Page 36 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

“It doesn’t help that our lives are very long,” he said pensively. “It’s not unusual for vampires to go for years without speaking to another of our kind. Even siblings. We tend to think that it matters little, but time apart can wreak havoc on any relationship, whether or not we’d like to admit it.”

“How long has it been since he was last in Valnar?” I asked.

He sighed. “We haven’t seen each other for seven years, and I believe we hadn’t spoken for nearly ten. Apart from some written correspondence, of course.”

“But he still came to train me?” I asked.

He glanced down at me. “Enhart and I might not always get along, but he is my brother.”

“I understand,” I said. “My brother and I fought all the time when we were children, but we were always family.”

A beat passed between us. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

I nodded. “Jem. At three years my elder, he always thought he knew best.”

“I’m inclined to agree with the eldest son,” he said, winking. “Where is he now?”

I took a deep breath. I had learned it was better to say it quickly. “There was an outbreak of violet fever in my village over ten years ago. My brother was one of many who perished. My parents, too.” I still remembered the horror etched into Gran’s wrinkled face when we learned that none of them had survived. “Violet fever?” he echoed. “It’s quite rare these days.”

I nodded. Named for the purplish hue that spread beneath the skin of its victims, the disease had wiped out nearly a quarter of our village within a matter of weeks.

His gaze flicked down to meet mine. “I’ve never seen it myself, but I’ve read about it. You were spared?”

I nodded. “I was. My grandmother, too. Once the symptoms began to show, word spread across the Outlands. When the plague doctors arrived from Bard, they sent my family to die in a hovel with the rest of the infected while the rest of us were confined to our homes under threat of imprisonment.” I dug my nails into my palms. “My brother was the strongest of them,” I said quietly. “The last to die.”

The last to die alone.

“I’m sorry, Finn,” he said. “It’s always difficult to lose someone you love, but I imagine that to lose so many at once hurts that much more.”

I nodded. I knew that Mordric, too, was no stranger to loss. His family’s history was written in books, his parents’ faces immortalized in statues and portraits around the kingdom. It must have been painful to be reminded of them so vividly each day. My family existed only in my memories.

I had read that his mother perished in a riding accident en route to her ancestral home when Mordric was young. King Norrix never remarried, and it was said that he and his entire court mourned the loss of their queen until he succumbed to old age nearly a century ago. If only we could all be so lucky. To die peacefully at the end of our natural lives. To be beloved by so many.

My heart fluttered as Mordric’s fingers brushed mine. We fell into a comfortable silence, our only company the beasts and the guards who protected them. When I lifted my gaze, I saw something more than the beloved King of Valen, I realized. I saw the eldest son who had been forced to shoulder responsibility for an entire kingdom after the loss of his parents. I couldn’t imagine the weight of that duty. My heart ached for him.

When the sky grew light, we began the long walk home, strolling idly beneath the thick canopy while Mordric spoke warmly of the wyvern hatchlings. “Look,” he said, pausing upon a grassy outcrop. “This is my favorite view of the castle.”

The breeze tickled my cheek as I gazed out upon the sprawling grounds. The castle was bathed in the dusty light of dawn as snow began to fall. It was beautiful.

When I glanced up, Mordric’s face was serious. Despite the chill that nipped at my nose, and snowflakes that landed in my hair, his skin was remarkably unweathered by the cold morning, reminding me of the vampire that he was. It was so easy to forget. “Is something the matter?” I whispered, my heart beating against my ribcage.

Wordlessly, he grazed the line of my jaw with this thumb, tilting my chin up to his.

A shiver ran through me as our lips touched, the soft brush of his mouth against mine surprising me. I had almost expected him to be as hard and unyielding as a marble statue. He pressed firmly against the small of my back with one hand, the other running delicately from my face to my hair, pulling me close. A gasp nearly escaped me as he ran his tongue lightly against mine. I melted into him, arching my back to close the distance between us.

For this single, precious moment, I let the world around me melt into oblivion. There was nothing else. Only Mordric.

“You’re not trying,” Enhart growled as I failed, yet again, to force him from my mind.

“Do you ever have anything else to say?” I bit back. “It’s not as if I’ve been wasting time here. My wards are strong and you know it. Mordric even said so. The only problem is you.”

A cruel laugh met my ears. “Oh Mordric said so, did he? Then why isn’t he here night after night enduring this endless torture? You really think that I’m the worst thing you’ll encounter on the king’s council?”

“I don’t doubt it,” I snarled, slapping away the finger that he was waving in front of my face.

“I should have your hand taken for that,” he threatened.

Rage churned beneath my skin. “Take them both for all I care,” I cried. “Maybe then I wouldn’t have to see you ever again.”