“It was ancient there, too,” Ventos adds. “Looked as old as this one.”
“So, the Raven Man really could be from the time of Solos,” Winny murmurs.
Her musings bring up a question I hadn’t considered earlier. “I was under the impression that vampir couldn’t live forever?”
“Naturally, no. But the blood lore was designed to strengthen the vampir’s body. An early goal of the experimentations was to elongate one’s life. However, much like turning a human to vampir, the cost was too great,” Callos says.
“Was anyone ever successful?”
“No, and it was forbidden after the test group escaped.” Callos shakes his head. “It required vast amounts of blood…taken by force. And blood taken by force is the antithesis to the true lore. It’s not nearly as effective and can only be used for particular rituals without intense purification.”
Blood taken by force is the antithesis of the true lore…I’ve heard them say it before. If Solos was the founder of the blood lore, then why was Solos keeping humans as test subjects? Was he actually mind controlling them and that was his way around getting them to give their blood freely? It doesn’t make sense. I stare up at the statue, willing it to come to life and tell me the secrets of the man it was modeled after.
“Let’s move along. The smithy is this way,” Ruvan says before I can voice my wonderings aloud, starting for the door that heads to the halls we’ve been occupying.
The rest of the group lingers in the main hall, beginning to set about their work. Ruvan excuses himself, remarking that he’s tired, and heads upstairs. I wonder if I should follow, but Drew is waiting on me to show him the smithy and I only have until sundown with my brother.
Alone together, I guide him down to the armory. He marvels, much like I did, at the collection of antique hunter’s tools. And then gazes in wonder at the forge itself.
As a child, he always seemed to resent the smithy. It was work. It was a job he never had to do. But now, his eyes glisten as he runs his fingertips over the anvil. He inspects the billows with care, as though he’s going to begin work himself. Much like I did at our family’s smithy, he ends up at the hearth, holding a hand over it, feeling its residual warmth with more than his palm.
There will always be the smell of hot metal, smoke, and soot on our souls. Even if his path was different. We are both of the same initial casting.
Drew’s inspection comes to an end when his eyes finally land on me. “You look at home here.” The words sound sad, and somewhat filled with longing.
“It’s a smithy. I will always be at home near a forge.” I push myself up onto one of the tables, swinging my feet.
“No, it’s more than that, you’re comfortable among them. You move and act like them now. You’re stronger, faster. Your face is fuller and brow more relaxed.” After a quick inspection of my work, Drew leans against the table opposite, arms folded. “If anything, you look more at home because you got out of our smithy for a bit.”
“You say that like I was supposed to leave Hunter’s Hamlet earlier.”
“It would’ve been good for you.”
“I didn’t have a choice in being there—the hamlet or the smithy.” I’m trying to figure out what my brother is hoping to achieve with this line of thought. “You know my circumstances as well as I do.”
“And I wished they were different for you and me at every turn.” He shakes his head. “You have to know that was one of my reasons for teaching you how to fight.”
“You were teaching me so I could protect Mother and myself.”
“True. But there was a part of me that hoped you would see how much more you could be. There’s more to you, Floriane, than a talented blacksmith. Maybe I wanted you to have the strength to fight back against your circumstances when you were ready.”
This line of thought, his words…it all feels like I’ve swallowed live worms. They squirm uncomfortably within me and make me feel sick. What he’s saying isn’t wrong. I know it’s not. In fact, it’s how close it is to the conclusions I ultimately drew that makes me all the more discomfited.
“That was my destiny. I couldn’t change it. Until…” My voice trails off. I look to the giant maw of the forge. I can see Ruvan leaning against one of the tables by it, my quiet and steady companion while I work. “Until I finally did realize that destiny is like metal—seemingly unbendable until you put it under heat and pressure. You can forge it into the shape you want.”
Drew smiles, genuine and sad. I know his sorrow. For the first time, our paths aren’t perfectly aligned. We’re not enemies, but we’re no longer at each other’s sides. Shoulder to shoulder, marching forth. We’re each working toward the same thing, but now truly in our own ways.
“And I see in reshaping your destiny you’ve found yourself more willing to attract the eye of a suitor.”
I swallow thickly. The uncomfortable sensation in my gut gets worse. “I don’t have a suitor.”
“Are you sure?” Drew arches his eyebrows. I manage a nod. “Does the vampir lord know that?”
“We’re not—I’m not—It’s not like—The bloodsworn is—” How do I explain something I’ve barely managed to come to terms with? No matter how much I’ve been able to silence the insecurities that have been engrained in me within my own mind, I’m not ready to face Drew’s assessment.
“You were always an awful liar, Flor.” Drew pushes away from the table. He crosses to look up at me, right in the eye. There’s no escaping his disapproval.
Suddenly, I’m a girl again. “Don’t tell Mother,” I squeak.
