And each moment of my life happened a heartbeat at a time then, my mind and soul in blurry sleep. My eyes opened and I looked down at my shoes—suddenly black, to match my dress. Another flicker and twelve open graves stared up at me.
I blinked, closing my eyes that little bit longer in the hopes that I’d open them again and be standing somewhere far away. But when the sound came rushing back, the words of a priest stole the hum of the day as he blessed each tiny coffin. The entire vampiric and Lilithian community circled the burial, dressed in black, huddled closely, so numb their tears had dried up, leaving their eyes red and puffy. And I saw it in the faces of the lucky children that were adopted—living in the village with their new families—they weren’t thinking about the tragedy. They were thinking, “That could have been me.” But none looked so haunted as the face of the king. I couldn't bear to look at him—couldn't bear to see the complete loss of hope in his eyes. The hope of saving those children was all that had driven him these past few months, and with the sudden and tragic slaughter of so many, I knew he was searching now for
any
reason to live.
I looked up from the twelve small coffins as hundreds of coloured balloons burst into the sky, each one a wish we’d had for the life that child might have led. Each red balloon for the love they might have found one day. Each blue for the skies they saw away from that prison. Each yellow for the sunshine they could’ve brought to a mom and dad’s lives. The white for the wings they’d wear in Heaven.
Nothing would ever numb the tragedy of their loss, and nothing would ever weaken the pain. I knew that. I knew that the twelve white headstones, lined up along the hill overlooking the ocean, would stare back at me every time I walked this field, and remind me that sometimes bad things happen for no reason at all. Sometimes nothing makes sense, and sometimes, innocent people die. That was all I could take from this. There was no great life lesson to be learned. There was no epiphany to be had. Twelve dead. Twelve without a chance. Twelve whose lives had finally just begun after so, so many years of torture. Where was the justice in that? There was none.
David and I stood across from each other, watching the balloons in the sky until the last one floated out of sight. Everyone else left as the sun went down, but neither he nor I could bear to leave those children there alone—not until the time felt right.
“We don’t deserve to be parents,” he said out of the blue, his empty eyes fixed on my belly.
I slowly looked down from the darkening sky, blinded by small white dots against the blackness of twilight. “You shouldn’t speak like that.”
“Why? What right do we have to be happy, when those children were left to die alone?”
“They weren't alone, David,” I said. “Katy was there, she—”
“And now she’s dead, too.”
“As are six guards, but—”
“But they shouldn't be dead.”
“No,” I said, gently touching my belly. “But that doesn't mean we don’t deserve to be happy.”
He cupped his hands at his front, frowning down at the turned soil atop the coffins. “We failed them.”
“We helped them, David. They were free. Happy.” I exhaled, knowing damn well this was a pointless conversation. “Falcon said none of them would've even known what hit them. They died in their sleep…”
“Yes, but they
died
.”
I turned fully so my body faced his, and wandered over, slipping my arms along his ribs and pressing my face to his shirt. “The enemy is not life here, David. It’s not Fate. It’s not us. It’s Drake. And he needs to be held accountable for what he did.”
His hands stayed balled between us for a long time until, after a deep breath, he finally cupped the back of my neck, holding me closer. “He does. But more importantly, we need to make an example of him.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “For the memory of those children, and for the sake of many more, Drake
has
to die.”
“Then it shall be my life’s mission,” he said. “Until his death, or mine.”
I rolled my head back and looked up at him, but his eyes were cold and his thoughts somewhere far away. He was lost—so distant I wasn’t sure he’d ever return. “It’s getting late.”
“It is.”
“You coming inside?” I asked.
“I’ll be along soon,” he said, but we both knew that was a lie.
I stepped back from him then, and walked away, leaving him there alone beside the twelve graves of the children we thought we’d saved.
By the time I visited the graves a week later, Lilith had blessed them with Nature’s magic, burying the newness of this tragedy with signs of life. It gave me hope to see the dirt covered in fresh green grass—hope that maybe things could one day return to normal. A changed normal, but normal all the same. My heart would forever be buried deep down in the soil with those little fingers and little toes, but at some point in this long, immortal life, I would have to stand up and move on.
I laid a fresh carnation and a gentle kiss against each of the headstones, stopping under the big tree at the end to just ‘be’ for a while. Since all of this chaos and madness, I hadn’t returned to the Enchanted Forest—hadn’t walked with Nature. Hadn’t felt the energy of Life within my soul. But today, for the first time, I took a breath—tasted the chill in the breeze, saw the grey in the sky, felt the grass between my toes. I finally figured out the very thing David also needed to realise: we weren’t betraying the children by feeling things other than grief and guilt. None of this was our fault, even if it felt that way sometimes. I just wished I could make David understand that too.
A small blue bird chirped in the branches above me. I smiled up at her as I sat down and took another breath of the world I’d forgotten. “Thank you, Lilith,” I said. “For the grass.”
The blue bird landed swiftly and gracefully on the last headstone.
You’re welcome, Auress. What happened here was not only tragic, but a great injustice. And if there is anything I can do to help bring Drake down for his crimes, I will let you know
, she thought, then flapped away again, disappearing into the grey sky.
“Apparently your uncle had the gall to send a messenger,” an angry voice said out of nowhere. “He wants to know when the fake peace agreement is to be signed.”
I looked up into the pale white glare of the sun at the stone face of my husband, charging toward me like a man on a mission. “Who received the messenger?”
“Walt.” He sat down cross-legged on the grass, his back to the tree. “I’d have shot the bastard.”
“No you wouldn’t.” I laughed lightly, spinning on my butt to face him. “What did Walt tell the messenger?”
“That things would proceed as planned.”
“And they will,” I said. “We need to let Drake think he’s evened the score. If we distance ourselves with hatred, we’ll never get close enough to kill him.”
David nodded once, then tossed a strand of grass out of his fingertips, twisted himself at an angle away from the tree, and flopped onto his back, his arms spread wide.
“So…” I asked, tucking my dress between my legs so he couldn't see my undies. “What brings you down here?”
“Was looking for you,” he said absently, his eyes on the bare branches above him.
“Any reason?”
He turned his head and looked at me for about two whole seconds, then looked away. “Do I need one?”
“No.” But it seemed odd for him to willingly come be with me unless there was one. I sat in the dead silence of awkward tension for a while, not sure if I should talk, or maybe lie down, or perhaps get up and walk away. And I was just about to enter into some small talk when David did it for me.
“It’s getting cold now,” he said.
I wondered how
he
would know. He didn’t really feel the cold. And I thought about pulling him up on it, but chose not to in the end. “Yeah. It is.”
“Winter will set in soon—cover the ground with snow.”
“That’ll be nice.” I imagined the manor grounds completely white with snow—all the blood and pain blotted out with a neutral colour. Nature’s correction fluid. Perhaps a way of temporarily forgetting. “I love the snow.”
David didn’t say anything. I watched his chest rise and fall for a while, happy just to be in his presence, even if the tension between us was so thick I could cut the air with a steely gaze. And it wasn’t just emanating off me. He was tense too—like he didn't really know what to say to me.
“I feel the need to apologise.” His deep voice sounded so calm and soothing when he spoke that way—spoke softly.
“For what?”
“For Zane—for what he did to you. For not being there to cut his dick off.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry. Just knowing you would have, if given the chance, is enough for me.”
He rolled onto his side and propped his head up with the ball of his palm, brushing the dead autumn leaves into a pile with the other.
I waited a long time, holding my question tight on the tip of my tongue, weighing up the pros and cons of asking before I said, “David?”
“Hm?”
“Do you still love me?”
He sighed heavily, but didn’t look at me. “Why do you ask?”
“We haven’t really had a chance to, you know, talk. Not since…” I left it hanging. He knew what I meant. I had so much to talk to him about—so many other things I wanted to say, but since the death of the children, there never seemed to be a good time. “And I’m just not sure if you still want what you wanted at the ball that night.”
David didn’t say anything. Maybe because he had nothing to say—or perhaps because he just wasn’t so sure anymore.
Inside me, the baby danced her midday jig, pushing her little limbs against my hands as I pushed back.
“Why do you look so happy?” David asked, curiously frowning at my smile.
I shuffled over and took his hand, laying it flat to my stomach. He waited, holding his breath, and when a small bump moved his hand, his eyes lit up and he grinned widely.
“She’s so strong,” he said.
“She is.” I nodded.
“Like her mother,” he added, holding my gaze when I looked at him. He sat up then and repositioned himself so he could touch my belly with both hands. “For what it’s worth, Ara, nothing has changed for me—when it comes to you two.”
“You’d tell me, though—if it had?” I whispered, laying my hands over his.
He leaned down and kissed my belly, so softly and so sweetly I had to hold my breath so I wouldn't cry. “I just need some time to get past … everything. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said quietly, and we sat there in the last of the sun before winter, existing in a world of peace that would pass by so quickly we’d wonder if it was ever real.
***
Too many chairs sat vacant down the dinner table this week. Two Lower House members had been killed along with Ryder and Morgana, Mike was gone, Jason had moved on, and Nate had been eating with Pepper in her room most nights.
The battle and the many deaths that followed it had changed everyone—changed the look in their eye, the conversations at dinner, the energy. While most of the knights enjoyed the chance to stretch their limbs in a good old-fashioned sword fight, the death of the children after it had soured the experience. No one talked about it. No one mentioned it. No one really even ate.
All I wanted was to crawl upstairs and go to bed. I pushed my food around on my plate, biting my bottom lip so it wouldn’t tremble, counting the seconds until the night could politely come to an end. But even then, when I reached my bed and rolled under the covers, David would be there—to sleep beside me without touching me, without talking to me, without acknowledging that I exist. And I would cry by myself, desperate for
any
kind of affection from him—anything to say that everything would be okay. And then morning would come just as I’d close my eyes, and David would roll back the covers, stretch, and leave the room, closing the door. I wouldn't see him again until dinner time. So, really, I wasn’t sure why I was in such a hurry to go to bed.
There was one positive light at the end of the table tonight, though: Arthur. I wasn’t sure what time he arrived home, but it was just really nice to see a friendly face. I know he never intended to stay so long in the city with Jason, and I was sure he remained there to keep him from running back here after everything that happened. Arthur was smart enough to know that the last thing I needed, while my husband was ignoring me, was
Jason’s
shoulder to cry on.
He smiled down at me and, when I offered a pathetic attempt of a smile back, he rose from his seat, walked the length of the room and came to sit where Jason once did.
He laid his hand over mine. “How are you, my dear?”
“Sad.”
“I can see that.” His blue eyes took me in like a faithful old dog would its lifelong friend. “Jason said to send his love.”
I nodded. “How’s he settling in?”
“Good.” He sat back in the chair. “The apartment is … well, amazing, for lack of a better word. I think he’ll be just fine.”
“Good.” I smiled, imagining him there in his new life. “I’m glad you persuaded him not to come back with you.”
The corners of Arthur’s lips moved up and down a few times as he held back a grin. “Persuaded. Ordered. Same thing.”
I laughed lightly. “Well, he’d have been no use to us here. He’s better off out there—living.”
Arthur’s eyes moved to Mike’s old seat. “And I heard we lost one of our own.”
A tight feeling closed my lungs. “Yes.”
“Have you heard from him yet?”
“Not yet. But I’m sure he’ll write when he gets settled.”
“I’m sure he will.” He patted my hand.
The staff walked in through the doors near the fireplace then, and I watched their white-gloved hands moving skilfully around each seat, clearing plates as though they were invisible. I liked that—the formalities of life. Sometimes they were the only thing you could really rely on. And if David had told me when I first came here that one day I’d be grateful for all our stone-set customs, I’d never have believed him.
Arthur, suddenly standing, gently touched my shoulder to get my attention. “I must bid you good night, my Queen.” He bowed once. “It was a long drive today, and I’m well and truly ready to turn in.”
“Okay, Arthur.” I offered him a weak smile. “Good night.”
“Come see me—if you can’t sleep.” He leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “I have a few potions that might help.”
“Safe for the baby?” I asked, patting Bump.
“Of course.” He nodded. “Safe to slip into someone’s drink, too.” The nod moved suggestively toward the king.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He bowed again and walked away, stopping to whisper in David’s ear as he passed. David nodded, closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them again, looked right at me. I tried to search his mind, but it was either empty or just very well guarded. So I let him into mine—opened it up completely. And when he caught the first rush of memories from
that
night, he looked away—disconnecting again.
***
David slipped into bed at midnight, barely lifting the covers or creasing the pillows. I breathed as if I were asleep, hoping to hide the line of tears streaming down my temples and onto my hand. He clearly fell for it, getting into bed without a word. I heard him take off his watch and lay it on the nightstand, felt the bed shake a little as he repositioned the pillows, smelled the sweet orange scent of freshly-consumed blood on his breath as he exhaled deeply into the air above us.
“We need to get those glass domes reconstructed,” he said, as if he knew all along that I was awake.
“Why?” I whispered in a very quiet voice so he wouldn't catch the quiver in it.
The bed rocked again and the blankets shifted, David’s face appearing above my shoulder a second later. “You’re crying,” he said.
I wiped my face dry. “I’m not.”
“You are.” He reached over and grabbed the shoulder I was laying on, using it to roll me onto my back. “Ara, what’s wrong, my love.”
And that was it. Those two little words brought it all crashing down. I covered my face as it crumpled into an ugly fold, my whole body shaking with the sobs. He laid on top of me as much as he could with Bump in the way, and the warmth of him sunk into the iciness in me, melting away my reasons for crying.
“Please talk to me,” he whispered into my hair, smoothing it off my brow.
“I miss you,” I cried, my mouth wet with hot breath and tears. “I just miss you.”
“And that’s all?” he asked delicately, leaning back to look down into my face.
I nodded, licking a salty wet line off my lip.
His round eyes shrunk with a growing smile and his whole face softened. “I’m still here, sweetheart.”
“You’re not.” I sobbed again, wiping my nose with the back of my finger. “You ignore me all the time, you—”
“I’m not ignoring you, Ara.” He laid back down and looked at the roof. “I’m grieving.”
“So am I.”
He just sighed, and I waited for him to reassure me that I meant something to him, sobbing quietly to myself, but when I braved a glance in his direction he was sleeping soundly, his ribs rising and falling with soft, peaceful breath.
“David?” I said, even poked him a little, but he was out cold.
On the nightstand, a small bottle from Arthur’s glass cabinet caught the light, glinting slightly. The same kind of small bottle he gave me before I came to bed. But I didn't drink from it. I didn't want to sleep. I just wanted David to hold me again—make it all okay.