Desolate, Book I of the Immortal Rose Trilogy (29 page)

Blood could have
healed his wounds, yet he did not partake. I inwardly smiled at his
refusal, feeling the bond that has formed between us strengthen.

This morning he came
to me at the crack of dawn. He took the lead as he ran, weaving under
the drooping limbs of aged willows and over rolling hills lush with
new grass.

“Keep up,”
he calls from ahead. I grin and pump my arms, easily matching his
stride as we sprint over one rise and down another. Our surroundings
blur into one giant mess of color as I lean forward and attempt to
take the lead. The high slits in my dress allow me freedom to run
full out, though the volume of my dress still hinders me. I seize the
heavy layers and tear them free, sending them fluttering out behind
me.

Fane laughs as he
ducks out of the way of my dress, and I cheer as I cross over the
imaginary finish line with barely a second’s lead on him. With
my arms tossed out to the sides, I collapse to the ground, gasping
for breath. “That was amazing!”

He sinks down beside
me, looking a little windblown, though hardly as tired as I feel.
“Are you ready to go again?”

“Again?”
I clutch my chest as it rises and falls rapidly. “I cannot.”

“You need to
learn that you do not need to breathe, Roseline. Your mind tells you
that you are wearied, though your true nature is to thrive off
motion. Your muscles are stronger and more than capable of battling
for days without rest if necessary. A short run is hardly enough to
wind you.”

“We have been
sprinting for over an hour,” I gasp between great gulps of air.
“I hardly consider that to be a short run.”

Reaching for a stick
that has fallen from a great spruce, Fane lifts a single finger. As I
watch, he digs his nail deep into its flesh and carves the three-inch
thick branch cleanly in half.

“How did
you…?”

Fane holds out one
half of the stick to me. The wood is smooth where it was cut. “You
must stop limiting yourself to what your human nature tells you. You
are so much more than that now, Roseline. You can sprint faster than
a mountain lion, leap to the top of a tree in a single bound, and
dive to the depths of a lake and spend the night there without taking
a single breath.”

My
mouth opens and closes as I try to think of what to say in response.
Some part of my brain agrees with Fane’s words.
Can
I not feel my own strength? Feel how easily it was to fly across the
castle grounds in the blink of an eye?

“It is hard to
let go,” I finally whisper.

“I know.”
And I know he does. “Though we do not have the luxury of giving
you time to truly believe it. You must choose to accept that you are
capable of accomplishing anything now.”

I look down at the
branch, sliding the smooth fleshy surface across the palm of my hand.
“When will you teach me how to wield a blade?”

Fane’s jaw
goes rigid. “Soon. Once you have mastered the basics.”

It is hard not to
become frustrated with the delay. Surely I will need to know how to
use a sword to survive my hunt, though Fane still seems more intent
on teaching me how to use my surroundings to my benefit. It all seems
to be a waste of the frightening short amount of time I have left.

“Vladimir will
return by nightfall tomorrow.”

My head jerks up.
“How do you know?”

“Lucien
returned ahead of them. I met with him this morning. It would seem
they had a rather… pleasant time on their journey.”

The trembling in my
hands arrives before I can still it. Fane notices and shifts his gaze
away. “I may be called away again for a short time.”

“No!” I
reach out and grab his hand, surprising both of us. I clear my throat
and draw back. “My apologies. It is just that I worry about the
effect this delay may have on my training.”

Fane offers me a
weak smile. “As do I, though it is unavoidable. I go where I am
commanded.”

I wrap my skirts
about my legs as I draw my knees into my chest. It feels good to curl
in upon myself, to feel grounded. I have so many unanswered questions
that I long to ask, though I have held back.

Will Fane mock my
fears? Snigger at my lack of knowledge? Will he treat me as the
others did, with snide remarks and cruel jokes at my expense?

The physical changes
within my body were obvious from the moment I first awoke, yet it is
not those I fear most. It is the inner turmoil I can feel building
within me. At times I find it hard to control my thoughts or urges.
The scent of blood slips beneath the crack in my door and I find
myself drawn to it. This realization leaves me plagued by guilt and I
find at times I do not care.

I feel weaker when
Fane is not near. His confidence in me makes me feel capable of
taking on the world. When he is gone, I retreat within myself again.
I have grown to need him.

I take a deep breath
and exhale slowly, focusing on the way the trees sway in the winds as
I gather my courage. “You say you have accepted what you have
become, though I hardly know what I am. Will you tell me?”

I know he can hear
my heart thumping against my ribs, smell my rising fear, though he
does not acknowledge either of them. He watches me and I realize he
is attempting to gauge the level of trust I have granted him by
asking.

Vladimir and Lucien
would eagerly lie to me, boasting of the amazing feats I am now
capable of. Fane will be honest. He will tell me what I have truly
become. “You are not an animal, though Lucien would claim you
are.” He is silent for a moment before he speaks. “You
have heard the rumors of the Strigoi I presume?”

“They are well
known in my part of the country.”

Rumors began to
spread of a plague spreading across Transylvania some years before.
Not like the plague that brought England to its knees a few years
previously, yet this one was no less dark. Vlad the Impaler became a
legend. Never before had such brutality come to our lands. Children
were sacrificed to their mother’s. Wives to their husbands.

Those were the
original tales, though whispers spread of something far more
sinister… a blood drinker.

“I do not
believe anyone knows the exact age of Vladimir and Lucien. Some say
Vladimir is the oldest. Others contest this. They came from across
Europe many years ago, killing and stealing as they went. They gained
land, titles, and wealth.”

“Why have they
settled here?” A shiver begins at the base of my spine and
slowly trickles upward. Goose bumps rise upon my arms and I brush my
hands over them.

“No one knows
for sure. Some claim he found love here once. Others believe there is
a hidden treasure buried beneath this castle.”

“And you? What
is it that you believe?”

Fane scratches the
edge of his jaw. A light stubble has begun to grow. For the first
time, I notice the shadows beneath his eyes. His cheeks seem slightly
sunken. How long has it been since he last slept or ate?

When he turns to
look at me, I am stilled by the hollowness within his eyes. “I
believe there is something that draws him to this place. He could
have chosen anywhere to live, chosen any wife, yet he chose you and
this place. One might wonder why.”

“Me?” I
clasp my hands in my lap, clenching them tightly together. “What
have I to do with all of this?”

The knowledge that
Lucien chose me as Vladimir’s bride has haunted me for months
now. Though I have wondered, no real answers have been given for my
selection. Now Fane expresses his own suspicions. Why me? Why now?

Fane shakes his
head. “I do not know, though I fear someday we will discover
the truth of it.” I blow out a deep breath, wishing I had not
asked. Fear worms through my stomach, turning the contents rancid. I
feel ill at the thought. “I see things others do not. I hear
whispers when I should not.”

I lean forward.
“Will you speak of these things with me?”

“No.”
His response is immediate and firm. I sit back as rapidly as if I
have been slapped. “There are some things better left a
mystery.”

“And yet you
still seek to protect me?”

A small, weary smile
forms upon the corner of his lip. “Someone has to.”

I fall silent for
several minutes, concentrating on each breath instead of the thoughts
that dash through my mind. I want to press him, to plead with him for
this knowledge, though I fear it would be unwise.

“Will I become
like him? A monster? Will I desire to kill?”

Fane draws one leg
up toward his chest and rests his elbow upon it. The floor of the
shack creaks under his shifting weight. His breathing is slow and
steady, irritatingly controlled. “Only you can answer that
question, Roseline. You have the desire, yes?”

I give a brief nod.
It is true that the urges grow stronger. “I am afraid of it.”

“There is
nothing to fear.” Fane reaches out and takes one of my hands in
his. His touch is warm and gentle as he places his thumb over my
wrist. “Your heart still beats. Your blood still feeds your
veins. You are a living being with a soul. That is all you need to
remember.”

“Am I still
the same girl?” I ask, gently brushing my finger over the
inside of his wrist, feeling it beat in time with my own pulse. Yes,
our hearts beat. We feel alive, yet we are changed.

I have often
wondered if I would forget my life before. Will my memories become
tarnished by this life? Will I forget the times I spent weaving
spring flowers into crowns with my sister or helping knead bread
alongside my mother?

“What do you
know of magic?”

His question
startles me and I draw my hand away from his. “Magic? My mother
told me tales of black magic, of witches and demons.”

Fane nods. He
reaches out his arm and gathers three stones that are scattered along
the edge of the room, covered in thick layers of dust and cast aside
as they fell from someone’s boot. He opens his palms for me to
see. “There are varying forms of magic in our world.”

He rubs his finger
across the surface of a light-colored stone and places it in my
waiting hand. “Some magic can be used for good.”

Next he places a
darker stone beside it. “Sometimes magic can begin with good
intentions, though it becomes tainted.”

“By what?”
I whisper.

“By selfish
desires.” He plucks the final stone from his palm. After he
dusts off his hand on his pants, he raises the stone for me to see.
This one is much darker and crusted with mud. It is veined with black
and roughly shaped. “Sometimes the darkness takes over and it
can no longer be used for good.”

I swallow roughly as
he places the final stone in my hand. “Magic is all around us.
It is a part of us, of nature, of this world. It can be harnessed and
used through a series of spells.”

“Spells?”
I look up from the stones to see him watching me. I blush and set the
stones aside.

“Enchantments
of old. I only know a few.”

My eyes widen with
surprise. “You know magic?”

Fane nods solemnly.
“All immortals are taught.”

“I have not
been.”

“You will.”
He scoots a bit closer, so close our knees nearly touch. “An
enchantment was used on your wedding night. It would have sounded
like a foreign language, gibberish really. Perhaps it sounded like a
song.”

I inhale sharply. “I
remember strange words…”

“Those words,
spoken at the time of your death, are what gave you a new birth.”
Fane closes his eyes for a moment. I can hear that his heart has
begun to pace faster. When he opens his eyes, I sense regret within
them, dulling their beauty. “You will never die, Roseline. It
is a gift and a curse. The world will pass by you and still you will
remain, frozen forever in time.”

“It is
possible to die. You said this hunt will—”

He holds up his
hand. “Death is not an option for you. I will see to it.”

Fane rises swiftly
to his feet and holds out his hand to me. I gather my skirts beneath
me. “Are you ready to resume your training?”

“I believe
so,” I answer with hesitation. My thoughts linger on the new
truths he has shared with me. Much of it I already knew from
Vladimir; others I had guessed, though hearing them spoken by Fane
seems all the more menacing.

“No.”
His grip on my hand tightens. “You must know, Roseline.”
His fingers slide between mine and tightly clasp my hand. “It
is the only way to survive, and survive you must.”

“Why?” I
whisper, caught up in the intensity of his gaze.

He reaches out his
free hand and cups my cheek. “Because I have grown rather fond
of you.”

I run my hands along
my cropped halter, enjoying the feel of leather against my skin. It
is less constricting than my usual corset, freeing me to bend and
twist with ease. My abdomen is bare, revealing the new planes of
muscle for which I have immortality to thank. A black shoulder
harness attaches to the halter with metal brads, covering the top of
my shoulder and only a small portion of my upper arm. The halter
itself is held together by silver metal buckles that tighten along my
chest to fit me to perfection. The leather is shiny and obviously
newly crafted.

A matching skirt has
been fashioned for me as well. Straps of black leather fall from my
waist, weighed down with connecting metal links. A long belt weaves
about my waist and a black harness buckles just above my hips,
allowing ease of access to my swords.

I have two of them
dangling from my waist in a scabbard. They feel heavy and awkward as
I walk. It took a few turns around my room to get a feel for their
balance.

Fane claims this is
the most suitable outfit to wear when training for battle. A gift he
brought back for me when he returned from his travels. They took him
away for nearly half a moon cycle this time, leading me to dip slowly
into despair, sure that something grave had befallen him on the road.