had always refused. She had made any number of excuses, but Rhianna knew the truth, knew that her mother was afraid to be in the castle after dark. There were too many stories of strange goings on at Castle Rayven, too many rumors of ghosts and ghouls prowling the grounds. Each night before she left, Ada made the sign of the cross on Rhianna's brow and admonished her to say her prayers and keep her rosary close at hand.
Tonight was no different. Rhianna stood at the door, the touch of her mother's calloused thumb lingering on her brow as she watched her mother's carriage drive away.
With a sigh, Rhianna closed the door and made her way into the dining room. She sat down at her usual place, smiling at Bevins as he set a plate before her.
Moments later, Rayven entered the room. He kissed her on the forehead, then took his customary seat across from her. A moment later, Bevins placed a decanter and goblet in front of him.
Rhianna glanced at the decanter, at the dark red liquid that shimmered within the crystal. She looked away as Bevins filled the goblet and handed it to Rayven.
Sheep's blood and wine. How had he existed on such a thing for over four hundred years?
She stared at her plate, at the mutton and potatoes and freshly baked bread, and tried to imagine what it would be like if she could never eat solid food again, if she were forced to drink the blood of people or animals to survive.
She thought of all the things she loved - bread and cheese and chocolate. Sunshine, and grass wet with dew. Swimming in the lake on a hot summer day. Working in the gardens with the sun on her back and the scent of freshly dug earth filling her nostrils. Watching children at play... things forever lost to the man sitting across from her.
This was how it would be when they were married, she thought. They would never share a meal, or walk hand in hand in the gardens in the morning when the dew sparkled on the ground. She would never know the wonder of motherhood. She would change her life to conform to his. The moon would become her sun, the night her day.
She was suddenly aware of the silence in the room. She could feel his gaze burning into her. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to meet his eyes.
Pain. Stark, unrelenting pain. And beneath it all, the loneliness of four hundred years. How did he bear it?
He said nothing, only stared at her, and she knew that he had divined her every thought, that he had felt her revulsion, her pity. She could feel the rage that bubbled beneath the surface, his anger, his bitterness.
She felt her heart skip a beat as he lurched to his feet. For a moment, he stared down at her, and then, his cloak whipping around his ankles, he left the room. A moment later, she heard the slam of a door and knew he had left the castle to prowl the gardens, knew that, sooner or later, he would go to the maze. He would sit in the shadow of the wolf and the raven and stare into the darkness that was a part of him. How did anyone survive centuries of darkness?
She sat there a moment and then, slowly, rose to her feet to follow him.
"I wouldn't, miss."
"Bevins, I didn't see you."
"Let him be, Miss Rhianna."
"I can't. He's hurting..."
Bevins nodded. "Aye, miss, but he's used to it long since."
She stared at Bevins as if seeing him for the first time. "All this time, you've known what he is and never told me." And then a new thought occurred to her. "Are you one, too?"
Even as she asked the question, she knew it was impossible. "Does he..." She tried to find a way to phrase it delicately, and found none.
"He has drunk from me in the past, miss, when there was no one and nothing else available."
"Your loyalty runs very deep."
"He saved my life, miss. Could I do less?"
Rhianna glanced at the window. She could see nothing but darkness beyond. Rayven was out there, alone and lonely, and it was her fault. She had driven him away, into the night.
"I must go to him." She was heading for the door as she spoke. "Is he in the maze?"
"No, miss."
"No?" She stopped and turned around. "Has he left the grounds?"