CHAPTER45
My feet are weigheddown with every step we take. There is no excitement for me as we head back to the castle. The rest of them are restless with anticipation. I can hear their thunderous heartbeats over our racing steps.
They’re hopeful. I don’t blame them. If I were them, I would be, too. But I’m just far enough from this whole situation to see it more objectively.
It was too easy.
I had hoped it would be easy. And part of me wants to think it was because of our preparations. It was easy because Tersius was an old man, tired and failing, who had clung to life with stolen magic as the centuries ate him away. He was only a shell of whatever strong and capable wielder of blood lore he’d once been.
He had cursed himself with his own hatred, that much I think is true. But he hadn’t cursed the vampir. He was telling the truth. I can feel it in my bones that if he had been the one to lay the curse, the vampir would’ve been long dead.
We arrive back in the castle, breezing through it, sprinting down to the chapel. I know nothing has changed from the faint red light that glows up to us as we round the stairs. But they don’t slow until they see the coffin itself.
The three of them stand in the center of the chapel, arms at their sides. Callos turns from where he was keeping vigil. Quinn is already at the academy; he has been for a week.
“Well?” Callos asks when none of us say anything.
I want to answer but there’s a lump in my throat that I can’t quite swallow. My chest burns. Ruvan still lies in stasis, as perfect as a statue, as cold as death.
Ventos falls to his knees. He slumps. I expect him to shout, to yell, to turn his anger at me. This was my idea, after all. What I don’t expect is him to raise his large hands to his face, and shield himself from the world. I don’t expect his shoulders to tremble with tears he tries to hide.
Lavenzia turns her eyes skyward, saying nothing as Winny runs into Callos’s arms. I wonder if Lavenzia is trying to give us all privacy in our mourning. Herself included.
“I see…” Callos says softly as he strokes Winny’s back. “I sometimes hate being right,” he murmurs.
I walk up to Lavenzia’s side and pat her on the back as well. She doesn’t look at me. I meet Callos’s eyes. “We got the Raven Man—Tersius, the first hunter. He’s dead.”
“Ventos killed him before we could get him to tell us where the curse anchor was!” Winny seethes, spinning to face the grieving man. “Your temper has always held you back! You never know how to rein it in and now we can’t break the curse because of you.”
Ventos flinches, but doesn’t show his face.
“Winny, I don’t think it’s fair to blame Ventos,” Callos says softly.
It makes Winny’s expression crumple and she hides back in the safety of Callos’s shoulder. “Sorry, Ventos,” she mumbles, barely audible.
“Tersius couldn’t have told us where the anchor is, anyway; he wasn’t the one who laid the curse.” I truly believed him when he said as much.
“If not him…then who?” Callos asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit, as painful as it is.
“So, that’s it then…” Callos sighs. In the most outward of affection I’ve ever seen from him, he places a gentle kiss on Winny’s temple. “It’s all right, we did our best. The next lord or lady will accomplish the task.” Callos doesn’t sound convinced of the idea in the slightest.
“It’s not all right,” Lavenzia murmurs. “Every road, every path, every piece of information we ever had led to here, to him, to this. We came so far—farther than anyone else. If the curse wasn’t from him, then who? If not from Hunter’s Hamlet, where? What have we been fighting all this time? Was there even a point of any of it or was it just some forgotten, bitter person who cursed us all because they could, and now we’ll never be free?”
Lavenzia’s voice rises as she speaks. It reaches a pitch that echoes throughout the chapel, deep into the castle, as though it’s a question for all those who came before. Silence is her only reply.
At least until Callos is the one brave enough to respond for all of us. “The point is the same as it’s always been—surviving. Meaning is what you make it. We’ll go to the academy, and we’ll wake the next lord, we’ll pass on all we know. We’ll ultimately rest knowing that we did our best. And with any luck, the next round will do better.”
“Julia,” Ventos whimpers softly. We all pretend we don’t hear.
“We have until the full moon before Quinn wakes the next lord,” I say. “Let’s wait until then.”
“What’s the point?” Lavenzia looks to me with hope in her eyes. I suppose I have been the one who has come up with insane ideas at the last possible second. But I’m all out of improbable schemes.
“I don’t know.” I don’t have an answer that she’s going to be satisfied with and I know it. But I tell her the truth anyway. “I’m not ready to say goodbye yet. I don’t know what the future’s going to hold for me either. I doubt I’ll be here much longer…but I don’t know where I’ll go or what I’ll do next.” I look to Ruvan. He’ll keep me tethered to Midscape for the rest of my mortal days. Am I to wander this earth without a home? Will I try and help the next lord or lady? Or will I return to Hunter’s Hamlet fearing at any moment that someone will learn the truth? Hiding the mark between my collarbones for the rest of my days? “Give me a bit more time, please.”
“I agree with her.” Ventos lifts his head and meets my eyes. He gives me a small nod of understanding. He knows what it’s like to long for someone who’s right in front of you and yet impossibly out of your reach.
