Fixation
Myra picked at the rat on her plate. No amount of baking could hide the stench. She reached out to her glass of water to wash away the taste—water was all they drank here, scooped up at the underground river and boiled until it was safe.
“I’ve been thinking,” Zack said. “We need to decide who goes on the mission to the Palace.”
Myra swallowed her bite. “I thought it was decided—I go by myself, so we don’t risk any more lives.”
Zack gave her a stern look. “If you seriously believe there’s a chance the Prince would harm my ambassadors, I wouldn’t send you by yourself either. It’s either safe to go, or not. So, tell me, Myra, do you believe the Prince would hurt you or whoever I send?”
She shook her head. “As long as we hold Tristan, he won’t harm anyone.”
“This is complete madness,” said Thomas. “You spent two months as a prisoner there, and now you’re willingly going back and dragging others with you?”
“I trust Myra,” said Lidia. “If she says the Prince won’t harm the messengers, I believe it. I’d be happy to join the mission.”
Myra remembered the reason she had volunteered for her insane mission in the first place—to make sure Lidia, the only person in the Resistance with sufficient medical knowledge besides Dr. Dubois, would be safe. It all seemed like lifetimes ago. What would have happened if she had never volunteered? In all likelihood, Lidia would have been captured and killed after failing the Prince’s tests, and Myra would have continued her life in ignorance.
But it was all different now. This was no suicide mission, and she was indeed certain the Prince would harm no one. She smiled. “Thanks. I’ll be glad to have you, if it’s okay with Zack.”
“Very well,” Zack said. “One more volunteer, perhaps?”
“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” Andre said. “General, let me have this chance before I retire.”
“Excellent,” said Zack. “It’s settled, then—the three of you will go.”
Myra’s hand strayed to her collar, which hid her bite wound. Go and do what? Hang out with Vlad and pretend to be negotiating, and then come back and release Tristan anyway? But Tristan was in no condition to escape. He needed to feed at least once more. She had to share her blood once again.
The prospect sounded much less terrifying than before. The pain had been easier to bear than expected, but she was not sure she could face Tristan’s smugness again, or endure his ludicrous suggestions that she would enjoy it. Ever since his capture, she had tried to make him as comfortable as possible, and he had done his best to make her task even more difficult.
“Andre,” Myra said, “I hope you won’t be too disappointed if it doesn’t come to a fight. I’m pretty sure it won’t.”
The elderly warrior laughed. “The optimism of youth. It always comes to a fight.”
The next time Myra entered Tristan’s cell, she found him leaning limply against the wall, but awake. His skin no longer looked ashen and clammy, but Myra doubted he was in any condition to fight or run.
He greeted her with an overly cheerful grin. “Good morning, starshine.”
“You know it’s not even morning,” Myra said. “And ‘starshine’? Is that a vampire thing? I guess ‘sunshine’ would be out as a term of endearment.”
“Exactly,” the vampire said. “The only kinds of light we like are those that come at night. But you haven’t come here to discuss types of illumination, have you?”
“I think it’s obvious why I’m here,” Myra said. “I promised Vlad I’d help you escape, and you’re still too weak. You need to feed again.”
“Not on you,” he said.
“Do you see anyone else around?” she asked. “This is the only way.”
“You cannot lose any more blood so soon,” he said. “It is unhealthy, even if you feel no ill effects yet.”
Her gaze traveled from the tip of his golden head to the bottom of his feet. Neither his injuries from the cave nor Thomas’s handiwork were showing any visible signs of healing, which likely meant the vampire was still blood-deprived. “Then you claim you’re strong enough to escape?”
“I am not strong enough to fight, but I can still walk part of the way and crawl the rest.”
“We both know that’s not good enough.”
“Then you need to find another food source. You cannot spare any more blood.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I know better than you what I can spare.”
He stared at her for a moment before a wide smile spread across his face. “Oh, I see. You liked it so much that you want to do it again.”
Myra rolled her eyes. These were exactly the kind of comments that would make her walk out of the door and never try to help him again. And yet, she could not deny there was some truth to his words. She wanted to do it again. But why? Was she actually attracted to Tristan? Or… to vampirism? Was that it?
Myra took a deep breath. If it was so, she was no better than Sissi. At least Sissi was honest about it, while she was a self-righteous hypocrite. But it can’t be, can it? I’m simply confused. That’s all.
“How insightful you are,” she said. “Sorry to disappoint, but you’re really overestimating the appeal of your bite. I’m simply being reasonable. I can easily recover from a second bite, and you need the blood to regain your strength.”
“There is a way, you know,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed. “Last time you used that phrase, you suggested the Prince should feed off you. Should I assume this new idea is any less insane?”
“It is not insane,” he said. “It makes perfect sense.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m listening.”
“I could turn you if you like. As a vampire, you could spare a lot of blood without risking any long-lasting harm.”
Tristan’s face had been priceless when Myra had suggested serving as his food, but right now, she had no desire to imagine what her own face looked like. “Have you lost your mind? If you knew me at all, you’d know that’s the last thing I want. I’d rather die.”
“That was before,” Tristan said. “But now you have tasted darkness. Now you know what it feels like.”
“And now I want to be a vampire even less,” she said.
“Pity.” Tristan leaned his head against the wall, a lazy smile on his lips. “You’d make a good one. You are not like other humans.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Well, it’s not. Humans are amazing. And why are you trying to sell me on the idea? Almost like you want me to be a vampire.”
He smirked. “You got me. I do want this, indeed.”
She frowned. That’s unexpected. “Why?”
He shrugged, making his chains rattle. “Many reasons. You’d be a fresh new addition to our family. Better than Armida in any case.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What’s your problem with Armida?”
“Nothing personal,” Tristan said. “I dislike pretty much everyone. And, in any case, she dislikes me, and I tend to hate people who hate me.”
“Why would she dislike you?”
He smiled. “I know, right? No person in their right mind could possibly dislike me, and yet, she does. I guess she feels threatened by me. She knows that she is not my lord’s first lover, and she will not be the last. She is replaceable. I am not.”
“I noticed how she manipulated you into making the sacrifice while you were at the cave,” Myra said. “She used your pride to make you volunteer, and she didn’t even try to be subtle. She played you like a fiddle. I’m surprised you fell for it.”
“I didn’t ‘fall for it,’” Tristan said. “I knew what she was doing. I am not blind. I let her do it because I did not mind making the sacrifice, and my priority was to get my lord out of there, before he had done something stupid. If we argued and played games, we would have lost precious time. I had to step back and let her win before it became too late.”
“How noble of you,” Myra said.
“My noble deeds should have stopped surprising you by now,” he said. “And I offer you one more. Let me turn you. You know that this is what you want.”
“You’re crazy,” she said.
He tilted his head to the side and looked at her quizzically. “You are afraid. You think he will not be interested in you once you are turned.”
“This is not why—” she protested, but he interrupted her.
“You think my lord only talks to you because you can write, and if you are turned, you’ll lose that. And then, he will lose all interest in you.”
Myra bit her lip and glared at him. The thought had indeed occurred to her—that to Vlad she was nothing more than an instrument to finish his work.
“If you believe this,” Tristan continued, “then you do not know him at all. I can help you know him better. Then perhaps you will not make the same mistake I made.”
Myra stared at him. “You’ll tell me the story of his human life?”
“No,” Tristan said. “That tale is not mine to tell, and is filled with too much pain. But I can tell you the story of mine.”
The story of Tristan’s life… Myra remembered the tale he had started back in the Palace. The arrogant hermit poet, dreaming of something bigger and latching onto the mysterious worldly vampire who had arrived in his life. She often wondered how the story ended. Tristan had refused the Prince’s offer to turn him, terrified that if he lost his ability to write, Vlad would abandon him.
I had always been alone, his words echoed in her mind, but I had never been lonely. I had always enjoyed solitude, sought it, even. This was the first time I knew what it was like to be lonely. This was the first time I enjoyed someone else’s company more than my own, and the thought of losing it filled my heart with terror.
Tristan had hidden the true source of his doubts from the Prince, claiming that he was not ready to give up his poetry. Vlad had agreed to wait until Tristan asked to be turned. What had happened to make one of them change his mind?
Her heart raced. For a long time she had wished to learn more about Vlad, but now, looking at Tristan’s mischievous smile, at his pale chiseled face framed by messy golden hair, she wondered if she was more eager to hear his story instead. “Tell me,” she said.
“You remember where I left off last time?” he asked.
She nodded. “Vlad offered to turn you, but you refused, and he promised not to push you.”
“Precisely. Indeed, he kept his word.” Tristan fell quiet. “But now my fancy vampire hearing is telling me someone is approaching.”
Myra reacted fast. She took a step back and placed her hands on her waist. “If you want to live, you’ll work with me,” she said sternly. “The Prince is more likely to listen if we deliver a letter from you. You’ll write the letter and tell him how badly you’re feeling here and how much you want to return home.” She threw the door a brief glance as Lidia stepped in, carrying a bucket.
“Trying to make him help himself, huh?” she said. “I bet it’s a lost cause.”
“As expected,” Myra said. “What’s this?”
Lidia wrinkled her nose. “Freshly killed rats. Zack said we can’t let him starve.”
Myra suppressed a grin. She could almost hear Tristan’s mental groan at the announcement.
“Zack was looking for you, by the way,” Lidia said. “I think it has something to do with our mission.”
“Yes, of course, I’ll go right away,” Myra said, hiding her disappointment. She had waited to hear this story for so long, and now she had to wait even longer. “Don’t let him bite you.”
Lidia laughed. “I’d like to see him try.” Myra smiled, and with a last glance at the chained vampire, she left the cell.