Chapter 40

Nothing hurt.

Which was why Oriel thought he was dead.

His body didn’t ache. His lungs didn’t burn. And most of all, he didn’t feel as if he was on fire from the blood bane he had consumed. Rather, he felt complete bliss as if he found himself suspended in the clouds above Ichor Knell, heaven shining down upon him.

He cracked his eyes open, and to his confusion, he didn’t find himself suspended in a pillow of dark clouds, but rather lying on a soft bed. He blinked a few times to adjust to his surroundings.

A bed. A soft pillow. A table full of medical supplies. A dim room with muted candlelight. This was a recovery room in the infirmary.

His hand flew to his mouth, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he found his fangs. The gums around them were tender. Still, the surgery had worked.

Zachariah had really done it.

“Thank the stars,” he muttered under his breath. A whole realm of possibilities suddenly opened up. He wouldn’t die—his health climbed as the seconds ticked by. He had a mate and child he wouldn’t have to leave. He would even be able to have more children with Cosette and expand their family as the years passed. He would be able to provide for them and care for them. And he wouldn’t have to leave.

He needed to thank Zachariah. And Adam. And Dracula. And Willow. The list went on.

He pulled the sheets away from him but stopped short when something caught his eye—a shell sat on the table beside the bed.

A soft smile pulled on his lips as he cupped the shell in his hands, inhaling Cosette’s sweet lavender scent. The shell was perfectly preserved, a symbol of undying love.

She had really kept it all this time? His heart prickled with emotion. Back then, he’d had no idea she would become his mate more than two hundred years later. And now…

He was the luckiest vampire alive.

With ears not quite so clogged with cotton, he heard footsteps approaching his door from just outside. He didn’t know why he panicked, but he clutched the shell in his hands and lay back in the bed, closing his eyes to feign sleep. Only moments later, the door opened, and he heard a sigh—one that belonged to Nicolae.

“Still asleep,” Nicolae said quietly as he entered the room and closed the door behind him. “It’s been two whole weeks. I’m starting to worry.”

Two weeks?

Nicolae sat in a chair beside the bed and said nothing. For a moment, he thought Nicolae might be able to see through his feigned sleep, but to his relief, he realized it wasn’t the case.

“You look a lot like your mother,” Nicolae said almost as if to himself, a trace of sadness in his voice. “She had long blonde curls, and as she grew older, she grew more beautiful. Much like Laurel. Madeleine was my last child, a miracle baby before my mate was killed. I had hoped for so much for her. But alas, tragedy also befell her.”

Oriel held his breath. Nicolae rarely spoke of their mother. He always closed up every time someone mentioned her name.

Nicolae continued. “I readily welcomed your father into the family when Madeleine chose him as her mate. I cared for him. Treated him like my own son. Which was likely why his betrayal hurt so much.”

His grandfather let out another deep sigh. “There is something I have never told you, and I feel guilty for keeping it from you. Perhaps telling you when you are asleep will ease my conscience.”

It was all he could do to keep still and continue feigning sleep.

“Your mother and father wanted different things. Madeleine wanted to stay in Ichor Knell. Siemon wanted to experience the outside world. That was why he left you, your mother, and Laurel behind, and it seemed as if he might never return. When your mother killed herself…” His voice caught on those words. “Siemon was heartbroken. He returned to Ichor Knell and begged me to let him keep you and Laurel. I…I was furious. I sent him away and told him if he ever returned, I would kill him myself.”

Oriel’s mind spun at Nicolae’s confession. He was shocked. Stunned. He had never known his father had returned for him and Laurel. All this time, he had thought his father hadn’t wanted them; abandoned them. It had destroyed Laurel, to the point where choosing a mate of her own had been a fear of hers, a near-nonexistent possibility. But all this time, he was alive? And Nicolae had kept it from them?

He couldn’t stop the bitter words from sluggishly escaping his mouth. “How could you?”

Nicolae inhaled a quick breath of surprise. “Oh dear. I thought you were asleep.”

“You sent my father away?” He clenched his jaw but then winced at the pain. “You lied to me. You lied to Laurel.” He opened his eyes to find Nicolae’s guilt staring back at him. “I hate my father for what happened to my mother. I blame him. But…he’s my father. It shouldn’t be your choice whether Laurel and I want to let him back into our lives.”

“You’re right.” Nicolae’s shoulders sagged as if his secret had weighed him down for years. “But she was my daughter. You will soon realize with Leif that he will become your whole world. You will do anything to protect him. If your future daughter-in-law left him and his two children behind, what would you have done?”

He swallowed against his emotions and looked away. Leif was quickly becoming an important piece of his heart, and although he easily forgave, the feat would likely be more difficult if someone hurt Leif. Although he was upset with his grandfather for keeping such a crucial secret, he found he couldn’t fault him for it.

“Where is he?” he asked huskily. “Tell me where my father is.”

“Are you sure you want to know? That door is closed, and if you open it again, it won’t be an easy path.”

He nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Very well.” Nicolae stood, pacing slowly from one end of the small recovery room to the other, his arms folded behind his back. “He lives as a fisherman off the Cragspire Coast. As of six months ago, he still lived there. But I warn you, Oriel. You might not like what you find. He is a hollow vampire of what he once was. The father you remember no longer exists.”

But he still lived. All this time, he’d had no idea of the fate of his father. But now he knew.

“Thank you for telling me the truth.” He grimaced as his jaw ached with the effort of speaking. “I know it’s not easy for you.”

Nicolae shook his head. “It certainly isn’t. But now you’re awake… Allow me to fetch Zachariah. He would like to know you are conscious.”

“No,” he said as he turned his legs to the side, delighted when they obeyed him after so long of refusing. “I have been in this bed for far too long. I will fetch him myself.”

“Are you sure you are feeling up to it—”

“Stop worrying, Grandfather.” He tested his weight on his legs, relieved when he didn’t collapse. Having strength again felt wonderful. He took one step. And then another. Although Nicolae hovered over him as if ready to catch him should he fall, he didn’t need his aid.

He exited the stuffy recovery room, another wave of relief washing over him when his body worked correctly. The air entered his lungs with ease, leaving behind no trace of pain. Sweat didn’t linger on his brow with the simplest of exertion, and he couldn’t lie—he felt wonderful.

While Zachariah visited with a patient in Doctor Enache’s absence, Oriel waited by the window and gazed at the flurry of activity below. Carriages drove past on the cobblestone streets. Dark clouds swirled overhead, blocking out the sunlight. A trio of females laughed on the palace steps.

An ache of longing rushed through him as he thought of Cosette, her shell still clutched tight in his palm. He needed to see her, to hold her, to kiss her.

Soon. Very soon.

“You’re awake!” a voice said from behind him, and he turned to find Zachariah with wide, disbelieving eyes. “And breathing. And standing. Come in here. I need to do another examination.”

Zachariah led him into an empty room, not bothering to hide his excitement as he pulled out his equipment. His eyes sparked with enthusiasm. He bounced in his chair as he pulled out a slim wooden stick. And his gaze kept darting back to Oriel as if he couldn’t believe he was there.

Oriel opened his mouth to tease his brother-in-law, but the moment he did, Zachariah shoved the wooden stick down his throat, making him gag.

“Excellent…” Zachariah murmured as he shifted the stick from one side of his mouth to the other. “No sign of the blood fever. Tell me if this hurts.”

Unexpectedly, Zachariah touched the wooden stick to the spot where his gums concealed his fangs, and he hissed as pain shot through his mouth.

“Also excellent,” Zachariah commented before inspecting each of Oriel’s hands and flipped them over to expose his palms. “Your body took your fangs back, and because of it, you have been able to heal from the ailments associated with the blood fever. Sprout your fangs for me.”

“What?” It was the last thing he wanted to do, as his mouth still felt incredibly tender.

Zachariah tapped the stick against his cheek. “Sprout your fangs. It will hurt for a while, but I believe you need to exercise your fangs as you would need to exercise your arm if you received an iron wound. It will help your mouth heal correctly.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. You have to remember this has been the only successful attempt to save a vampire after getting defanged. Anything from this point onward is a mystery.”

He grimaced at the thought of sprouting his fangs. Pain pulsed through his mouth even when he tried to talk. Still, he trusted Zach.

Taking a deep breath to ready himself, he waited a moment before he sprouted his fangs. A wail of pain escaped him. Fire seared his mouth, but it only lasted a few moments before the pain dulled into a light pulse. Happiness filled him as he touched one of his fangs and then the other. The surgery had worked.

What a relief.

“They feel steady,” Zachariah said as he lightly tugged on each fang. “Can you produce venom?”

At first, the venom wouldn’t come, but after several moments of intense focus, a yellowish liquid dripped from his fangs.

“Very good.” A bright smile filled up every inch of Zachariah’s face from his shining eyes to his joyful mouth—a stark contrast from his seriousness only before the surgery. “Can you transform?”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Do it anyway.”

The fact that Zachariah didn’t coddle him made him chuckle. As exhausting as it sounded, he knew why his brother-in-law pushed him. Finding out if he was healing was important.

The power of transformation shifted inside him, no longer out of reach. He tapped into the power and groaned at the accompanying pain, almost as if exercising a sore muscle. Like sprouting his fangs, transforming wasn’t easy either. The transformation ripped across his body, splitting his insides, but his determination pushed him harder. He desperately grasped the power within himself and pulled. Seconds felt like minutes as his body protested but finally obeyed as he shrank down into his swallow form, his nose turning into a beak, his arms into wings, and a tail fanning out behind him.

Thank the stars.

“Very good,” Zachariah said again, his smile more radiant than ever. “Now try to materialize.”

He gave him a dubious, rebuffing look. Not a chance. Transforming had been excruciating enough, but he had done it. It was possible, which meant his body was on the mend. Losing one’s fangs could kill a vampire, but it was no longer a death sentence. Together, Zachariah and Adam had found a way to save him. He owed them his life.

He hopped onto the windowsill and gazed out. To feel the breath of wind on his wings again… He longed for it more than he could possibly express.

“I will visit your estate tomorrow.” Zachariah opened the window for him. “In the meantime, if anything goes wrong, send for me immediately. But if I’m not mistaken, I believe you have a mate and a child who are very worried for your well-being.”

No longer able to bear his restlessness, he leaped from the sill and spread his wings, taking to the skies. The wind rushed through his feathers—something he hadn’t been able to enjoy for weeks now.

Elation spread through him as he climbed higher and higher, darting past trees and homes and cutting easily through the skies. He had taken flying for granted but swore he never would again. He was alive. He was flying. And he was on the mend.

Cosette, I’m coming for you. And I’m here to stay.