A Violet Fire (Vampires in Avignon #1) - Kelsey Quick Page 0,79

on my shoulder, toward Zein.

“Th-thank you. I’m so…” I’m shaking so bad I can barely speak. “...thank you.”

“Some psychological trauma,” Ceti assures as she strokes my head lightly. “That’s it.”

Zein relaxes somewhat but makes no move, his eyes return to their mysterious gray and appear to be lost in a sea I can’t even begin to navigate.

“My lord,” Ceti says, “perhaps, to keep your treasured supply unit safe, you should start ridding the castle of any more potential issues.”

Zein approaches, cutting my thoughts short. I drop the knife.

“As far as I know, she’s the only one,” he replies, motioning for Ceti to get out of the way while curiously eyeing my feeble weapon.

“She was a gift from Giomar, was she not?” Ceti asks, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment. “When you were first appointed?”

He solemnly nods. “I should have taken her true allegiance into harsher consideration, especially in these times of political unrest.”

Zein kneels down to my level, although he is still fearsomely tall. The silver fronds of his hair sway in front of his ivory jawline as he analyzes me, focusing on my cheek.

“Are you sure you are all right?”

“Yes, it’s just a cut. My head kind of hurts. But I’m okay.”

Zein rises to his feet and holds out his arm. “Can you stand?”

I reluctantly grab his hand and allow him to help me up. He pulls on my arm and my feet fumble beneath me until they plant firmly on the sandstone floor. “I think I can manage,” I say.

“Good. Come with me.”

“Thank you, Madam Ceti.” I whisper to her as I pass, leaving her standing concerned in the hallway.

Everything grows quiet save the echoes of our joint footsteps, mine having fallen in time with his. Reel after reel of burning images fill every empty port of my mind. Blood spewing out of every orifice of Seriesa, of her tanned skin turning unnaturally violaceous and green from the unstoppable bruising. The fact that Zein is the one who did something so vile. How many others have succumbed to the same fate? A harnessing chill makes its way down my arms, the hairs along them standing from terror.

When he turns his face slightly to study me with his peripherals, I fight down my emotions, including the burrowing fear. No doubt my scent is fluctuating uneasily with everything I am thinking, and I don’t want Zein to ask me about it. The sandstone hallways give way to marble once we are out from underground. Rows of tiles display individual lines, each of them weaving and cascading across beige and silver tones. I allow them to command my focus even though they have no value. It’s all I can do to not think about death, blood, and the very raw essence that is me and everyone else in this world. Every living thing is so fragile, a series of busted blood vessels away from eternal darkness. Everything aside from things like Zein. For once it’s obvious where I am in comparison to him, to Giomar—to vampires. I am nothing. Humans are nothing.

We ascend the intricate staircase in the middle of the grand hall, the one I’ve grown used to seeing up until a couple months ago. Uneasy nostalgia trickles through my mind. I kind of missed it—him. I wonder if he did, too.

We reach the end of the large hallway where the guards wait, restless, outside Zein’s doors. They open them while staring at me, their eyes distrusting and full of bloodlust. I must be quite the attraction right now, given the open wound on my cheek.

The pitch-black darkness of the room welcomes us until the hanging lanterns alight dimly from above. After the doors shut, Zein positions me in front of him—mere centimeters away—his face so close to mine that his breath sends goosebumps along my cheek. While I stand frozen with shock, he secures an arument bandage over my wound.

“What happened?” he asks, studying me. I’m scared to admit that I haven’t been wearing the Laisse proudly, but I do anyway.

“Anaya found out about the Laisse chain when Seriesa announced it. Of course, she didn’t like that.”

He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I will handle Anaya.”

I nod and look away. It becomes quiet between us, like neither one of us wants to tackle the monster subject Seriesa would bring up.

“Did Seriesa say anything to you? Before I stopped her?” he asks. I’m grateful that he brought it up, because it would be nice to