“Apuleius.”
“Yes.”
“You speak in riddles.”
“Only because language fails me.”
Are you saying you’re healed of your malady?” she asked, fearing his answer.
“There’s no cure for vampyrism except death. But for coldheartedness, I think there is a cure.” He turned her in his arms and looked at her gravely. “The warmth of a pure heart, for example. And the stunning pain of loss.”
He stopped, his arms wrapped around her waist.
“My human memories are indistinct for the most part. We all have the same complaint. Memories are stored in the brain. When our biology changed, our brains changed as well. It affected our ability to access those memories.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I’m trying to share a secret.”
Raven stilled. She felt his worry, his uncertainty.
She placed her hand over his.
Tentatively, he laced his fingers with her own.
“Everyone, including Aoibhe, thinks I’m English, but that isn’t true. I’m not Anglo-Saxon; I’m Norman. My name is William Malet. I was named after an ancestor of mine who was one of William the Conqueror’s companions in the Battle of Hastings. My family lived in York in the thirteenth century and that’s where I was born. My first language was Anglo-Norman French. I was the oldest son of a noble family and destined for a certain life, but I fell in love with a merchant’s daughter. Alicia.”
He gazed out over the city, a haunted look in his eyes.
Raven squeezed their connection, prompting him.
He looked down at their fingers.
“Because of the difference in our stations, and the fact that she was Anglo-Saxon, my family opposed the match. But we were young and in love. We thought the differences between us were meaningless.
“We decided to flout my father and elope. Alicia was supposed to meet me in York one night so we could run away together. She never appeared. I went looking for her, and after searching for hours I found her, lying by the wall.” He cursed. “She was alive, but barely. A group of men had happened upon her while she was on her way to meet me. They took their pleasure and broke her body. She died in my arms.”
“I’m so sorry.” She held his hand firmly.
William’s expression was tortured.
“She’d been a virgin, secretly betrothed to me. The way she suffered and died . . .” William’s voice trailed off into a curse. “I should have met her at her father’s house and not compelled her to wander the streets alone. Or I should have let her go and she could have married someone else.”
“You loved her,” Raven said quietly. “And, from what you’ve said, she loved you, too. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
“She died nonetheless.” William struggled to continue. “I tried to avenge her death but couldn’t discover who had done it. In the interim, my father arranged to have me marry a girl from another Norman family. It was a political and economic alliance, as most marriages were in those days.
“I had no wish to marry anyone, let alone a spoiled aristocrat I’d never met. Angry and in despair, I fled my father and went to Oxford. I was there only a short time when the Dominicans took me in. I began my studies at Oxford and later went to Paris.”
“Was she beautiful?”
William squeezed Raven’s hand. “Very. She had red-gold hair. I’ve never quite seen its likeness. And she was kind and very sweet. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her.”
He cleared his throat. “When Alicia died, I knew my ability to love died with her. I became a novice with the Dominicans, taking a vow of chastity. My intention was to become a priest.”
His eyes lifted to Raven’s, a strange fire in them.
“When I saw you that night, pressed against a wall, those animals eating you, you reminded me of her—this beautiful, gentle girl. You were going to die because you’d been walking a dark street alone. I couldn’t let that happen.
“Aoibhe and some of the others found us. Your blood smells sweet and they wanted it. By then, I knew I wasn’t going to feed from you. I told them you were mine and took you away.”
“William,” she whispered, “thank you for having mercy on me.”
He stiffened. “I don’t think mercy is in my vocabulary.”
“But you acted mercifully. You honored her memory by saving my life.”
“I may have saved your life, Cassita, but I lost you just the same.”
The despair in his voice both wounded and irritated her.
She disentangled her hand from his. “You only lost me because you don’t love me.”
“You are mistaken.” He pulled her against him, his expression earnest. “This past month I’ve been waiting, thinking what I felt for you would recede. If my ability to love died with Alicia, or if it ended when I became a vampyre, I should have been able to forget you.
“I couldn’t. Every morning and every evening, my thoughts fixed on you—on your face, your smile, your very being. I found myself wondering what you were doing, if you were safe, if you were jumping between someone and his attacker.”
He took her hand and kissed it, running his thumb across her life line.
“Your name suits you, you know. Raven—the beautiful, fearless black bird. I’ve been in mourning for centuries but nothing has distressed me as much as losing you.”
“You aren’t the only one who was hurt.” She tried to swallow back the rising emotion.
“Forgive me.” He cupped her cheek. “I came to you tonight because I couldn’t allow the light of my life to be extinguished without seeing you one last time.”
“Then tell me,” she whispered.
His expression faltered. “I lack the words, in any language.”
“Just say it.” She reached up on tiptoe and placed her hand against his face. “Say what you feel, William. Be brave.”
His fingers closed over her wrist, holding her hand to him.
“When I spoke to you about hope the night I took you to the Consilium, my hope was that you could see beyond the callous contract I was foolishly trying to make. That you would stay with me and be mine because you wanted me as desperately as I wanted you.”
She gazed up at him sadly. “We’re from two different worlds.”
“Maybe we can create a new one.”
“Only at great risk to you and your city.”
He inhaled deeply, his eyes fixed on hers.
“What are a thousand cities to me if I am without you?”
Raven searched his eyes, which were dark and desperate. She felt his fingers nervously tighten around her wrist.
“Are you certain?” she asked, returning his stare.
“If I lose you, I lose everything. You are the only goodness in my world.”
“You’ve been alone a long time. You suffered a great loss. I’m sorry for that,” she said softly. “I can understand your reticence to tell secrets. But love isn’t secretive or one-sided.”
“It isn’t,” he said fiercely.
“Then tell me.”
He kissed her forehead. “Je t’aim.”
Raven savored the moment, letting the old words burn into her consciousness.
She took in his expression, his eyes, his posture. He was clearly earnest and unsure how he would be received.
She answered him by bringing their lips together.
He kissed her intently but reverently, his mouth desperately seeking their connection.
At length they parted, and he brought their foreheads together.
“I didn’t know what darkness was until I lost you.”
“You found me again. I love you, too.”
He kissed her, this time more passionately, his hands moving to press against her backside. Then, with a devilish smile, he tucked her under his arm.
“Hold tight,” he ordered.
She clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck. “Where are we going?”
“To celebrate by loving one another with our bodies.” He squeezed her waist.
She peered down at their perch. “Not here.”
He laughed. “Certainly not. Not even I am bold enough to join with you on holy ground.” He moved to whisper in her ear. “There is another venue I think will please you.”
He tightened his hold on her and they leapt from the dome, to a lower half dome, before descending the great stone structure.