by A. M. Hudson
“I don't know. I'm still not so sure.”
“Of course you’re not.” He came up and placed his hands on my waist again. “I made you think I had no faith in you, but I do. And I want this—I want to be a family with you.”
Only so you can leave me as a single mother in order to keep me safe for eternity. “That’s quite a switch from ‘I'm only nineteen’.”
“A lot has changed since then.” He delicately took my hand.
“Okay. Fine,” I said, merely because it served my own purpose. “We’ll start trying again.”
“Great.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek, his dimple showing as he stood back, even in the darkness of this room trapped in the past. “I know we can do this.”
“That’s if I can fall pregnant, David. I can't even calculate ovulation because I haven’t had a period since I first arrived at the manor.”
“And you took the pregnancy test?”
I nodded. “It’s in my drawer, if you wanna see it.”
He hugged me to him, breathing his concern into the crown of my head. “I hope completing the transformation hasn't made you infertile, like other vampires.”
“Don't say that—that would be very bad.”
“I'm sure we’ll be fine.” He kissed the top of my head.
* * *
Everyone clapped as the saltshaker came to rest by a wine glass. I looked to the end of the table, and even David, who I half expected to groan at his brother’s display, was cheering and smiling—happy. I gave a little wave, to which he returned a bow, in a very kingly manner.
“Show us another,” Margret said, clapping.
Jason looked at his uncle bashfully and took up a spoon. Arthur didn't seem too impressed at this show of power, and I think Jase…Jason knew that. He focused on the spoon, holding it in front of his nose, and slowly lowered his hand, leaving the spoon in the air, floating.
I joined in the applause this time, too impressed to play the humble queen, but when David stopped smiling suddenly to glare at me, I lowered my hands into my lap, my eyes following, and sat quietly while our people talked animatedly about Jason’s next cool trick.
“Oh, you are a very talented young man,” Margret said.
“Yes, he is,” David said. “Perhaps my bother’s new role should be Court Jester.”
Everyone laughed. Jason followed with something witty and clever that only amplified that laughter, but I actually didn't even hear it. My mouth felt dry and my dinner was stuck against a huge lump in my throat. And it wasn't because David scolded me for joining in—it was something else. I wasn’t sure why, but it just felt like something was missing—like I’d forgotten something really important, and wherever it was, it made my heart ache.
David's eyes narrowed as he looked past the long line of vampires and saw my obvious sadness. I offered a weak smile and looked back at my lap again. I could feel Jason and Arthur’s eyes on me, too, but I knew if I looked up, Jason's face would be saying “What’s wrong?” and I would think in my mind “Something’s missing.”
What a stupid way to feel. Something’s missing. What could be missing? I had everything. My David was sitting at the head of the table, finally, and tonight, we’d go to bed and I’d fall asleep in his arms, and tomorrow, he’d be king. What more could I possibly want?
I looked up at Jason then, and sure enough, it was there; the concern, the obvious worry in his eyes. I could almost read his mind, see him jumping to his feet to hold me in his arms, but it was David who appeared beside me. “My queen. Care for a walk?”
“Of course, my king,” I said timidly and took his hand. His touch felt cool and familiar, but strangely, not as familiar as it should have been for all the years we’d been in love.
We walked to the garden, and as the loud chatters of our people became distant murmurs, he stopped, turning me in his arms, looking right into my eyes, the moonlight above making his face white, like the dead. “I'm sorry, Ara.”
“Why?”
“I was a jerk today, and…I hurt your feelings. I know that.” He gently squeezed the tops of my arms. “I'm just afraid of losing you, I…you’re the one thing in my life that I've never had control over—”
“But—”
“No,” he said, with wide eyes, tightening his fingers on my arms. “I don't want control, Ara. I don't want to control or own you. I love you. But I just don't know how to keep you—how to make sure I never lose you.”
I slowly lifted my hand up between us and pointed to my wedding ring. “That’s what this means. It means I love you no matter what. It means I will be with you through hell and fire, and it means I will keep my promise to be with you, even when I don't want to keep that promise anymore.”
He nodded once, smiling at my ring. “It’s nice to hear you say that.”
I held my hand to my chest. “Well, I say it because I mean it, okay.”
He nodded again, sliding his hands down my arms to take my hands. “Can you forgive me?”
“For what?”
“For…for treating you that way. I don't want to be that kind of husband—or that kind of man.” He closed his eyes, biting his teeth together. “I promised you I’d changed since we met, and what you saw today was me breaking that promise. I understand you, Ara—I understand that your flirtatious nature is a part of you, and might always be, but I just want to make sure I’ll be the only one you’ll ever love.”
I stepped into him a little more. “Even if death comes for us, you will always be my one true love. Nothing will ever be strong enough to break us apart, David. We’ve been through those fires of hell.” I pointed off to nowhere. “And we always come back. We always will.”
He took my hand delicately and kissed my ring. “I hope so.”
The grand piano my husband learned to play on was old—ancient being a better word. It sat on detailed, heavy-set legs, shining gloriously in a deep mahogany colour, the words Chickering, Boston, in curly letters below the music stand.
It must’ve been a rare piano, probably been here since the eighteen-hundreds.
I stopped playing and listened to the world around me, starting up again when I was satisfied that the door I thought I heard slam was just the wind. My fingers moved fast over the notes, my wrists sore with the extra weight I had to use on the heavy, ancient keys, and I played the sorrowful song of a symphony written by favourite modern band. It was a complex piece, much too intricate for only two hands, which is why it surprised me so much to hear the harmony being played; I looked beside me to Jason, smiling as his hands moved along with mine.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi.” He smiled warmly, and we continued to play. It was like flying, like running a race and looking behind you, knowing you’re winning, and when the song came to its soft, sorrowful end, I rested my hands in my lap, breathing heavily, kind of laughing.
“That was fun.”
“You are a rare talent, Ara-Rose,” he said, kissing my hand. “You play as well as my brother, yet you’re only nineteen human years old.”
“You play pretty well yourself.”
He smiled down at the keys, then closed the cover. “Piano was always really more my brother’s thing.”
“Well, what’s your thing?”
He moved one shoulder in a gentle shrug.
“Jase?”
“Mm?”
“Are you okay?”
He sighed. “Yeah. I'm just…there’re a few things on my mind.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
He looked over his shoulder, up the stairs and down, then back at me. “I'm happy for him—for David. Being king…it’s a dream he’d always held close to his heart. I'm not sure anyone but he, and maybe me, know how much it truly means to him. But I…I don't know if I can be there tomorrow, Ara.”
“Why?”
He swallowed. “I…I wish I could tell you why, but…”
I waited, my heart beating fiercely for the agony in his eyes. “But?”
/> “Never mind.” He forced a smile. “I’ll be there. I’ll go. He’s my brother, after all. I should be there to see him become king.”
I leaned back a little to catch his entire frame in my sight. “Who are you trying to convince?”
He laughed softly. “Myself. I think.”
“Ara?” Mike’s deep voice reached us, breaking us apart from across the room.
“Hey, Mike.”
“Hey.” He walked slowly over, eyeing Jason, then smiled at me. “What’re you doing up so late, baby? You worrying about tomorrow?”
I smiled softly. “Kinda.”
“Come on.” He reached his hand out. “I’ll walk you back up to bed.”
I looked at Jason; he nodded to me, as if to say Mike’s undertone of accusation hadn't offended him, but I knew it did. He hadn't told me himself, but Morgaine filled me in on what happened while I was unconscious—how everyone somehow came to conclude that Jason was to blame for what happened to me, and that the memory loss I experienced was actually his attempt to cover up something horrible he’d done. I took Mike’s hand and gave Jason a reassuring smile as I stood. Night, Jase, I thought.
“Night,” he said, turning back to the piano, lifting the cover as Mike led me away.
When we reached the second floor, I heard the sultry tunes of the third part of that symphony. It pained me to hear it played that way—much slower and more heartfelt than I’d heard before. It almost seemed like a musical message from Jason, screaming out the torment in his soul. But no matter how hard I tried, I’d never be able to free him. Something had come to trouble him since I woke from the coma, and whatever it was, I felt like maybe I’d lost him in a small way—like there was a rift between us now that couldn't be repaired.
“Please don't wander around the manor at night, Ara,” Mike said, startling me a bit. “I can't sleep anymore. I find myself checking the training hall and the beach several times a night.”
“Why not just check my room?” I half laughed.
“It’s not really a conscious decision. I just wake up in a sweat, panicked, and find myself headed down there.”
I squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. David's here. He won't let me fall off the lighthouse again.”
He scoffed, smiling smugly. “He has no idea you’re out of bed now. How long were you two sitting there, anyway?”
“Less than a minute or so.”
“Well, I'm sorry, baby, but David's asked me to keep an eye out for you—keep you and Jason apart.”
“What?”
“Ara, that’s his brother, who is in love with you. Can you blame him?”
I let my shoulders drop. “No. I suppose not. Guess it’s kinda the same as me not liking David around Emily.”
“Exactly,” Mike said, overemphasising his nod. “I'm so glad you finally get it.”
I looked at the corridor ahead, silently counting the windows to my room. “Hey, Mike?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you worried about why I don't remember anything about my fall?”
“I was,” he said in a stern tone. “But, given the state your head was in when David pulled you out of the water, I'm also not surprised. I did question Jason, though—to see if maybe he’d erased something from you?”
“What would make you think he’d erased something?”
He shook his head to himself, sighing. “It’s nothing, really, it’s just that…I can't remember, for the life of me, what I was doing that night. I remember I had to drop some new cuffs off down at the training hall, but I don't remember doing it.”
“Maybe you didn't.”
“Yeah, except the cuffs are in the training hall now.”
I frowned.
“Look, it doesn’t mean anything, really—I’ve seen it happen before, you know. In trauma situations, families of victims can quite often experience mind blanks due to shock. And, I gotta tell you, baby, the things that went through my mind when I saw you that way.” He stopped walking. “I wanted to rip shreds off anyone who’d ever touched you. I wanted to kill David for not being here to protect you. I was so blindly angry I actually punched him in the face.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He looked at his fist. “He shoulda been here. He shoulda been here all along, and none of this woulda happened.”
I rubbed his chest, letting out the breath I’d been holding. “It’s okay, Mike. I'm safe now, and…if it makes you feel any better, you can put guards on my room at night.”
“Really?” His eyes almost bludged out of his head.
“Yeah. Can't have you losing sleep.”
He kissed my hand. “Thanks, Ara.”
“No worries.”
David woke early, slinking out bed without disturbing the covers, and left the room, wearing joggers. Outside, the crows cawed and the excitement of things to come could almost be heard in the very breath of the earth. Today, Mother Nature gained a king; today, David would don his ceremonial dress and, together, we would spill blood on the Stone.
I knew where he was going when he left—knew he needed to run—needed to clear his head because, in his mind, today marked one of the milestones of his life. He always had great respect for royalty, and to become king was an honour I knew he felt deeper than any of us could understand. But that wasn’t why he went running. He went because this also marked one of the first items in his Inventory of Death. All he needed after today was to get me pregnant so he could have the dagger, and then, he believed, he’d be going to his death—leaving me and our unborn child alone, possibly to fall into Jason’s arms, possibly to get a cat, but eternally and definitely safe from Drake. He loved me that much, loved our future child that much that he was willing to die, never to hold her.
I rolled the covers back and sat up, feeling the summer heat in the floorboards under my toes. Across the room, the long double-breasted white coat David would wear to be crowned in sat on the mannequin—all tailored and cut to fit the future king.
I wandered over and ran my fingers down the gold buttons, over the tasselled epaulettes on the shoulders and across the blue sash. I imagined him standing tall and proud in this outfit; imagined this being the happiest day of our lives—one not spoiled by Drake; imagined telling the truth about what I planned to do with Arthur, so that maybe, when that crown touched his head, he could rejoice his rise as king, not mourn the death he was facing.
“Ara?” The door popped open and David walked in.
“Hey.”
“Hey, why are you awake so early?”
“I was worried about you.”
“Me?” He lifted his shirt off. “Why?”
I shrugged one shoulder.
“Seriously.” He stood beside me, touching my arm. “Why are you worrying, sweetheart? It's not like I have to do the Walk of Faith.”
“I know,” I said, looking away from his toned arms, supressing the urge to throw him down on the bed and… “I'm just worried you might be fighting some battle inside that you’re not telling me about.”
“What makes you say that?” he said very softly, tilting my chin to lift my gaze.
I shrugged again.
“My love.” He swept me inward and cradled me against his bare chest. “I love you, okay. And I'm all right. Everything will be all right.”
“I know it will.” I looked up at him. “Because I'm going to make it all right.”
He stared into my eyes for a long breath, clearly trying to read my thoughts, but all he got was a firm glare, determination hovering over a burn of fight behind them that swore, upon pain of death, I would make this all right. I would not let him go—not let him die to save me. “Ara?”
I looked away. “Like you said. Everything will be all right.”
The manor grounds were coloured with faces from all over the world; vampires, Lilithians and humans—all together, all united to celebrate. I smiled, passing each one as I walked toward the Throne Room, bowing my head to staff and guards, guests and visitors. Eve
ryone was charged with the same kind of excitement, but my smile was a little forced. Though I drew on their energy and could relate it, the deeper concern for David's emotions today was eating all that up.
I stopped by the common room and waltzed inside to where Arthur sat in a chair by the window, staring off thoughtfully into the bright summer day.
“Arthur?”
“My dear.” He reached his hand out.
I took it and sat down on the arm of his chair. “Are you okay?”
“Splendid.”
“You look sad,” I said, cocking my head.
“Thoughtful might be a better word.”
I slid down onto the tiny spot next to him, forcing him to shift over a little. “Are you worried about David?”
He leaned his elbow on the armrest, turning his body slightly to look at me. “I'm more concerned about you, actually.”
“Me? Why?”
“I'm not sure you can go through with this plan—to have a child. And once that crown touches my nephew’s head, you will have no choice—if you want to keep him.”
“I know.” I looked down. “But, I have a bit of a problem.”
“What’s that, my dear?”
“He’s been pressuring me to…make a baby with him, because he wants this dagger. But if I sleep with him, then I might actually fall pregnant and—”
“Don't worry.” He patted my knee. “He’ll stop pushing you now. He and I have come to a new arrangement.”
“What arrangement?”
He cleared his throat quietly as he looked down. “He came to me late last night, fighting his dark conscience—told me he was uncomfortable being forced to create life under the wrong circumstances. He said if he was ever to father a child, it should be out of love, not force, and he asked that I reconsider my conditions.”
“Did you?”
He nodded. “He argued a few very good points.”