Why? I’d given her an apple. . . was that only yesterday? Was it yesterday? Rorrick said humans eat more often, but once a dayshould have been sufficient, right? Looking down at her body, I realize that can’t be the case, not if she’s losing weight. Even as I stare at her, her stomach grumbles loudly, begging for food. She doesn’t even stir.
We’d fed from her. Fuck, we’d fed from her while she’s not eating enough. Suddenly, her little stumbles in court make sense. Her exhaustion had been heavy on her eyes, but we’d had no choice but to parade her around. She’d fallen asleep on the chaise not because it was more comfortable, but because she didn’t have the strength to move.
Panic strikes me. We’re not feeding her enough.
“Fuck,” I hiss, running a hand through my hair. “Where the fuck do we find food for a human?”
I’d had to go all the way to the border just to find that apple.
And why hadn’t she told us? I look down at her sleeping form, at the way her lips part, and realize she would have never told us to begin with. Not when her death looms on the horizon. She probably assumed she’s dying anyway so it doesn’t matter.
But it matters to me. It shouldn’t, but it fucking does.
I don’t give a fuck what Christian thinks. We can’t let her die. She’s not his.
She belongs tous. And she needs to feed.
TWENTY-TWO
Crymson
My last remnantsof strength fail me the moment Christian leaves the room. The bravado I’d felt when he’d kissed me disappears almost immediately and I deflate as fast as he disappears. The bed behind me looks so inviting, but I know I won’t make it over there. My limbs feel too heavy, too weak. I should have never let them feed on me when I haven’t eaten anything. There’s no way I can make it to tomorrow as I am.
Maybe I’ll die right here, on this opulent chaise lounge, none the wiser. Wouldn’t that be a great big fuck you to the King? I’ll be the Promise he couldn’t keep. A bittersweet smile tilts my lips. I almost want that. If not for the thought of the three vampires I’ve quickly started to care for.
At some point, I’m aware of being moved, but it’s a brief moment. I don’t know who picks me up. All I know is that I’m laid within the plush comfort of the bed, the covers eventually pulled over me. The moment my head hits the pillow, I’m aware of nothing else. Only exhaustion. Only heaviness.
Only darkness.
***
This dream feels different than the last ones. The beach is back, clearly something I yearn for. There’s nothing quite as relaxing as the feeling of your feet digging into the sand, the water lapping over them. I don’t waste time walking along the beach. Even in my dream, the exhaustion wears on me and I find myself needing to sit down. I make it three steps before I give up, too far from the water to feel it rush over my skin. Sadness makes my chest ache as I dig my fingers into the soft, dry sand in longing.
I can’t. . . I can’t. . . I can’t. . .
“You’re growing weaker,” a voice says, the deep timber echoing around me. “They’ve not procured you food.”
“No,” I answer honestly, slumping further. I can’t even turn to look at him, whoever he is. I have no idea if he’s friend or foe. I only know I’ve never met him and yet it feels as if I have. He’s a part of me. Whoever he is, he’s important, but I can’t say why.
I can feel his anger, the palpable emotion thick in the air. “This is no way to treat a valuable trade,” he hisses.
I laugh, but the sound is hollow. “It doesn’t matter,” I rasp, my hair hanging around my face. I want to cry, but I can’t even get up the strength for that. I’m so fucking weak. “I’ll be dead soon.”
His presence grows closer, and the moment I feel him behind me, I realize he’s not the only one. There are two people here, two people watching, though I’m not sure how I know that since the second person hasn’t spoken. I don’t lift my head. I can’t. I’m barely holding onto coherence as it is. Even within sleep, I’ve lost all strength.
“You will not die today,” the voice growls.
“Tomorrow,” I answer on a sigh. “I die tomorrow.”
“No, little brightness,” the voice says, angry. “You will fight.”
“For what? If the options are starve to death or be drained by the king, I’ll take starvation,” I wheeze. “Now, shh. I’m trying to sleep.”
The second presence moves, looms over me, throws me into shadow. I try my best to look up, but my neck refuses to move. Part of it is a tired feeling and part of it feels impossible. Like a sort of force is keeping me from seeing the strangers. My body declines the invitation, so I have to be content with knowing they’re there without seeing them.
“Do not pretend you are some meek, pathetic little girl,” the second says.
“You can be strong for just a little bit longer,” the first demands.
