Rayhan watched Ella until she turned down a hallway and disappeared. He sighed and looked at me with fresh eyes.
“You weren’t in your cell when I came to get you.” Rayhan shifted his grip on my upper arm to trail his fingers to my hand. “I was...worried.” His lips had formed a different word first, but he settled on the other.
“Ella offered me a bath and food. The best you’ve offered is dragging me to the morgue and thinly veiled threats against my family.”
Rayhan turned, but my palm remained wrapped in his. “Well, I have something else for you.”
“This is still about finding your father’s killer, right?”
“What else would it be, girl?”
Ella’s words about men wanting one thing from a woman swirled in my head.
“Nothing,” I said and followed the giant down another staircase.
I wished my feet would turn to lead. When we got to our destination, Rayhan would expect me to use my magic and I would face his wrath when nothing happened, again. I chewed the inside of my lip. My freedom depended on him trusting I could solve Manveer’s murder. I’d have to devise a way to trick him into believing I controlled my power.
Rayhan paused before an arched entryway.
“This is awkward,” he said.
“What?” I peeked around the corner.
“Bria lives on the castle grounds.”
“So?”
Rayhan rolled his eyes. “I can’t show you the exit.”
“I mean, you could. I’d appreciate that.”
Rayhan shook his head, sending those reddened locks into a cascade. He scanned the room, and his gaze landed on a navy-blue throw pillow.
“Here.” Rayhan ripped apart the seams until a wide square remained. He folded the fabric into three sections, creating a long, slim satin band.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s a blindfold. See?” He wrapped the cloth around his head, but the back edges barely met. “It’ll fit you better.”
I squinted at the material. On the one hand, I’d rather return to my cell than be willingly blinded and led by my mortal enemy into who knows where. On the other, the quicker I found Manveer’s murder, the sooner I would be home and able to take care of my father.
“Fine.” I turned around. “But if I open my eyes to the morgue, I will find a way to kill you.”
The fabric carried a chill as Rayhan settled it over my face. His warm fingers batted the cold away and sent out trails of heat as they fluttered across my hair. His hands moved carefully, precisely, and he knotted the edges without trapping a single strand. Rayhan hesitated when the band was secure, as though he didn’t want to pull away. The scent of evergreen and an herbal spice washed over me, stronger and more intoxicating than the lavender in the bath.
Rayhan grabbed my fingers and pulled me forward. “This way, girl.” Something husky roughened his voice.
Rayhan had slept only steps apart from me last night, had crept into my room to drape a blanket over me, but his hand in mine as he guided me through the castle instilled more intimacy. There was a promise between us, a guarded covenant, but neither one of us knew what it said. We lingered somewhere between a prisoner and a jailer, two people in the throes of loss, and a man and a woman.
“Watch your step here. There’s a bit of a staircase.” Rayhan pulled me down each step, and my hands perspired, but not from the rich rays of sunshine that suddenly warmed my skin.
“How much farther?” I asked, but I didn’t know if I hoped for a longer or shorter timeframe.
“We’re almost there,” he said.
The sun faded, and the lingering edges of brightness dimmed. Rayhan released my hand and set both palms on my shoulders, grounding me with his weight.
He rolled the blindfold down, and his touch quivered. His face spanned a breath’s width from mine, his body even nearer. He studied me, examining every movement for a flinch away from him. There was none. Desire bubbled from my core, spilled through me, and supercharged my nerves.
Rayhan stepped closer, and I moved away, but my back caught against the edge of a stone wall. He shifted his hand on my shoulders to brush his thumb across my throat. My pulse pounded harder for him, stealing his attention to my neck.
I put my palms on his chest, and he froze. Any hesitation, the slightest push, and I knew he would leave. I fisted his tunic fabric between my fingers and pulled him closer. He obliged, and a rumbling growl sprouted from his core and sank into mine.
I expected him to kiss me, but the vampire tilted his head at the last minute and his lips brushed over my jawline. Tingles webbed through my skin, spiraling down my chest, digging into the center of my body. I moaned and leaned my head back to give him more room. The rough stubble peppered across his jaw tickled as he trailed over my neck, heightening every tender brush.
Suddenly, Rayhan’s touch disappeared.
Without his support, I toppled forward and caught myself on a stack of firewood. Rayhan stood several steps away, his back to me and both hands on his head. His breathing echoed like he’d just run a hard race.
“Why’d you do that to me, girl?” he asked, still turned away.
I rubbed my fingers across the places he’d kissed. The doubts that began in Ella’s room unfolded in my chest. I was too plain and boring to excite him. He grew up in a castle as the king’s best friend, and I grew up bathing in an icy river. He expected things from a woman, and I had nothing to offer. Resolve hardened me. I didn’t want him either.
“What do you mean?” I sharpened my words. “You kissed me.”
He spun on his heels. “You practically begged me. You pulled me closer.” He ran one hand over his stubbled chin. “It’s been too long since I’ve fed. You’re lucky I didn’t take a bite just now.”
That explained the missed kiss. He only saw me as food. Curiosity outweighed the cut of rejection for a moment. I had never imagined a vampire’s bite. Would it hurt? It must not be that bad. The vampires had hundreds of humans volunteering to feed them.
“Why didn’t you?” The words were bolder than I felt.
“Why didn’t I…bite you?” Rayhan’s face pinched. “Did you want me to?”
I shrugged. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to, but it hurt that he thought I was so disgusting to even merit the chance.
“Never mind,” I said. “Let’s talk to whoever you dragged me to see and get this over with.”
I stalked toward the cabin door, but Rayhan blocked me.
“Well, there’s another thing,” he said.
I crossed my arms. “What?”
“She’s not actually here.”
“Then why are we here?”
“I was hoping you’d be okay with some recreational breaking and entering.”
“Recreational…what?”
“Recreational breaking and entering.” Rayhan gestured as he spoke. “I’ll break the door, we enter, you do magic, and we leave.” He smiled.
Unbelievable.
“What’s the penalty for breaking and entering in Vari Kolum?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a fine?”
“What’s the penalty for an escaped prisoner breaking and entering a vampire residence in the midst of wartime?”
Rayhan rolled his eyes. “You’re not an escaped prisoner.”
“But the rest is true.”
“Look, girl, it’s easy. I’ll break the door…”
Rayhan’s foot launched faster than I could track. He connected with the door, and the wooden latch splintered into a thousand pieces. It smacked against the wall and ricocheted back toward us. Rayhan pushed it open and bowed in a grand gesture.
“… and now we enter,” he said.
I balled my hands into fists. Several responses rested on the tip of my tongue, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I shouldered past Rayhan into the cottage. It would be best to get in, snoop with whatever kind of magic Rayhan expected, and get out before the vampire came home.
The interior of the cabin stretched small, but comfortable. The rounded stones resembled river rocks, the sharp edges smoothed away. A wide fireplace sprawled against most of the back wall, and bright paintings and tapestries decorated the rest of the room. Unlike the stone floors in the castle, this one was composed of slabs of polished wood. A couch perched at the foot of a full bed, and several bookshelves rose on the opposite side. An obviously handmade table, barely long enough for two plates, sat by the door at the edge of a petite kitchen. I ran a hand across its face, and the wood was soft and worn.
“Who lives here?” I needed a name to fit into the house. The colors were rich and warm, but underneath it all, something unsettled twisted. The table, the bed, the meager couch. It all felt lonely.
“Her name is Bria Ofperalta. She was my father’s mentor for a long time.”
I pulled out the wooden chair and sat on it. Not even a wobble.
“The decor is rather masculine.”
“Bria used to be married.” Rayhan looked around the room, but he lingered in the doorway. I had a feeling he didn’t want to do the entering part of recreational breaking and entering. “I don’t think she redecorated after her husband died.”
“Why not?”
“There’s always been some questions about how Sion died,” Rayhan said. “Maybe she thought redecorating would draw more suspicion.”
I pulled my hand from the wood like it was hot. “Questions?”
Rayhan shrugged. “Bria was never indicted of a crime, but a perfectly healthy vampire doesn’t kneel over and die without an explanation.”
“Your father did,” I pointed out.
Rayhan shook his head. “The autopsy showed a lot of problems with Dad’s body. Sion’s looked normal. The cause of death was undetermined, and Bria lived a quiet life after that. She used to be Head Advisor to King and Queen Hendrick, before...”
“Before what?”
“Nothing. They’ve been dead a long time now.”
“Do you think Bria’s husband was poisoned too?”
“You’re the one with the magic. You’re supposed to answer these questions, girl.”
Oh right.
Rayhan narrowed his eyes. “Are you actually going to do any magic, or are you planning to sit around all day and wait for lunch to be served?”
A spark of anger coursed through me, but it doused quickly. I had promised to do magic and by golly, I needed to do magic.
“Fine.” I scooted from the table, scratching the legs unnecessarily loud on the wooden floor. Maybe I could stall long enough for Bria to come home, report us for breaking and entering, and be hanged. Can’t do magic if I’m dead.
I found the center of the room and tried to persuade tendrils of my power from its locked cage. My mother’s spell ground around my magic and trapped it inside me. I pulled harder, expecting more resistance.
Instead, a wisp grabbed at me. One faint sliver of power escaped my mother’s binds and circled through the space. It was thin and weak, but I clutched at it like the last rays of light before an endless winter.
The magic ran through the cabin and lingered at the right edge of the room, near the bed and a square window. I followed it, attempting to build its power. Once I reached the place it had settled, the fleeting wisps disappeared.
I kneeled on the ground and pressed my fingers into the floor. I pulled at my magic, but nothing else happened. There must have been some reason it called me here. I studied the space, but the floor appeared unremarkable, as were the bed and the walls.
“What?” Rayhan’s voice raised an octave. “Did you feel something?”
“Yeah,” I said, but I didn’t know what it was.
“Is it something from my father?”
No, it felt like something else—warmer, happier. But the sensation faded.
“Can you be quiet? You’re ruining my concentration.” Apparently, I needed a lot of concentration to pretend to do magic. Even though the power had fled, I had to convince Rayhan that I could solve Manveer’s murder. Rayhan’s jaw snapped shut, but those broody eyes tracked my every move.
I sank to the floor between the humble bedframe and the rock wall and crossed my legs. I rested my palms on my knees and grounded myself in the space, the way my mother taught me. An earthy scent of stone and wood filled my nose. Coolness from the rock beneath me seeped into my skin. With each inhale, I pulled more of the surroundings into myself and tried to expel my magic with every exhale.
The power didn’t move. The phantom wasn’t here.
Time to fake it.
I began a slow chant, feeling the shape of each word as my tongue clicked against the back of my teeth. The rhythm I picked wasn’t musical, it vibrated deep and tonal and chunky, but it fit the rustic warmth of the house. As the chanting grew louder, I increased the speed, letting my voice flow through the home and the gaping hole a stranger’s death had left behind. An invisible wind swirled over me as the cabin responded to my voice.
My magic couldn’t fill the space, but nature held its own raw power. The wooden floor and rich stone walls sang a song of grief and loss. My voice became the catalyst, the permission to ease the sorrow that Bria had wrapped around her for so long. I chanted until the current of natural magic faded away and only the sound of my own voice echoed in my ears.
I threw my head back and let the silence settle. The home felt happier, content, a cocoon for Bria to rest in instead of a shrine for her mourning.
“Did it work?”
Rayhan’s words broke my focus. For a moment, I had forgotten he was here, had forgotten why I was here.
“Um…” I had to give him some sliver of hope to keep working with me. I had to get home. “Yes. It worked.”
“What did you see?” The vampire couldn’t hide the eagerness in his tone.
Yeah, Nat, what did you see?
“There’s a heaviness lingering here.” That was true, at least. “The house feels empty, alone. Loss has settled in this place.”
Silence.
I opened my eyes, and Rayhan stared at me.
“What?” I asked.
“That’s it? There’s a heaviness here?”
“What did you expect?” I crossed my arms.
“Last time, you saw my dad. A cup shattered on the floor. Now, you say the house feels heavy? Of course it does, it’s a stone house.”
I pressed my lips, and anger and frustration rolled through me. He was right, my words were weak, but it annoyed me anyway.
“I’ve told you a dozen times that magic doesn’t work the way you want it to.” Especially mine, which didn’t work at all. “If you don’t like it, you can cut the deal and take me home right now.”
“I’d rather lock you in the dungeon and throw away the key.”
That option grew more tempting by the day.
I pushed up, and my wrists groaned as the silver shackles brushed over them. The salve Ruby applied had soothed the sting, but the fabric refused to stay around the metal. It wouldn’t be long until my flesh became broken and bleeding again. I clenched my teeth and ignored the pain.
“Well?” Rayhan crossed his arms too, and his muscles bulged far more menacing than mine. “Is there anything else you can do?”
I opened my mouth, armed with a harsh reply, but a breeze slipped around Rayhan and a cluster of green-gold leaves furrowed through the doorway. The debris drifted into the cabin and ground to a stop on Bria’s furniture.
“I suppose you did that?” Rayhan watched the leaves fall.
“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” I snapped.
“You don’t seem to be capable of anything.” The vampire stepped inside and snatched a leaf. When he opened his hand, green powder lined his palm. “Let’s clean these up and get out of here before Bria comes home.”
I bit my tongue and grabbed a wide leaf from the bedside table. The only personal item on the nightstand was a leatherbound book with a title imprinted in gold lettering. When I reached for another leaf, the corner of a folded note nestled inside the pages of the book brushed my hand.
I let the foliage scatter to the ground and pulled the paper free. Letters scrawled across the page in the same handwriting as the one from Manveer’s cupboard that I’d hid in the secret crevice with my knife.
MW – 8:30 pm – BB
“What is it?”
I couldn’t hide the paper this time. “It’s a note.”
“What’s it say?” Rayhan stood behind me. I pretended not to notice the parts of his body that almost touched me.
I handed him the note, and his face pinched.
“What’s it mean?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“BB? Could that be initials for a poison?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why does Bria have a note with my dad’s initials?”
“Rayhan, I don’t know!”
The vampire curled his fingers into a fist, crushing the page.
“Dad’s been dead for over a year, why would she keep it this long?” The words barely hissed through his stiff lips. A roaring sea twisted around me. Rayhan became the eye of the storm, and I got caught in the violent current. “She did it. She killed him the way she killed her husband.”
“Rayhan, we don’t know that.”
“You said there was a heaviness in the house. What’s heavier than plotting to kill your mentee? Someone who looked up to you?”
I ran through a list in my head. Grief, sadness, depression. Emotions carried weight based on the person feeling them, not the feeling itself. I didn’t say it out loud. These weren’t the words Rayhan wanted.
The vampire spun around and thundered to the door, dragging the fury of a tropical storm in his wake. He had death in his eyes, and he wouldn’t stop until he found Bria, wherever she was.
I couldn’t let him go. Maybe Bria was involved in Manveer’s murder, the note seemed suspicious, but I wouldn’t allow Rayhan to administer justice based on my lies. The only thing my power did was help heal the hole Bria’s sorrow had cast. I refused to be the judge and jury in her execution.
I grabbed Rayhan’s elbow and dug my heels into the floor. The man pulled me along, not even noticing my weight. We slipped through the busted door and over the two steps of the front walkway. The grass didn’t help my quest. My feet glided along the damp strands.
“Rayhan, wait!”
His face turned an unhealthy shade of red, and sweat scattered on the back of his neck. This wasn’t working. He would just drag me all the way.
I dropped his arm and sprinted to the cabin. Hopefully, fury would cloud his judgment and he wouldn’t start running. I’d never be able to outrun a vampire. I skirted through the kitchen drawers, tossing spoons and forks to the floor. Come on, every kitchen has knives.
There. A butcher's block on the counter held a selection of knives, ground into the wood with precision-carved slits. I pulled out a flat-edged blade and ran after Rayhan.
He was halfway to the castle, his back to me, hard lines of determination squaring his shoulders.
“Hey!” I screamed, but his steps faltered for only a moment.
Alright then. My grip shook as I lifted the knife to my forearm. I took a steadying breath. I didn’t need to cut my whole hand off.
The sharp edge sliced into my flesh, and blood welled from the wound. The ruby drops pooled together, lingered for a moment, then cascaded down my skin into a macabre waterfall. It hurt, but the spinning red ribbons appeared so stark against my pale flesh. The pain faded away as the rose trails drew twisting lace down my arm. I tilted my hand, letting the liquid flow to my fingertips, a river of life fluid sacrificed to the ground.
I hadn’t heard his return, but Rayhan’s wide shadow settled over the dripping blood. His eyes trailed the liquid across my hand.
“What have you done?” His flat voice sounded almost like a whisper.
“You wouldn’t listen to me.” I matched his tone. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Rayhan circled his fingers around my wrist and drew my arm close to him. He dipped his finger into the trail of blood, and it smudged on my skin.
“Not this,” he whispered. “Never this.”
He held me, his attention entrapped in the fluid leaking down my fingertips. Our body heat fused together, blending a spicy mix of mint and breeze between us. His gaze trailed over the wound and up to my eyes, thrusting me into a sea brimming with desire. For my blood or my body, I was afraid to ask.
He dropped my hand and pulled his shirt over his head. “We have to cover this or the whole castle will smell the blood. This was stupid, girl. There’re other ways you could have gotten my attention.”
“I called your name.”
“Something can be effective and stupid.” Rayhan’s nostrils flared as he wrapped the black fabric around my forearm. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I don’t need you to get an infection.”
“Then I wouldn’t be able to keep helping you.” I rolled my eyes.
“Exactly.”
Rayhan dragged me up the castle steps, hesitated for a moment at the doorway, then fixed the makeshift blindfold over my eyes. He led me through a twisting hallway and pulled the cover off. I followed him, pressing his shirt over the gash in my flesh, and tried to ignore the bare skin on his back. It was a very nice back, admittedly, but all men had backs. This one shouldn’t be able to light a smoldering fire in my gut and make me wonder if he would feel as soft as he looked.
“Here.” Rayhan stopped in front of a nondescript door and pulled me inside.
The room resembled a small cave. The orange-toned walls had been painted matte gray, and a lush carpet spanned the floor. A mahogany headboard towered catty-corner to the door behind a wall of windows. The space begged for a fireplace, but there wasn’t one. Double doors hinted at a balcony, but thick curtains covered the glass panes and blocked my view outside. Two additional doorframes nestled into the walls, one to the right and the left.
“Sit on the chair.” Rayhan gestured to a leather armchair near the foot of the bed. A twin sat next to it. He went the other way, digging through a wooden cupboard and swearing beneath his breath.
The material felt cool under the chiffon dress, and the chair swallowed me with comfort. I pulled Rayhan’s shirt away from the gash. The bleeding had already stopped, leaving a red haze smeared across my arm.
“Alright, this one will be cold.” Rayhan slapped a wet rag over my forearm before I could protest. The chill seeped through the wound and into the muscle underneath. He kneeled in front of me and rested my wrist on his knee. He wiped the cloth around the cut in gentle circles, careful not to split the skin.
He leaned very close to me. His sprawling chest hovered inches from my fingertips and beckoned me like a moth to a flame. Hard lines of muscles creased his abs, not thick, but lean and flexible from years on a battlefield. He had an expanse of freckles across his shoulders, caused by a combination of his fair skin and sun exposure, but they faded before his pecs. I clenched my fingers into a fist, avoiding any temptation to test how those muscles would feel.
I remembered when he pulled away from me at Bria’s cabin. I forced my gaze somewhere else. He wasn’t interested in me. I was weak, magicless, and couldn’t bring him one step closer to avenge his father. I hadn’t been able to save my mother years ago, and I was running out of time to save my dad now.
Escape had to be my priority, my only desire.
“And this one will sting.” He smacked a second rag down and sharp tendrils stabbed into my cut. I tried to pull my hand back, but Rayhan held it tight. “I told you.” A hint of a smile touched his face.
He pulled the cloth away and set down a gauze bandage. He wrapped medical tape around it, secure enough to keep the edges closed, but not to interfere with circulation to my arm.
Unspoken words sat between us.
“Thank you,” I said. They weren’t the right words, but they were the only ones I had.
“Yeah.” Rayhan released my wrist and remained kneeling by the chair. “I need you to be healthy.”
I pulled my hand to my chest and nodded. He needed me to solve Manveer’s murder.
Rayhan tilted his head and his face pinched. Like an ocean current, a riptide pulling me out to sea, something lingered in his gaze. He opened his mouth, then paused and glanced toward the door.
“Someone’s coming.”
Why did someone always arrive in the moments I very much wanted to be alone?
“Crap. I know who it is.” Rayhan looked between me and the doorway. “She can’t see you. Quick, in here.”
He pulled me from the chair and peeled open the door on the left. I expected a washroom or closet, but surprise caught me when it opened into an art gallery. Rayhan pushed me inside, and I stumbled as the lock clicked shut. A moment later, voices tumbled through, Rayhan’s and a woman’s.
Curiosity tore me. I wanted to know what mystery woman barged into Rayhan’s room, but the paintings captured my attention. I ventured deeper into the gallery.
Two easels each held a half-finished piece on their wooden frames. More canvases were stacked around the room, some covered with a thick sheet while others remained bare. The space was a cascade of rich color. Most of the paintings depicted landscapes, but humanoid figures and silhouettes peppered some of the fabrics. They had similar short brushstrokes, soft but vivid colors, and an impression of a picturesque setting. Too bright and brilliant and colorful to be reality, but detailed enough to second-guess that thought.
I studied the nearest easel. The displayed canvas held a mellow lakeside location and a rainbow sunset dropped behind the crystalline water. Unfinished beginnings of a yellow blanket spread over marbled grass. The sun wasn’t visible, but thick streaks warmed the painting, and I could almost feel the rays across my skin. A woman’s shape was sketched atop the blanket, but paint hadn’t yet filled in the pencil lines.
Looking around the expansive space, surrounded by stone and vibrant artwork, I yearned for the grassy field this mystery silhouette perched in. I wanted to touch the icy water lapping against my feet as the sunshine warmed my hair. I reached for the canvas, half against my will, but paused. My natural oils would muddy the paint, and this art didn’t deserve that fate.
Another painting caught my eye. A simple meadow, hues of green and yellow and gold, but the strong black strokes of the artist’s signature drew me in.
Rayhan Whylde.