Elana inhaled the fresh scent of the dandelions in the field where she sat.
She hadn't heard Azael's voice at breakfast.
Cara said he hadn't been at the table either.
It had been two days since she hit him. She had asked the minions to take her to him but they hadn't. Not a word of explanation.
"Hi, sweet pie." Zane's voice drifted gently across the air.
"Zane!" Relief flooded her chest.
Cara had mentioned he'd been recovering all this time, unable to move much with his ankle injured.
"I'm glad you're ok," she said with a smile.
He settled beside her with a grunt, "Glad to be ok. You look beautiful as always."
Her heart fluttered. She wished Azael would ever say something like that. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought.
"I'm sorry about that night, Zane." She murmured, fingers nervously thugging at her dress.
"You don't have to apologize, sweet pie." His voice dipped with quiet determination. "I'll get you out of this place soon enough, even if we have to sneak away."
"He's not a bad person, Zane," Elana said softly. "He's only ever meant well toward me."
"He almost killed you that night," Zane shot back, tight with disbelief. "How can you still defend him?"
"It wasn't him. It was a dream. I'd know…"
"But I saw him, Elana."
"It didn't feel like him," she said gently, trying to make sense of the tug in her chest.
"He's not good for you, Elana. He's a tyrant, he's not…human."
Elana sighed. Zane didn't know Azael as she did. And then, unbidden, the memory of Azael's kiss swept all over her—her body betraying her with a subtle, aching craving.
"Can I hold your hand?" Zane's soft voice cut through her thoughts.
Elana blinked in surprise, smiling faintly. "I'm okay, Zane."
"You never learn, do you?" Cara's voice intercepted them.
Zane scoffed. "Where's Caesar?"
"I don't care, really," Cara replied, irritation in her tone.
"He should be careful around that woman," Zane added. "Considering she's Azael's."
The acknowledgment of Eira as Azael's tugged sharply at Elana's heart more than she should care to admit to herself.
A thought struck her. Perhaps she could speak to Eira—maybe even apologize through her.
"Cara?" she called softly.
"Yes, flower," Cara replied.
"Is Eira around? I'd like to ask for her help with something."
Cara scoffed. "I can help you out if there's anything you need, flower. That Eira is just a polite bitch."
Elana frowned. "What's a bitch?"
Zane chuckled before Cara could respond. "Speak of the devil."
"Hello, Elana," Eira's sweet, feminine voice chimed in. No wonder Azael was drawn to her. She could never compare.
"Hi Eira," she said, smiling through the tension in the air now that Eira was here, but her curiosity pushed her anyway to ask.
"I've been meaning to talk to Lord Azael. Do you have an idea where he is?" Elana asked.
"Oh dear," Eira replied, bright and teasing, "he forgot to come outside. He's always like that when he's with me. But what is it you wanted to tell him?"
Elana's heart twisted with envy, he'd been with Eira all this time.
She swallowed, her fists clenching slightly.
"Funny, he doesn't seem to parade with you much," Cara said to Eira. "Almost not at all."
"What? You want us to fuck in the hallway?" Eira answered, her voice still sarcastically sweet.
"I want to apologize to him." Elana cut in, gentle but firm.
"Don't worry," Eira said, sassy and confident. "He's forgotten all about that cheap banter. I made him forget."
"It's not that," Elana murmured, fiddling nervously with her dress. Maybe if she told them, they'd advise her… maybe Eira might even plead her case.
"What is it then, Elana?" Cara asked gently.
"I…I hit him," she whispered, wishing the ground would swallow her.
"You what?!" Eira gasped, shock thick in her tone.
The tension in the air was thick enough to cut through.
Cara chuckled softly. "You hit Azael?"
Elana nodded slowly, wishing more than anything that she could read their expressions in the heavy silence that followed.
**
Syrus observed from the swirl the wisterian vines that climbed the castle walls, tracing all the way from the balcony where he had last seen the vampire and the blind girl kissing.
Now that the ancient was away from the castle, it was his chance to explore inside for any important clues or weaknesses.
The wisteria vines led him to another room—darker than the balcony room.
The smoke swirl glided in, taking in the broad expanse of space.
A king-sized bed with a canopy draped in black silk sheets, pillows arranged with deliberate precision.
Ancient incantations were carved into the walls—some he recognized.
An isolated door stood a few feet beside the bed, surrounded by even more carvings. Promising. Whatever was inside, he needed to be fast.
He had not been able to witness the rest of the scene outside the spiritual cast because he couldn't risk being locked out.
He had waited two days with no sign of the vampire before daring to search the interior.
He drifted deeper inside. Flames burned without flicker. His swirl passed through one—nothing. Not even a stir.
Incantation markings stretched across both walls, leading down toward a brown, gold-embroidered coffin.
Sealed tight.
A major discovery. He couldn't waste this chance.
Syrus pulled out his paper and began scribbling every incantation down to study later.
**
Fen groaned as the tree witch worked on his half-burnt body.
He hadn't imagined Azael still had that much power left.
Fen gritted his teeth as glowing vines pressed into his wounds.
If not for his wolves, he would've died.
And the fact that Azael hadn't stayed to finish off the rest of his pack confirmed it—-Fen had been right about the limits to Azael's power.
Azael wasn't as invincible against lycans as he was with humans.
In that case, he'd turn more men into lycans to strengthen his defenses against Azael.
"Smart," the tree witch whispered near his ear. "Remember, all their human essence will belong to me. You can own their bodies…But I will have their souls."
"Yes, mistress," Fen rasped. Her vines were merciless. The healing hurt worse than the injuries themselves.