Chapter: After the hunt
Riven
Rea helped me back to my chambers. I hadn't asked ...she insisted and I didn't refuse. My body was a map of bruises and aches; her hands were steady as she guided me inside.
When she tried to unlock the door, she frowned. "It's already open," she said, eyes flat with concern. She didn't pity me—Rea never did—but she knew how hard what I had to do would be. Breaking up with Aisha wasn't a cruelty I wanted to carry alone. Aisha had been mine for years; she still kept the only spare key to my room.
"I'll leave you here," Rea said, voice clipped. "And don't delay...tell her the truth."
I nodded. She left, and I sighed once before pushing the door closed. The pain throbbed with each breath. Healing would take time.
Aisha stood by the window, staring out into the dark where the marketplace used to be. The lamplight cut her profile in half; the room felt fragile and taut, like a bowstring waiting to snap.
"Hey," I said, forcing my voice soft as I approached.
She turned. "Hey," she answered, but her tone was thin. Then she noticed my hand at my chest and moved before I could stop her. "You're hurt."
"It's nothing," I lied as she peeled off my coat.
"Shh." She hushed me like I was a child, already reaching for the aid box. In minutes she returned, breathless, and started removing my shirt to inspect the bruises.
Moving me to my bed her hands were practiced, moving with the small rituals we'd shared for years. She dabbed a sponge in medicine and began to clean the worst of it.
She always panicked for me, even though she knew sometimes the shadows could heal me. I watched her worry—tiny, steady movements...and felt a swell of guilt in my chest.
When I was four, my mother told me the truth about my blood. She sat me on her lap and explained why my hair wasn't red like the rest of the clan: I was half Bloodbound and half Shadowcraft. My father had been a witch; my mother a hunter. They had fallen in love, dangerous and impossible. He had been a high-ranking witch once, but hate between our kinds had strangled them. The night he tried to reach my mother, he was killed before he could arrive. My mother went into labor alone by the North Shore River—the place was beautiful then: birds, clear sky, sunlight turning her hair to fire. She was scared, proud, and happy. But grief followed. The council stained our name; whispers crawled in corners. My mother died when I was five, and in the hunters' clan, trust is thin when your blood is different.
Aisha had been there through all of it. We grew up together, lovers from our teenage years into our late twenties. How do I tell her that what we dreamed might be a lie? Her father already despised me. Telling him I'd broken his daughter's heart would be enough to get me torn apart.
"Thank you," I said as she finished cleaning and sat beside me.
"You must be exhausted," she murmured, worrying at a loose thread on my sleeve. "Father said you were sent with the fresh hunters after that rogue who killed one of our own."
"I'm tired," I admitted. "But a bath and rest will fix most of it."
"A bath," she repeated, smiling the small smile that always calmed me. Then her face sobered. "Riven?"
"Yes?"
She took both my hands, voice smaller than a whisper. "I love you. Promise me you won't break my heart."
The world narrowed. Her eyes searched mine, bright and honest. I swallowed. The truth lodged in my throat like a stone.
"I wouldn't," I said, the lie slick and cold.
"Why would you say that?" I asked, needing to hear her voice again.
"Because I'm afraid," she said simply. "Afraid I'll lose you to someone else. Afraid the world will take you the way it takes everything fragile."
My chest ached. How do I tell her that the scar on my skin had burned for a stranger? That destiny had pressed a claim I hadn't asked for? How do I tell her that the person my body recognized was a vampire—an heir, maybe a prince—and that the council would tear me apart for killing, for loving, for living between two worlds?
I let her hands fall from mine and stared at the ceiling, where the shadows felt like fingers reaching in.
"This is a mess," I said at last. "I don't know how to say what needs saying."
Aisha squeezed my hand once, hard enough to remind me she was real, present. "We'll manage," she said, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
Outside, the night moved on, indifferent...rivers running, owls calling. Inside, we sat together on the bed, both of us knowing that nothing would be the same in the morning.
And somewhere beyond the trees, a council would learn that my mark had burned. The shadow of consequence was already lengthening.