed on my face.
“Hey, old man,” Seneca whispered, her voice rough.
Tears of relief burned in my eyes as I smoothed her hair from her forehead and kissed her softly. “Hey, yourself.” I wanted to say so much more, but the words became lodged behind a lump in my throat. She reached over to my cheek, trailing her fingers down it, and gently I held that hand. I kissed each fingertip then let my head fall to the bed. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” The covers rustled, and when I straightened, she was sitting up. “Draven, you’re not the one who failed.”
“I thought I lost you. I found you, and there was only darkness.”
She sniffed hard, wiping at her eyes with her one good hand. “And you saved me.”
“At what cost? You nearly died anyway. You still might not make it.” I choked on the words.
She took hold of my shirt and tugged, not hard, but enough the message came across. She scooted over in bed, and I climbed up to sit beside her. I kissed the top of her head and held her to my side.
For a few seconds, she was completely still. Then her shoulders shook, and I held her as she cried, as she broke down in my arms.
Her recovery was going to be long and hard.
Macron promised not to lie to me about her condition, and I wasn’t about to lie to her either. Time was what she needed. Time without fighting or violence. Time to let herself heal from the inside out. And I’d be there by her side every single day, from now until eternity.
After a while, her tears stopped flowing, and she held up her right arm, looking at the missing appendage. “It’s strange. I can still feel it.”
“I’m sorry.”
She laughed, surprising me. “For what? Chopping off my hand instead of killing me?”
I started to say yes, then stopped and laughed with her. “Good point. Besides, Macron said he’s going to fashion a new one for you.”
“No rush. I’m good with not having any magic in my life for a while.”
I grimaced. “Seneca, because of what I did… I don’t… I mean you won’t be able to…” I rested my head against the headboard then finally said, “You can’t use magic ever again. I’m so sorry.”
She tilted my face toward her with her left hand and smiled. “I’m okay with that.”
“You are?’
“After all the shit I’ve been through? Yeah, I am. I have my life. I have you. I don’t need anything else in my life.”
I wrapped my arms around her, never wanting to let go again. “No more scaring me like that, alright? My old vampire heart can’t take it,” I teased.
She chuckled quietly and snuggled closer.
“Seneca?”
“Hmm?”
“I have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, or the next month or year, but I know I don’t want to live without you.” I debated on what to say next, trying to find the perfect words, then gave up and simply asked, “Marry me?”
She sat up and looked intently into my eyes. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah, I am.”
For a horrible second, I thought she was going to say no. Then she leaned in and kissed me, sliding onto my lap so she could hug me close as she did so. “What do you think?” she muttered against my lips, and I kissed her again, passionately.
The door opened, and we broke apart as Macron walked in, head down. When he glanced up, he sighed, though a smile played at his lips. “Honestly, you two. Can you not wait for your wounds to heal first?”
Seneca shrugged. “We’re getting married.”
Macron blinked then broke into a huge grin. “Shall I go share the good news? Perhaps give you two a bit more time alone?” He wiped at his eyes and mumbled something I couldn’t hear.
Seneca carefully climbed off the bed with my help and walked to Macron. She touched his shoulder and then he was hugging her, crying on her shoulder.
“Thank the gods you’re awake again,” he whispered as I sat on the edge of the bed, watching and grinning. It appeared in the short time she’d woken earlier, they had a chance to talk and were right with each other once more.
“I am.” Seneca leaned back and carefully dried Macron’s cheeks. “I’m alive, and I’m getting married. Never saw that coming, did you?”
“Can’t say I did. Now, how about you take a walk, stretch your legs. You’ve been in that bed for two weeks. Time to get back to the land of the living.”
I walked to Seneca’s side and offered her my arm.
“My lady?”
She rolled her eyes but wrapped her left arm around my right. “Guess I should let everyone else know I’m alive, right?”
“Probably be a good idea.”
We exited the room, talking quietly about plans as we roamed the halls. Macron and the mages cleansing of the fortress had indeed cleared out any hint of the monster who used to reside here. There was no lingering hint of his magic or his cruelty. I hesitated each time we entered a new hall or room, but no memories crashed into me. I was at peace.
“So this wedding of ours,” Seneca mused as we came to a stop at the balcony overlooking the main entrance, “when were you hoping it would take place?”
“As soon as we can.”
“Uh, huh,” she mused, trailing her fingers along my shoulder. “So tonight?”
“Tonight?”
“Why not? No point in waiting, right? And I just… I uh…” Her cheeks burned bright red as she tilted her head and gave me a funny look. “You being old-fashioned is driving me nuts, alright? And yeah, I’d like to marry the guy I love before another war breaks out or one of us almost dies again.”
I grinned and leaned in, her breath catching as I barely brushed my lips against hers. “Then tonight, it is.”
“Great, that’s great.” She kissed me then backed away with a teasing smile. “I’m going to see about getting that new hand, or a temporary hand. Some sort of hand,” she rambled.
“I’ll take care of everything else. See you at midnight? The garden?”
She brightened, bobbing her head excitedly. “Gardens will be perfect.” Then she spun on her heel and hurried away.
I laughed to myself as steps approached from behind me.
“She’s awake,” Shane commented.
I turned to find him standing with Marlie and Owen. “She is. I need your help.”
Owen’s eyes narrowed, and I wondered if it was a good idea having him around. But he said he was happy for Seneca and me, accepted that I was, in fact, the good guy. And the right guy for her.
“And what might that be?” he growled.
“I need to plan a wedding by midnight.”
Shane shouted as he hugged me. Marlie nodded in approval.
Owen took a second longer than them to react, but he bowed his head, a small smile playing across his face. “It’s about time she was happy,” he told me. “What do you need?”
For the next several hours, those who could be in the sunlight rushed around Madwich while the rest of us kept busy at the fortress, gathering decorations, calling in everyone who might be able to help with the food and preparations.
Helena and Minnie tucked Seneca away so there wasn’t a chance of my seeing her before the ceremony. Around eleven, Marlie found me and dragged me away to my room to get ready. On the bed was a formal set of black breeches, black shirt, black overcoat, boots, and dark blue vest. He told me not to leave the room until they came to get me. I wanted to argue, but he gave me a stern look and disappeared.
I took my time changing, smiling all the while. I was getting married. It was strange but damned was I happy. We survived the war, we killed Rudarius, and though there might be rough roads ahead, Seneca and I would face it all together.
Once I was ready, I smoothed my hands through my hair and paced around the room, waiting.
The minutes ticked by too damned slowly. Eventually, Marlie and Shane fetched me, both in formal wear matching mine, except all black.
“The gardens await,” Shane said with a wink.
“What did you two do?”
“Don’t worry. She’s going to love it,” Marlie promised.
We wound our way through the fortress, empty except for a few people, here and there. As we exited and marched across what had been a bloody battlefield just two weeks ago, music drifted along the night breeze. Soft strings played a sweet melody. Tables were scattered all around the garden and Seneca’s cottage. A newly constructed dancefloor was just outside the garden gate. More tables of food and wine stretched off to the right and left of the gate. All the guests were already seated in chairs filling the garden. Heaters were scattered about to chase back the chill of the night.
Macron waited for me under the branches of the oak tree as the orbs of light floated around us, greens and blues, even a few vibrant violets.
“We are ready to begin,” he announced.
I took my place, Shane and Marlie behind me. The music changed to a softer tune, and the back door to the cottage opened.
I straightened, clenching my jaw as everyone turned.
Minnie and Helena exited first, both wearing dark blue dresses that trailed behind them. They found their seats in the front row, the blind seer giving me two thumbs up. Helena offered an encouraging smile.
Then another figure appeared in the doorway.
I stilled.
Seneca was beyond beautiful in the pale moonlight and flickering candlelight of the garden. Her long red hair lay loose over her shoulders. A simple silver chain adorned her neck, and a circlet rested atop her head, twisting and twining like a tree branch. The gown of emerald brought out her eyes and trailed behind her. It hugged her curves, the corset top intricately detailed with dark threads and beads. The bouquet in her hands was a simple gathering of white hydrangeas. Long green gloves reached to her elbows, but there was definitely a hand in the right one.
I glanced to Macron, hoping he read the gratitude in my eyes, then Seneca had my full attention again.
She walked toward me, and I grinned wider to see her barefoot beneath the gown.
When she reached me, Helena took the bouquet. I held Seneca’s hands as she nibbled her bottom lip, eyes shining.
“You clean up well, old man,” she teased.
“Not so bad yourself.”
Macron cleared his throat loudly, and we laughed as we turned to him. “If we can begin?”
Seneca and I nodded and let him conduct the ceremony.
Sometime in the later hours of the morning, I awoke, glancing at the closed curtain in Seneca’s bedroom. She slept quietly at my side, shifting closer, but stayed asleep. I kissed her shoulder then tugged the blankets up higher to keep her warm. Last night was fresh in my mind, and I grinned as I took in the mess of the bedroom. My clothes were scattered on the floor. Her dress was haphazardly thrown over the dresser mirror. One of the gloves ended up on the fan blade.
Her new, golden hand curled against my chest, and I sank back to the bed, drawing her in.
“You okay?” she murmured, not even opening her eyes.
“Just about perfect, love. Go back to sleep.”
She mumbled something else, but then was out once again.
I contented myself with watching her, feeling her heartbeat, hearing her steady breathing.
She was alive.
None of this was a dream.
Seneca and I were alive. And married.
I smiled, wishing my father had been there to see it.
It was time to start a new legacy of my own now.
A vampire and a dark fae.
Never would’ve seen this one coming.
Chapter 13
Seneca
Six Months Later
I opened the door to our bedroom and closed it quietly behind me, grinning. Draven leaned on the dresser, head hanging, muttering to himself.
“Hey,” I finally said, and he jumped. “Wow, you really are freaking about this.”
“Not freaking out,” he argued as I reached him. He kissed me sweetly. “Nervous.”
“Why?”
“It’s a big deal, and frankly I had no idea this was going to happen.”
I pulled him over to the large mirror and sighed. “Not sure how you didn’t see this coming. Who else would they choose?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Nathaniel? Someone else. Anyone else.”
“But they chose you, and hey, at least they like me now.”
He shook his head as he spun around to face me. “That’s it
. I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.” I marched into the massive closet we’d added to our bedroom and searched for the crimson cloak needed for the ceremony about to take place.
After our wedding, while I continued to heal from my internal wounds and the tears to my soul, Draven went to work reshaping Rudarius’s fortress. It had remained here in the human realm after the rift closed. As such, we claimed it as our new home and the new central location for the Bleeding Crown Coven. It had taken time to get it the way we wanted, but now it was finished. There was no more dungeon, or torture chamber. The throne room had been turned into a massive garden, and our room was as big as my whole cottage.
And Draven even kept his promise about the fields surrounding our new home. The orchard had been planted, as had a massive garden. Plans for a greenhouse were underway. A few years from now, this whole place would look exactly as I hoped.
With the addition of a giant fortress as my house, of course.
I’d been worried it wouldn’t feel like home, but after being here so long, I couldn’t imagine going anywhere else. Draven being here made it our home. And being near him had helped the healing process along.
Macron had voiced his concern a few times, but then saw for himself how our being together, truly together, was patching the bits of me the magic had torn away.
They’d been replaced by the true love between me and Draven. If I’d had any lingering doubts about my happiness, they disappeared months ago.
With the cloak in hand, I went back to find Draven pacing. “Come here, you’re expected in a few minutes.”
He growled, annoyed.
I raised my brow, and he gave in. I turned him so he faced the mirror and draped the cloak across his shoulders, moving around to tie it in the front.
“What if I mess up?”
“Draven, you managed to unite the covens and stop a war. Have some faith in yourself.”
