Page 131 of Tainted Souls
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My parents insist I accept him. They tell me I have no choice. That he is the only suitor remaining (truly, a matter most mysterious). After all, Victoria has secured the affections of Kaspar, and Lenora has won the heart of Aliphas. It is my duty to wed Cain, to preserve the purity of our Noble bloodlines.
But I say, let them call me obstinate.
Let them seethe in their gilded worry.
If they believe they can chain me, they are mistaken. I shall forge my own path, even if it means the world reckons with the consequences.
My brain stutters. “So, Mom was supposed to marry Cain, but she chose Dad instead.”
Saul is silent beside me, his eyes skimming the same lines. For once, he doesn’t offer commentary. Doesn’t mock or deflect.
We just sit there, side by side, trying to see the shape of the woman who made us, the man she once chose, and the man she chose to cast out. All in the name of love.
Our mother’s choice was unprecedented—a rejection of legacy, a defiance of destiny. And that makes us more than a threat.
We’re a living insult to Cain’s pride. His bloodline. Maybe even a prophecy he thought belonged to him.
I represent everything he lost. And everything he still believes he can own. Worse, the ability that runs through me comes from that union.
And Cain wantsmefor it.
212
Corvivale never fails to bewilder. The scent of roasted chestnuts, candied apples, and honey cakes mingling in the air,irresistible to any mortal that passes by, their laughter ringing over the clamor of wagers and cheers. I lingered near the dueling pits, the sand churned by vitae and fury, watching as Cain performed his accustomed spectacle. He claimed victory after victory, each duel another notch in his relentless streak. Pride gleamed in his eyes, as it always did, and the crowd adored him for it. This year, however, marked his first defeat. By none other than the young son of Aliphas and Lenora: Ascelin. He stepped into the pit, challenging Cain as if he were born for no other purpose than to undo him. He moved with a confidence, competence, and cunning that belied his years, stirring a curious warmth inside me. With a final, deft strike, he bested Cain. When the pit erupted, Cain’s pride visibly faltered, and something dark crossed his features. It was truly a sight for sore eyes.
“Please don’t tell me Ace is short for Ascelin,” I say, unsure if I’m ready to read about their bond.
Saul offers me a tight-lipped smile. “Fine, I won’t tell you.”
335
I brought Roman with me to Corvivale today, eager for him to see the wonders of it through mortal eyes. He marveled with the delight of one unburdened by eternity, but no corner of the fair could hide us from Cain’s menacing gaze. Everywhere we turned, his presence lingered like a shadow stretched over the bright shows and stalls. Roman, blissfully unaware, laughed at a passing juggler, oblivious to the brute tracing our steps. I could only smile faintly, part amusement, part warning, and lead him onward. Cain did not need to speak; the weight of his scrutiny was threat enough, reminding me that amusement and affection carry consequences I must acknowledge. And I shall, with defiance.
“Corvivale sounds fun,” I remark. “Does it still exist?”
“It does,” Saul says, his eyes glinting. “It’s quite magical, really.”
That sparks a flicker of excitement in me, and for a moment, I let myself hope we might actually see it together—Saul, Mom, and I, with Dad watching from above.
390
The forest held us in its quiet, the lake reflecting the soft gold of dawn. Roman was at my side, steady and warm, his hand over mine as our dhampir children came into the world.
Twins—Saul and Seraph—rested in my arms, trembling with life as I held them close. Their tiny hearts beat against mine, and for the first time, the weight of eternity felt gentle. Roman whispered their names, and I echoed them softly, tasting the wonder and fear and love all at once. For a moment, nothing else existed but us, and the world felt forgiving. After finding shelter from the sun’s cruel touch, I told Roman it is safest for him to bring them to Penn City. At least until they are older, stronger. At least until I had taken care of whose name I refuse to taint this page with.
Saul & Seraph Rosen: I cannot wait to see the span of your lives unfurl, to witness the joy and wonder that will one day be wholly your own.
A single tear traces my cheek as I linger over the page, my heart swelling with awe and the poignant ache of our mother’s love, etched into centuries-old ink. In the few entries after, she wrote about how Dad managed to earn her Pennian citizenship, on the grounds of being the mother of his children.
Despite the endless scrutiny and being kept under high surveillance, the first few years were manageable. Later ones, however, not so much. Sacrificing more of her strength by livingon rations like an assimilated vampire wasn’t affordable any longer. She couldn’t allow herself to be weak, not when she had two children to protect.
Not with Cain still out there, plotting and planning.
She eventually left, living apart, but not disconnected. She wrote of the visits, the moments stolen between duty and danger.
The remainder of the journal traces the part of her life she spent connecting with those I despise. If only she knew what Ascelin would do once he grew up—once he became leader of the Ravens, Revenant, Ace—I’m sure she wouldn’t be speaking so fondly of him then.
