He shook his head slowly. “But she never came. The moment I saw the gown draped over the altar, her pendant set beside it… I knew. And still, I waited. Hours, days—because some part of me refused to believe she wouldn’t return.”
He exhaled, long and low. “I never thought I would see it worn again.”
His gaze found mine. I didn’t know if the ache in my chest was mine or his, only that it felt unbearably heavy to carry in silence.
“You honor her,” he said at last, bowing his head.
From the folds of his cloak, he pulled something small, delicately cupped in his palm.
“I’ve carried this every day since…” His voice wavered. “Since she left.”
He stepped forward and held it out. A pendant—silver, worn smooth by time. A crescent moon pierced by a downward dagger, bright red, jeweled sangre miel flowers winding around the blade in full bloom.
Eryndis’s mark.
“For your hair,” he said, voice softer now. “If you’ll allow me.”
I nodded, unable to speak.
With gentle fingers, he lifted the pendant and tucked itgently above my braid, fastening it where Lysara had pinned the crown of flowers. His hands lingered, then fell away.
“I would like to attend the ball,” he said, stepping back, a thread of composure stitched into his voice again. “And if it isn’t too bold… would you do me the honor of a dance?”
My breath caught. A hundred things rose in my chest. Questions, memories, gratitude—and a grief that felt older than me. Not entirely mine, but carried all the same.
But when I looked at him, I saw none of those things reflected back. Only the echo of a vow he’d once sworn.
I reached for his hand. If Kaelith wanted me to play a role, then this would be mine. Not a pawn. Not a bride. Something more. Something chosen.
“Yes,” I said softly. “I would be honored.”
26
Malachi
The guards stationedat the square’s edge straightened as I approached. They were young—too young to have known the rebellion firsthand. But they knew me.
“Malachi,” one said, fist to chest.
“At ease,” I replied.
He nodded, a grin tugging at his mouth as the others murmured greetings.
“You’ll be at the ball tonight?” another asked, eyes wide with something between excitement and awe.
“That is the plan,” I said. “Try not to set the perimeter—or the square—on fire while I’m away.”
They laughed—easy, genuine. That part, at least, had changed.
There was a time they flinched when I passed. A time when even my own soldiers whispered of blood rituals and vanished shadows. Vampyres were feared. Especially me—one of the last purebloods, trained by Eryndis herself before the Purge nearly wiped us out.
“I heard there’s a woman here,” one of the younger guards said, leaning in with exaggerated secrecy. “Traveled all the way from Synnex. Alone through the woods, at that. Didn’t even use the trade route. Right senseless, innit?”
Another elbowed him. “I heard she’s pretty. The kind of pretty that smiles right before slipping a dagger between your ribs.”
“I heard she’s already warming Kaelith’s bed,” the last added, waggling his brows with a grin far too smug.
The laughter was immediate.