A chill ran down his spine as he recalled the night in Hannah’s tavern when Aria had revealed Atticus’s journals to him. Had it really only been days ago? He could never forget Aria’s words to him, or the lifelessness within her when she’d spoken… “So if he is taken from me, I need you to understand why I may have to be destroyed too. To really understand, William, and not just say you do.”
He’d wanted to blow her off at the time, to convince her nothing would happen to Braith, but he’d been unable to. Aria expected him to be able to destroy her if it became necessary. He would do it before he ever allowed her to become as malevolent and warped as Atticus had become, but he would also do everything he could to save her before he ever considered the possibility of ending her life.
The trickling sound of water drew him to the spot in the caves where water from a stream above flowed down the rocks. He placed the torch beside the ice flow forming on the floor and over the wall of the cave before grabbing the pitcher sitting on a rock shelf beside the water. He filled it and made his way back to the main cavern.
Entering the cave, he found Aria sitting on one of the rocks, her head bowed and her shoulders hunched up around her ears. Over the years, he’d seen his sister boney from lack of food, withdrawn after being separated from Braith, and devastated by the loss of their father, but he’d never seen her look so small or broken before. Her torment made him feel more helpless than he’d ever felt in his life.
Tempest lifted her head from where she sat beside Aria, her hand resting on Aria’s shoulder. It surprised him that Aria allowed Tempest to touch her right now, but he had a feeling she had little real acknowledgement of the world surrounding her anymore.
He walked across the room toward them and Tempest turned to pull a rag from a pile sitting beside the rock. “I’ll take care of her,” she said and took the pitcher from William’s hands. “Can we build a fire in here or will the smell of it travel?”
“It will travel,” he replied and walked away to inspect the gates they’d closed off upon entering. They’d lost their pursuers in the forest, but he couldn’t let his guard down even a little right now.
“I can do it,” Aria said to Tempest.
“Let me help,” Tempest said, and though he’d expected her to protest, Aria didn’t speak. “I couldn’t gather all of the clothing, can you do it, William?” Tempest asked him.
He nodded and turned to leave. He froze when he heard the crunch of a footstep from within one of the tunnels. Aria was up and beside him in an instant, her bow raised and an arrow nocked as she took aim at whoever hid within the shadows beyond the closed gate.
“Who’s there?” Aria demanded.
Silence met her question.
***
Melinda
“I’m sorry milady,” one of the king’s guard apologized and hastily lowered his bow.
Melinda’s shoulders slumped in relief, but Ashby continued to scowl at all of the men and women who had pointed their weapons at them. Behind the king’s guard, the residents of Chippman and the refugee survivors of Badwin were huddled close together. Their eyes were filled with alarm as they surveyed her and Ashby.
“Where is the king?” one of the king’s men inquired.
“We were ambushed by the same group of people who devastated Badwin.” Cries of alarm met her statement, and frightened murmurs raced through the crowd. “My brothers are working to try to keep everyone protected.” Not entirely a lie. “We’ve been sent back to see you safely onto the palace, but we must move quickly.”
“Is Hannah okay?” An older-looking vampire shoved his way to the front of the crowd to demand. Melinda recognized him as Hannah’s uncle Abe.
Many of the residents of Chippman had some kind of genetic defect. Abe hadn’t stopped aging until he was sixty-two. He was spry and healthy, and wouldn’t age another day, but he looked older than most of the vampires surrounding him. Beside him stood his son, Lucas, and Hannah’s best friend, Ellen. Their faces were filled with worry as they stared anxiously at her. Tempest’s best friend, Pallas, and a few of the children she’d fled Badwin with also pushed their way to the front to stare at her.
“Hannah is fine. Everyone is fine,” she assured them, or at least most of them had been fine the last time Melinda had seen them. “Now, we have to go.”
They would be able to move faster now that the sun was down and the vampires from Chippman who were unable to stand its rays, like Lucas, could travel without the hindrance of the covered carriages built for them.
“Leave the carriages behind,” Ashby said when some of the vampires started to ready the horses for them. “We will be returning to the palace tonight.”
“What if we don’t?” one of the vampires demanded anxiously.
Ashby’s gaze didn’t waver as he met and held the man’s. “We have no choice but to reach it tonight.”
Uneasy murmurs went through the crowd. “Then we will reach it tonight,” Lucas declared. “Easy enough if we move out now. Let’s go everyone.”