The Night Castle
1449 Words
Rowan’s POV
I just don’t get it.
I don’t get any of it. I mean, what’s wrong with her, for starters? Wolves don’t get sick once they hit eighteen; their inner wolves are strong enough to kill off any common colds, bugs, or flus before they even begin. Sure, we’re still known to get some of the more serious diseases from time to time, but the Crescent bloodline isn’t known to be susceptible to any of those.
And besides that, what’s going on with her emotionally?
She’s always been stubborn and strong, but she’s never been stupid. Why is she acting like it’s no big deal? Why is she so insistent on pushing forward to Meridian? She’s right that our options are limited, but her health is the priority. She’s our queen. She’s my queen.
A band of thirty or so vampires carrying flags with a sigil I don’t recognize approach us almost as soon as we cross into Archon.
My father signals for fifty of his strongest men to ride forward, but it’s pretty clear they don’t mean us any harm; their swords are sheathed, and the one in front has his arms raised to signify innocent intentions.
“Your Majesty,” the vampire in front says, bowing his hand. “My name is Bennett Brockton. I am King Vance Eaton’s curia regis, as it were—his chief counselor.”
His Beta, in other words.
Red nods respectfully. She’s straight enough on her horse, though noticeably pale and sweaty. “I don’t recognize the banner you’re waving, Sir Brockton.”
He nods. “Updating our sigil was one of His Majesty’s first acts as official King of Archon. As both a gesture of good will to you and a reminder to his own people that the time of Ramsay Eaton is over, you see. The new banners show a dawn breaking into a starry sky—a symbol of change.”
“Indeed.” She eyes the banners warily. “Yet, still there is blood.”
She’s right; though more subtle than Ramsay Eaton’s sigil, the base of the image is still painted red with a pool of blood.
“Indeed,” affirms Bennett. “We are vampires, after all, Majesty. Blood is holy to us.”
Fucking vampires.
“We’ve had a long and arduous journey,” my father says, clearing his throat, “and hope to reach Meridian within a matter of days. Does King Vance wish to see us before we reach Meridian, or might we postpone such a meeting until after we reach our homeland?”
I wish he hadn’t said that. This joker doesn’t need to know how arduous the journey has been. Bennett’s eyes flicker over to Red, scanning her pallid face, and I resist the urge to growl.
“He had hoped to meet with Her Majesty,” Bennett admits. “But I’m sure he would be most amenable, given the… situation.”
What a prick.
“Allow us to escort you to the Night Castle,” Bennett continues. “It’s virtually empty right now, as His Majesty is still in Scarlet City, sorting out the mess Ramsay Eaton left behind. And it’s directly on the path to Meridian. You can sleep there, leave in the morning, and reach Meridian by tomorrow night. We’ll have room enough in the castle for the bulk of your nobility, and plenty of room outside of it for the rest of your group to make camp.”
Interesting, I muse, that he referred to Ramsay not as King Ramsay, but just as Ramsay. Maybe they really did decide they all hated the guy.
Good.
I glance at Red, who glances back at me. What do you think? she links to me. It’s not some sort of setup, is it?
I highly doubt it; to invite guests into your own home and then s*******r them under your own roof is too low even for vampires. And I like the thought of you sleeping in a real bed tonight. Might do you some good.
Her mouth twitches, and again I’m overwhelmed with confusion as to what exactly she’s hiding from me—or, at least, why she’s acting so strange. But she looks away from me, nodding politely to Bennett. “We would be delighted to take you up on your offer.”
And away we go.
- - - - -
I can tell the instant she takes her first step into the castle that this was a mistake.
I don’t know why I didn’t foresee it, honestly. Ramsay Eaton never took her to this particular castle, but it’s the center castle—the main castle—of Archon, which means he spent plenty of time here. How could she possibly be alright with staying in a place he spent so many nights and days in? How can I?
We can still change our minds, I tell her when I see her expression. I reach to take her hand, and for a split second, she retracts from me. She takes it as soon as she’s recovered, but the damage is done. You shouldn’t have to be here.
We can’t change our minds. It would insult Vance and his hospitality. I’ll be fine.
We’re offered a late supper, but Red politely declines, saying all she wants is rest. I try to remember the last time she ate and frown when I come up empty. We’re escorted to our chambers—rooms right next to each other, of which, of course, we’ll only use one. We thank our Omega guide as he takes his leave of us, and, finally, we’re alone.
Her eyes trail over to the bed, but she looks away from it almost instantly, recoiling the same way she recoiled from my hand. It sickens her to be here—and she was already sick.
“Red,” I say softly, coming over to her and taking her in my arms. I rest my chin on the top of her head and bury my fingertips in her long, thick, messy mane of red hair. “How can I help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on?”
I expect her to lie again, or to make up some excuse. She’s been putting up such a strong front, pretending everything’s fine—that she only has a cold.
But, this time, she doesn’t. She bursts into tears, clinging to the back of my shirt for all she’s worth, burying her face in my chest.
I start crying, too, at that. Her tears have always gotten to me. The scent of moonflowers that reminds me so much of her mother; the pain and desperation to them that no one else’s tears quite seem to match… It’s all just too much.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so cold to you,” she whispers into my chest. “I’m sorry I haven’t been honest. I will, Rowan. I just…”
She just what? I’m grateful for her honesty, yet I get the sense she’s still not going to tell me what’s going on.
“I have to get us to Meridian,” she finishes, pulling way from me and drying her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “It’s all I can think about right now. If I think about anything else, I’m afraid we’ll never make it.”
What does that mean? It almost sounds like she’s…. dying.
I shake my head, refusing to accept even the possibility. “Red,” I beg. “Please.”
But she only shakes her head. “I’ll tell you everything when we get there. For now, let’s just sleep.”
But there’s no way in the Sun’s Hell that either of us is getting any sleep in Ramsay Eaton’s old castle.
- Writer
