A Violet Fire (Vampires in Avignon #1) - Kelsey Quick Page 0,108

your guardian, by your side at all times for the duration of your life. Tending to the heir is the most honorable of positions given, and the only position I ever wanted. Especially after I met you.”

Again, my reactions disprove my resolve. Castrel still knows exactly what to say to me, even if I still don’t understand this heir thing completely. It was almost enough to sedate the horrific gnawing of my gut inflicted by Zein’s existence. Almost.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice cracking.

“...Don’t cry.” His hands awkwardly rest on my shoulders. “You’ll have to reapply the dust if you do. Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine.” I pull away from him. “It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Zein, and what he did...”

“He’s a demon,” Castrel mutters and his eyes shift to my neck. His lips turn into a crisp frown. Now bare from the strip-down moments before, my neck openly showcases the hardened twin scars. When it’s time to put the mask on, the neck sleeve will cover them, but for now the breadth of their affliction must be a grotesque reminder. For no sane reason I quickly reach up to cover them.

“I’m sorry that he was able to hurt you so much,” Castrel confesses, cutting his gaze to the floor. “I wish I could have been able to stop it all before it even started.”

“It’s nothing,” I respond quietly, glancing at Castrel’s neck and noticing similar, though fresher, wounds. My breath hitches. Zein at least treated his supply units well, but what about Marina? Castrel, now that I think about it, seems awfully thin.

What did he have to go through? Enduring the process of becoming a mistreated supply unit in order to end up here, in Isshar—for my sake? Guilt fills my vision. I surprise myself as the well of emotion spills over, causing me to step forward and embrace Castrel like I used to as a kid.

He returns the affection warily.

“I wasn’t referring to your physical scars,” he whispers, gripping me harder.

And that, I can’t refute. At least he knew the truth all this time, whereas I had to be blindsided—with my heart ripped clean out of my ribs.

I step out of his arms, evading his pity. “I can’t undo the past. I have to focus on moving forward.”

He nods. “And I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

Castrel catches my hand with his. Shockwaves fly up my arm, distracting me from my thoughts. He says nothing to explain the action, not even a sweat drop of shame glistens his forehead. As if it is completely natural. All I can do is idly appreciate the comfort traveling through my fingers, across my shoulders, and finally pooling in my chest. It’s a warmth full of security and nostalgia; of bucolic afternoons outside the cathedral, or lunch on the outlook. All I want to do is push these feelings—along with everything else—away, but right now, it’s better than drowning in the fresh and deepening wounds of Zein’s betrayal.

“Let’s go,” he eventually says, yet refusing to let go of my hand.

chapter 21

Hot and moist air fills my nostrils from behind the mask as Castrel and I make our way down one of the wide staircases of the left tower. So far, we’ve already passed a handful of scribes, dwellers, and soldiers, none of whom gave us a second glance. How surprising that a thin layer of dead vampire remains can erase our scent so well.

“Wait a moment,” Castrel whispers, grabbing my arm and standing still.

As I lift my gaze to question him, a deafening explosion fills my ears. It rattles the floor, causing the sandstone-marble to sway and knock me off balance, but Castrel catches me.

“Right on time,” he says with triumph in his voice. Whatever happened must have been part of the plan.

Several soldiers suddenly bolt from down the halls, all rushing past us to make their way downstairs.

“Hurry, let’s go!” Castrel urges, taking long and impatient strides down the flights, one after another until we finally reach the base floor. The rest of the soldiers file out into the hallway, and we merge in, heading toward a huge door displaying a vast and hopeful ray of moonlight. This must be the entrance to the loading docks.

Thankfully, the pace of the other soldiers is slowed to that of a human’s by stopped-and-staring maids and servants, allowing us to blend in. For the most part anyway. Compared to these vampires, and to Castrel even, I am pretty short. And