by Kelsey Quick
“Thank you,” I say, lost in the unfathomable turn of events, my heart swelling.
An unusual quiet befalls the room until he decisively closes the conversation. “Go back to the seraglio and wear that chain proudly. It has never been bestowed upon any human in my supply before.”
Never before?
I nod, stand, and make my exit numbly.
I skim over the shining, untouched chain around my neck. While I should be rejoicing at another step closer to freedom, all I can picture is Anaya’s angry face, maybe even Katarii’s. And even those images are swallowed by Zein’s strange confessions. While slipping the chain around my neck, I make certain to tuck it into my dress and hide the traces with the tales of my ribbon. I don’t care what Zein says, no one needs to see or know about this. I don’t want to deal with the repercussions. For now, I’ll pretend nothing has changed, even though my relationship with Zein has… completely. And for some reason, I don’t hate it.
chapter 13
The night draws to a close and dawn’s brink is imminent. That’s what I assume anyway, after counting my way through the early hours of curfew. What I wouldn’t do for a window. The sun is a blessing that I once took for granted. It provides warmth, happiness, and a sense of being watched over, cared for. Since my arrival beneath the darkness of Cain, I usually only associate one thing with the sun: vampires are weakened by its rays. Under a cloudless sky, I could make good headway toward Abethos. I could maybe even make it before sundown if I never stopped running. My breathing hitches as I dare to even think it, grasping the chain at my chest.
The Laisse is a constant in my mind; cool against my skin, it’s a reminder of everything I don’t understand about Zein, about vampires, about what is really my reality. Nothing makes sense. Why is Zein going to such lengths to be nice to me? Why are all the vampires here somehow different from the rest? I keep my thoughts focused, practicing Essence Dissonance before deciding.
Today, I will find my escape route… and with a convenience such as the Laisse, it will be a lot easier, so long as none of the other supply units find out about it.
Savvy snores on my left, and Glera’s body twitches with dream-filled sleep on my right. As soon as I’m certain that the other girls are in similar states, I stand, and use every stealthy bone in my body to shuffle through the silent hall. The stony floors are prime candidates for soundless skulking, but a metal, spiral staircase? That’s a different story.
I take in the daunting structure and gulp down a growing nausea. It’s going to make noise, the only question is who will it wake up, and what will they assume? My eyes flit around without sense, resting finally on Anaya’s perfect, sleeping form. Even dead to the universe, she’s beautiful—if only she wasn’t a brainwashed product bred for a vampire’s disposal.
She’s the one I would need to worry about the most, but any girl is a problem with how much rumors play a part in this underground world. I take a deep breath and force down my heart. Maybe if I climb it just right, the noise will be a non-issue. Slowly. I take the rail into my uneasy grip and test my weight on it. Then I take the first step. And then the second. A low echo of screeching metal reverberates, but no one stirs, and I hold steadfast to my faith. About midway and an especially loud screech swallows all traces of hope in one fell swoop. Immediately, I scramble upward. If any of them wake up now and see me, the suspicion would already be there, but if I can somehow get out of the room before too many stir, then I have a chance at no one realizing it’s me who left. With any luck they’ll would assume it to be Madam Ceti or Seriesa… I can only hope, anyway.
On the top floor, I trot to the exit of the seraglio, where an unfamiliar attendant now mans the gate.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he states in a low, rumbling snarl. His voice, along with his burly arms marked up to his sleeves with jagged scars awakens goosebumps along my skin. His dark, bleeding eyes pierce mine with nothing short of supernatural animosity. I stand my ground and lift the Laisse from the protection of my robes.
“I believe wherever I want,” I say a bit too meekly and I scold myself for it. Luckily, how I claim my freedom has nothing to do with whether or not the attendants obey protocol.
He narrows his eyes and growls before extending an arm. “Human scum,” he mutters as I pass him, and I reluctantly let him get away with it.
Intermittent light from the dull flower-burning lanterns alleviate my senses. With haste, I pass the fork in the chambers, and ascend the steep climb to the castle’s base. Excitement floods my veins with each servant I pass. All headed to bed in their respective quarters, they glance at me with furrowed brows. But when they notice the Laisse at my chest, they hesitantly redirect their judgments. Once adjusted to my surroundings and the ever-increasing thudding of my heart, I try my best to focus on the task at hand. Where is the castle’s least secure location?
Despite all of the windows and doors on the first level being the prime choice, I’ve noticed on my trips to Zein’s quarters that the heavy rotation of vampire guards seem to leave no gap in security. However, the second and third levels most likely are poorly manned. An idea crosses my mind. The libraries.
I make my way carefully down the stone corridors of the castle, trying my best to remember exactly where we came in from weeks ago. The only route I’ve taken since that time has been the one to Zein’s quarters, leaving me to rely on a broken piece of memory. Dark halls open to more dark halls with prettier flooring and cascading—though dim—lighting, while medium-level doors slowly become tall and wide. I must be nearing the heart of the castle. As paintings and guard placements grow more familiar, I wonder if I recognize it from my escort to the dining hall when Giomar paid a visit. A shiver of fear at the thought of that vampire rushes over my skin, just as I filter into the dim, blue light of the lobby.
There.
At the center, Zein’s bronze form holding a decapitated head of an enemy atop a marble edifice commands the focus of all the room’s adornments. Guards manning the front doors raise their spears at the sight of me until I lift my Laisse for them to glean. On either side of the entrance doors are the twin-staircases shooting diagonally upward to a second-level; to the libraries.
I waste no time climbing the steps. There are only two doors on the landing of the second floor—one leading into the castle, and one leading to the right’s outer rim. I take my chances with the right.
Through the door and I’m met with the heaviest darkness I have ever felt. The weight of it is so tangible that I can’t see my own hand in front of my face, can’t see any of the guards lining the hall—if there are any. Fear trickles through my pores in the form of sweat as I find the far wall of the corridor and slide my hands carefully along the smooth bricks of sandstone. Although it appears this section of the castle has long been empty, a constrictive feeling of being watched envelops me, and I can’t help but speed up my pace.
Sandstone eventually gives way to resin-covered wood on my fingertips, and I halt.
A door!
Swiftly, I fumble for the handle and let myself inside, shutting it directly behind me with all the haste of prey. I tuck my chain back into my dress as I take in my surroundings. The room opens to a wide space of onyx furniture, gleaming cabinets, and displays of armor and swords along the walls and corners. A marine-blue velvet rug with golden embroidery sits flat beneath a low table with glass canisters of green liquid resting on its surface. An armory of sorts? Maybe a negotiation room. There is no way this place could be considered a library—unless a handful of books along the mantel counts. I wouldn’t even be able to see any of these details if not for the saving grace at the center wall: four, tall and massive windows letting in the dull grays of Cain’s dying night—that of an impending dawn.
I rest on the sill and take in the beauty of the landscape beneath me. For a moment I feel like I’ve scaled the Nightingale walls all over again. Something expands in my chest, causing my eyes to brim. For all of Cain’s downf
alls its countryside isn’t one of them. Pastel pinks, yellows, and blues of the flowering Tiltrees; the reds of maples; and forest-green of the pines—all create an illusion of vivacious, rustling rainbows. And in such a tantalizing moment, brought together by emotion, beauty, and the need for power, I consider escaping right now.
I find the clasp on the window, the one keeping me from the crisp air of the outside world, and I slowly place my hand upon it. I consider it, completely outside of myself—until the despairing feeling of being watched shrouds me once again in its veil-like grip.
To the beat of my heart, I turn to see a towering shadow at the crest of the room.
“Are you attempting to leave?”
The shadow materializes, sending my stomach coiling into knots of fear and confusion. Lord Anton Zein, in the flesh, covered by dark leathers and red-dyed robes. An ominous smirk curls into his cheek, and my body tenses. The curves of my fingers pick nervously at the hinges of the window clasp. How long had he been following me?!
“O-of course not, I just… needed fresh air,” I lie between beats.
“I see,” he says calmly as he nears, closing the distance between us. He leans forward against the panels, taking in the world I had considered fleeing into moments before. The hearty scent of fine wine and citrus filters off of him as the silence grows impossibly loud. Finally, he parts his lips.
“Is it because of Nightingale’s poor example that you take me so easily for a fool?”
My heart twists in my chest, sending spasms across my body and freezing every unnecessary line of thought I have.
“I do not take you for a fool, my lord.”
I watch his smile expand from between strands of silver-platinum hair. Within a second, his hand flies to the top of mine, and I nearly squeal.
“Then… why are you shaking, Wavorly?” he asks in a whisper. I try to yank my hand away but he firmly grasps the whole of it, tightening so that I can’t get away. “Surely not because you are afraid of me?”
Swallowing my inhibition, I relent. “I wasn’t trying to leave, nor was I needing fresh air,” I mutter, “I was surveying. Just in case.”
He releases my hand, his fingers brushing the lines of my wrist as he returns to his proud posture.
Meeting my expectations, he indulges. “Just in case of what?”
But how should I respond? Is it better to be honest? Or should I play it safe—appeal to his ego? I take a deep and calculated breath.
“…You know I wouldn’t leave without Savvy,” I murmur.
He shifts his weight, and the sheen of his pants catches the budding light. I lift my gaze to his face where he’s wearing an expression I can’t even begin to comprehend.
“Mm, but you were considering it.”
He has me. He’s pinning me down and forcing me to admit my betrayal. What else is there to do except admit it? There’s no way up… unless I bring him down with me.
“Just as you’ve considered doing unforgivable things to me.” As I utter the accusation, a thread of fear rips through me, causing my palms to grow slick with sweat. He frowns, but luckily, that’s all he does. Perhaps this ground I constantly try to equal out between us is something more tolerable and welcome than what I thought.
“It’s a purging, which is something I think vampires can also understand,” I explain as I turn my head back to the breaking dawn. I feel him watching me as a wisp of my hair glints crimson in front of my eyes. I quickly replace it behind my ear. “I need these moments every now and then… I need to feel unchained.”
The weight of his luminous gaze sends aches across my skin. It bores into every inch, forcing chills down my arms and neck. But these chills are not out of fear…they are of a different, more novel sort.
“I understand,” he finally replies in the gentlest voice I’ve heard yet.
I try to analyze his features, but they are lost in a self-reflection all their own; maybe in a similar sort of purging. Strangely, in this moment it feels as if we are sharing the same headspace, as if we are on the same plane of existence.
What is it that he’s yearning for? I wonder as we both soundlessly look out over the rich, Sabbanthian landscape.
“I will leave you to yourself then,” he says, “However…”
He drags his knuckles along my jaw, down to my neck. Everything within me seizes, releasing heat to the surface of my skin. His fingers glance the edges of my collar bone, trailing beneath the cut of my robes, and hooking lightly around the Laisse at my chest. My lungs constrict as his delicate touch along the curves of my ribs carries with it something far heavier; warmer, even.
He lifts the inscribed emblem of Cain out from beneath my clothes, letting the silvery piece of steel dangle and glisten in the yellowing horizon.
“Use it wisely,” he warns, stepping out from the growing light of morning and into the shadows. As he leaves, I contemplate my state of being: the heat surging across my body. When the wooden door in the far corner eventually closes, I am convinced that I am alone again.
But really, was I ever alone to begin with?
✽✽✽
Today, I run. I run with fervor and passion, with thoughts and feelings that swell within, as if I’m giving birth to a new me. Today, I don’t feel like running away. I just feel like running.
For a long-distance runner like me, the rec area is small. In the past I would limit myself to three kilometers around the circular trails anyway, to recover from the frequent summonings. But lately, I’ve been able to go as far as I want. Zein doesn’t summon me anymore, and ever since that awkward run-in on the second floor, I refuse to go to him. I clutch and readjust the Laisse chain that’s tucked into the neck of my athletic suit.
It has been nearly two months since then, and I’ve kept the secret of the Laisse well enough, not even using it to slack off in the work room. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be a secret—I’m supposed to wear it proudly, after all… but I knew it would only cause me more problems with Anaya and the others. The seraglio detests me enough already, and I hate to admit that it wears me down. Plus, it’s a good deterrent to keep my feelings for Zein in line.
There have been many times that I’ve ached to see him after that night, but I pushed the pettiness aside out of sheer discipline. Going to Zein of my own free will is like becoming successfully brainwashed by Saya—a waste of everything I ever did to try and escape in the past. All my research, all my training, all my pooling hatred and strength—gone. If I go to him of my own accord, I’m choosing to forget everything I ever stood for, and toy with the things I swore to never touch. And the cynical side of me believes he’s trying to make me do that.
But he was so sincere. He looks out for me as well as his other supply units.
I shake my head.
But there was a connection, he understands you.
And as my face grows even hotter from forces other than exercise, I push the thoughts from my mind. Remember. He’s a vampire. A monster. Violent, malicious, and cares only for his own needs.
But, that’s not true.
He saved me from certain death.
He takes in every supply unit he sponsors for their sake.
And… he gave me this chain of freedom, before relieving me of my service.
I growl at myself and resort to focusing on nothing but the trail. My hips rotate atop the hill that leads down to the ravine, above the pond. Small, camouflaged frogs chirp at me as I pass, resting on trunks, dapples of sunlight hitting them between bright, yellowing leaves. Rounding a big oak tree while clipping the edge of the dirt path, my makeshift marker of stones comes into view and my feet slow to a gradual stop. About ten kilometers, I think. Not too bad.
I sit at the edge of the large, smooth oak tree to the left of the center pond. Wedged in between its curving roots is a wooden knife. Its handle is wrapped in a small leather cord with a piece of scrap metal hanging off the middle—what was previously my anklet. After my very first run at Zein’s castle
, I had hidden it, hoping to use the pointed, solar panel fragment to carve out a weapon—or weapons—of sorts. So, I did. It’s nearly complete, with a few more polishing touches. Not that it would do any good against a vampire, anyway. Their skin is so tough that only diamonds and vampire keratin can cut through. But having it gives me some sort of solace, and I guess that’s all that matters.
The world around me is quiet, save the chirping frogs and light breeze. No supply units or vampire soldiers loom in the shadows or along the trail. I unravel the leather cord and finish up the knife, now at a loss for when I will need to use it.
But I keep scraping and scraping to sharpen the fine edge, because it’s the only thing making me feel like I’m still trying to get out of here.
✽✽✽
“Hello Wavorly.” Seriesa greets me happily from behind the counter.
“Good evening, Madam Seriesa,” I reply with a half-smile as usual.
Since the first night when the vampire attendant asked me about the mishap at the distribution, she’s been extra nice to me—like giving me more food than rationed or insisting that I call her by her given name or standing up for me against the other attendants. I have grown accustomed to her smiling face.
“Did you have a good run?”
“Yes, it was needed,” I say. “Can I get a full portion please? More fruit or bread again if you can spare.”
“Yes, of course,” she chuckles, slinking away to the back of the kitchen. “After all, the official favorite of our lord must always keep up her strength.” My heart threatens to stop. Her voice is loud… louder than usual. “It is my understanding that the Laisse has been gifted to you. Congratulations!”
I throw my gaze down in sudden panic. Daring a glance back at the dining tables, most of the supply units are mid-bite, pausing to eye me with wide orbs of incredulity—utter disbelief. One of the first ones in my sights is Anaya. And if looks could kill…