Page 56 of The Vampire Castle in the Sky

“Answer me!”

Fiercely, he seized me by the arms. “Is this a joke? Does it amuse you to pretend that you don’t know? Am I funny to you?”

His face fell in alignment with mine, making it impossible not to breathe the same air as him. Still, I could turn my face away. I could twist my arms out of his hold, and he would let me. Instead, I raised my chin, narrowing the space between us. “Know what?”

“If you came to me with a face I’ve never seen and a voice I’ve never heard, I would still know you,” he said. “I would know the sound of your heart, your footsteps on the stairs, the way your breath catches when you gaze at a sunset. I would know all the words that make you laugh and all the ones that make you cry. I would know your every secret agony, your every dark desire. To say that I don’t know you would be the same as saying that I don’t know myself.”

There was a hot ache in my throat. My voice sounded like air passing through reeds when I managed to reclaim it. “Then why did you forget me?”

“I never—”

“Yes, you did! Every day I went to the post office hoping for a word from you, to at least tell me where in the world you were soIcould send you a letter. But you didn’t even grant me that. You just disappeared. I was scared and alone, and you weren’t there. You act now as if you care a great deal about me, but you abandoned me when I needed you the most. You never asked your parents about me. You didn’t even bother to learn if I got married. Honestly, Hector, I doubt I ever crossed your mind.”

“Crossed my mind?” he hissed, his eyes flashing. “Every day is a struggle to get you out of my head.”

“Then why didn’t you write to me?”

“I wrote to you! I wrote to you every day for four years!” he roared, pushing off me to rampage through the room.

He tore open every drawer and cabinet, throwing out heaps and heaps of notepapers. Some were sealed inside envelopes. Some were folded down the middle. Some were left open, their edges torn or creased. Letters. Hundreds of them twirled in the air like a whirlwind of lanterns before scattering all across the bed and floor in a cream-colored haze.

One of them got caught at the hem of my nightdress, and I stared at it numbly, breathlessly. My mind was blank, my thoughts displaced. I was nothing but pulse and sickened hope.

I barely felt my body move as I bent to take the fragile piece of paper between my fingers. Tremulously, I unfolded it. It had a faint floral scent and was cluttered with Hector’s neat calligraphy.

Thea, it read,Happy birthday!

I can’t believe we’re twenty already. Remember how a slow afternoon used to feel like a year? Now time flies by so fast it frightens me. Twenty always sounded very mature in my head, but here it is, and I still feel like a little kid. I have no idea what I’m doing or who I’m supposed to be. That’s why I’ve been traveling so much. I’m still trying to figure it out.

I haven’t seen my parents in a while. I know they visit you often, but they never tell me about you. They’re trying to force me to reach out, you see. ‘If you want to know what Thea is doing, then write to her. Go see her, for gods’ sake. Let your precious pride take a blow, for once,’ they keep grumbling every time I hear from them, which I’m sad to say is not very often, for I tend not to stay in one place for too long.

Anyway, I came to Kartha to watch the harvest moon like we always did. It’s huge this year and so orange it verges on red. I wish you could see it. I know this is your favorite festival of the year.

I’m staying at an inn in town, and the whole place smells of cardamom and woodsmoke, and from my window I can see the festival’s lanterns glow like tiny suns as they drift into the sky. Below, the trees are shedding their orange leaves. The nights have grown longer, too. Cozier. For some reason, autumn always reminds me of you.

Margaret says we should pack our bags, march into Thaloria, and steal you away. She’s here, of course. Arawn too. They didn’t want to leave me alone on my birthday, but, in truth, I feel more alone with them here. They’re so happy, so wonderfully in love, it’s like they’re in their own universe, speaking their own secret language. Do you remember how we used to be like that too? Not in love, obviously, but the way we would talk and talk for hours, and whenever someone asked about the words that passed between us, we were ever unable to articulate them.

Sometimes, I wonder, what do you talk about with him? Do you tell him about us? Do you tell him about me? I don’t think I could ever explain myself to someone without talking about you.

I should have cherished these moments more. I should have told you how I really felt. Now I’m terrified to know. What if I reach out and find out that you’re miserable? What if I find out that you’re happier than ever?

I’m the one who told you to go, but do you know what these words cost me?

I wish I were brave enough to tell you.

The stillness in my chest shattered. Now it was all activity and hum, like bees at spring’s bloom. I tried to form words, but it was impossible. The rushing in my throat was made of love too old and inward to express. “Hector… I…”

He shoved the hair from his forehead, releasing a tremendous breath. “I couldn’t send them. I couldn’t pretend. I couldn’t tell you that I was happy for you and Jasper. I couldn’t act as if I hadn’t spent every day of every year thinking of you, longing for you,” he said, his voice quieter now, beseeching. “From the moment we met, you’ve beenhauntingme. And I want you all the more for it.”

The very air turned electric. It hurt too much to take it in my lungs. Everything hurt. Because that longing, that infinite, all-consuming ache he talked about, I felt it too. My entire being was filled with waiting. I waited for the press of his body on mine. I waited for his hands in my hair. I waited for his kiss, for his lips to swallow the distance.

Finally, he backed me against the wall, his hands bracketing each side of my face. His chin tilted down, his mouth drawing nearer. Nearer. And just as I readied myself for his lips, his face caved into the crook of my neck. “What are you doing to me?” he murmured, his hot breath dampening the skin of my throat. “I came here to ask you to leave the Castle, and now I’m…” He pressed closer, his knee wedging between my thighs, stirring something unfamiliar inside me—dark, voluptuous, intoxicating. “I should be able to let you go, shouldn’t I? Love is supposed to be selfless. Perhaps Arawn is right. Perhaps this is obsession.”

There was more pain in these words than I could bear. I could not believe I’d spent four years thinking he had unlearned the shape of my soul, that this version of me was some kind of mystery to him. Nothing about me was new to him, for Hector had always known of the woman I would become. Time and timeagain he’d told me of her. And if this was not love, then I didn’t want to be loved. I just wanted to be his.

I wanted to tell him all of this, but I had already seen this moment happen, and the uncanny sense of repetition trapped me inside my mind. Earlier, in the drawing room, I’d seen myself expelling the poison from my body, and then I’d seen Hector pressing me up against this very wall, right before sinking his fangs into my neck.

“Do you want to bite me, Hector?” I asked, my pulse jumping between excitement and terror.

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