Page 104 of Veradel
I follow his line of sight, and crash into a familiar pair of eyes.
Eleni.
When I speed across the room to her in a vampiric flash, Soren follows.
“Hey.” I try to gently take the sheet out of her strong grip as she bends over the mangled corpse of a civilian, her chest heaving. “You’ve seen enough horror in this place. You don’t have to do this.”
Crouching down beside her, I take in the sight of her. She has dried blood caked into the lines of her face and sweat beading on her forehead,right beneath her bangs. A handprint-sized bruise mottles her neck—but it looks like she held her own regardless.
And despite how exhausted she must be, Eleni fights me with a firm shake of her head, but I uncurl her fingers and gather her into a hug. The sigh she lets out loosens her whole body.
“Have you ever been outside of this palace?” I ask. A question I should have asked her long ago.
Eleni pulls back, tears welling in her eyes when she gives me another shake of her head, this time more somber.
“Do you have a family?”
Her jaw drops as she sucks in a gasp. Maybe her sibling or a parent she hasn’t seen in years. Maybe even a child.
I squeeze her and glance up at Soren, who’s watching the interaction with an expression that gives the distinct impression he’d like to murder the Guardians all over again, his eyes on her mouth—realizing that she can’t speak. “There’s a town just beyond the… woods out there.” Refusing to say ‘Wall,’ I cock my head in the direction of Veradel. “If you want to leave this city and never come back, I think there would be a place for you there.”
Soren nods with more fervor than I could have imagined. “I can turn any of those old houses into your own damn castle, if you’d like. And I’m really good at catching rabbits and shit if… if you get hungry,” he finishes weakly.
He grimaces, probably expecting Eleni to sob harder…
But instead, shelaughs.
And maybe the Guardians took almost everything away from her—maybe their deaths can’t bring back the life she could have had—but there’s a glimmer of hope in that laugh. Like the sound of new bells ringing for the first time. I have no doubt that she’ll be able to rebuild herself outside of these walls with people who will actually treat her like she deserves.
When Eleni finally nods, I successfully remove the sheet from her hand and nudge her away. “I’ve got this. Go wherever you want to go. You don’t need to be here another second.”
Eleni rises, but just as she turns, I scramble to my feet to wrap her in one last hug. “Thank you,” I say. “Thank you for taking care of me and helping me.”
She hugs me back, and with a turn of her heel and a curious glance at Soren, she’s gone. I give him a look, my eyebrows tilting, and he shoves my shoulder.
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t say a word,” I hum.
“You didn’t have to. I know you’re thinking I should stay away from her.”
“Why?” I smile. “Because you’re a Monster?”
For once, Soren doesn’t pull a sarcastic remark out of his sleeve, so I turn to face him fully.
“Eleni was born in a true monster’s lair and never had the chance to see what the skies look like beyond it. You are the opposite of everything she’d had to learn to fear. And by giving her a home where she can be free, you’d be giving her a future she never thought she’d have. Just like Lucan gave that to me.”
For a half-second, I let my gaze cut to the far end of the throne room, where Lucan himself trudges back in with soot smearing his face, the Guardians’ bodies officially gone. His muscles bulge beneath his tattered shirt, his hair disheveled, his hands bloodstained…
And I’ve never seen a more hopeful future. Every atom in my body relaxes in his presence, like the Monster is truly what gives me comfort, security, and that sense of home.
“Well, if you insist…” Soren says finally, a smile tipping his mouth, “then I guess I’ll go help her pack.”
“You do that. Although I don’t know where her sleeping quarters are loc—”
“No need,” Soren interrupts firmly and taps his nose. “Remember? We werewolves have a much better sense of smell than you, vampire. I can track her down.”
Surprisingly, him calling me a vampire no longer sounds like an insult. It just is. Because it’s our choices that matter so much more than what lurks in our blood.
