And there is nothing that affects me more powerfully than her.
She edges closer, resting her hand on my arm. Her touch grounds me, as if she’s anchoring me to the earth itself. I wouldn’t mind if she could draw forth the branch-tendrils like she did before and tie me to the damn ground.
I can’t believe that in such a short span of time, I’ve become so dependent on her.
Her presence beside me gives me the courage to retrieve the crisply folded piece of paper inside the envelope. Even this is imbued with my mother’s scent. It floods my senses, threatening to drag me to a dark place.
I unfold the paper.
It’s filled with handwritten script. Her script, I instinctively realize, even though I don’t remember exactly what it looks like.
It’s a letter.
Dearest Corvan. My most precious son. If you’re reading this, then your father will have decided that it’s time for you to know the truth.
It’s for me. As I read her words, they echo in my mind with the sound of her voice—as if she’s speaking to me.
If you’re reading this, I will be long departed. If anything, the fact that you have this letter in your hands means that he’s retained the tiniest shred of decency.
I only want you to know the truth. You’re old enough now.
My sweet, beautiful boy. I never wanted to leave you. If I had my choice, I would raise you. I would keep you safe until I knew you were strong enough to protect yourself against the cruel world. I would give you everything.
But he’s ruined me.
He did the one thing that’s forbidden to us Vampyr.
Without my knowledge, he fed me the essence of a pureblooded Dryad.
There’s a reason the Vampyr and the Dryad are forbidden from meeting. The Dryad have made their home across the seas in the jungles of Batava, well away from the Vampyr lands. Our people are high in the mountains, in a place that’s inaccessible to humankind.
That’s what you are, my sweet child. A half-Vampyr. Dhampir. You are very rare and very special, for unlike me, you can tolerate some of the effects of the sun.
I should have known. Only something as powerful as a Dryad’s blood would have made me immune to sunlight for those short periods of time. But Valdon didn’t know that her blood would also drive me mad. Her magic is too powerful, and I am not her Mate. He has forced an unholy bond, and the essence of a True Daughter of Eresus has transformed me.
This Thirst of mine has become unrelenting. The Blood Haze is impossible to control. Her blood is so sweet that I crave it constantly, and when I cannot have it, I start to have withdrawals, and those times are the most dangerous, because I will take anything and anyone that’s in front of me.
I don’t want to hurt the servants and the maids.
And I will not take any more from the Dryad. The way I am now, I cannot afford to become powerful again, and I’m horrified that she’s been imprisoned and forced to sustain me.
Valdon—I would most certainly hurt him, but I don’t want to hurt you, my child. Never you. Yesterday, I came so close—and it tore me to pieces.
In our lore, there’s a rule. One must never, ever take blood from a Dryad unless one intends to form a Mate Bond.
Otherwise, the Life Magic will have no release, and like with all things, imbalance corrupts and erodes.
Heed my words, my son, for one day, you will need this knowledge. Dryads are infinitely potent. Death consumes life. Their blood is a thousand times more addictive than that of a human. That’s why, when in the presence of one, it is so very easy for a Vampyr to lose control.
My child, I am ruined. My mind is gone. I know only thirst, and I do not want to hurt you. I don’t want you to know me as a monster. That is why, when I walk out those doors at first light, I will allow your father’s guards to impale me, and then the sun will take me.
I wish I could have done more for you, but even your very existence is a miracle in itself. Just know that I love you with all my heart.
Your father—as much as I revile him now—loves you too, and he will do everything in his power to make sure you grow into a strong and formidable man. He promised me this, and I believe him. By the time you’ve died and returned in your Vampyr form, you will be wise and powerful enough to temper your urges and use your gifts for good.
For a Vampyr amongst mortals is akin to a God. You must never, ever abuse the power you’ve been given.
My time here might be coming to an end, but I have no regrets. I plead with you not to feel sorrow for my passing, but joy, that I, a mere Vampyr from the cold, distant Heart of Ice, have had the chance to walk with you in the sunshine. I’ve brought you into this world, and that is my greatest blessing.
And although I have no desire to see your father’s face anymore, know that you were truly conceived out of love.
My sweet, beloved son.
You will be a good man. Use your gifts for good, Corvan Taelinor, and defy the archaic laws that have kept our peoples in constraints for so long. Protect your own. Nurture them.
And know that you are cherished.
I love you with all my heart,
Mama
54
FINLEY
We stand there in the garden; in the silence, with the koi gliding through the glassy water at our feet and the moonlight streaming down upon us.
The moonlight catches Corvan’s pale hair, making it appear as if he’s surrounded by a halo.
He meets my gaze.
His eyes are the color of deep, dark wine.
I didn’t read the letter with him—that was for his eyes only—but I can see that it’s invoked deep pain within him.
A lone tear slips down his cheek. “This life… sometimes I don’t understand it at all. But at the same time, it all makes perfect sense now.”
He leans in and kisses me gently. I taste his blood-tears; his sorrow and his pain.
And I kiss him back, letting him know that I’m here, and I know. “You’re here, aren’t you? And there’s a reason you’ve become so powerful. They both wanted you to become strong. For different reasons, maybe, but you are strong now, Corvan. It’s up to you to choose which path you’ll take. I know you’ll choose the right one. I know you. And I’ll stand beside you.”
He kisses me again, caressing my cheek, his touch reverent. “You have,” he says gently. “Oh, you have. More than I deserve.”
“No,” I counter. “We deserve each other. I’m fairly certain of that.”