Daughter of the Night

Aerrin’s P.O.V.

All I remembered was the earth spinning… A light shining in my eyes… Pain… Murmured voices… Gentle hands… More pain… The rumbling of a car engine…

When I finally awoke, the first thing I noticed was that I couldn’t fully exhale. I recognized the sensation of bandages around my chest almost immediately, more from muscle memory than anything. The pain set in the second I came awake, a slow pounding ache from my right side. The ache was deep, though, and it felt like even my innards were in shambles.

I was in a bed, I could tell that much. My head was backed with soft pillows and there were clean white sheets and a red velvet comforter pulled up to my chin. They smelled like jasmine tea, I thought distantly.

I eyed my surroundings; the hospital ward in the Summer Palace. Figured.

Although memories of how I had gotten here were beyond my grasp, I knew that they would return soon enough. I had to wonder at what exactly I had done this time when I discovered that my hands were literally tied to the bedposts. Clearly, someone didn’t want me getting up. If they were that worried by the thought of me moving around, then my wounds must be severe. Judging from the pain, I had probably almost died from them. Still, I was conscious, which meant that not only was I alive, I was healing. However close I had been to death, the worst of it was over.

I was congratulating myself on surviving yet another visit to death’s door when Lemariastra entered my field of vision, worry and fatigue etched across her face.

“You’re awake,” she breathed, relief coloring her voice. I felt a stab of guilt; I didn’t mean to make her worry. I never did. But in the end, it was always Lem who patched me back together however bad my injuries. Our friendship had blossomed through the years even though she saw how close I came to dying every single day. We both knew that one of these days I wasn’t coming back. And yet she still put in the time to make sure I survived one more mission.

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. Her mouth twisted; she realized what I was getting at.

“This time, it wasn’t all me,” she informed me as she began making the bed next to me, putting on clean white sheets. “If it wasn’t for your vampire friend, you’d have died outside the werewolves’ lair.”

My memory came rushing back to me in a jolt. The werewolves. The duel. Taking that hit, the sensation of half my torso going dead, knowing that I had scarce seconds before the wound began extracting its toll… I had won the duel, I recalled. And I hadn’t had to kill the boy. I breathed a sigh of relief. I had seen too much of myself in him for my own comfort.

“Where’s Wildfire?” I asked.

Lem gave me a disapproving frown. “Safely out of your reach,” she replied brusquely. “This isn’t like your usual collection of scrapes and bruises. Even with your healing rate, it’ll be a week before you’re fully up on your feet again.”

I blinked. “A week? I can’t wait that long! I’ve still got to report to the Queen!”

“Cross made the report for you,” Lem said, watching for my reaction. “An impressive lady, that one.”

“Where is she?” I asked. “What time is it? How long have I been out?”

Lem sighed impatiently. “It’s around five in the evening, so God knows whose cellar Cross is camped out in. She got you here about an hour past midnight, but she told me you had acquired the injury twenty-four hours before.

“How’d she keep me alive that long?”

Lem shrugged. “I didn’t ask. I was rather preoccupied, as you can imagine.”

I grinned sheepishly. I could imagine. Then I frowned. “But she can’t move in the daytime.”

Lem shrugged again. “She’ll tell you when she comes to visit tonight.”

“You think she’s coming?” I asked hopefully.

Lem straightened and turned to look at me. I could fell her disgust, but I didn’t know what I did wrong. She rolled her eyes and finished tucking the bed sheets under the mattress. “Go back to sleep, Summer Knight.”

I was going to contest that order, but as Lem faded from my peripheral vision I realized that my vision was fading, period. I was swept back up into the dark current of sleep, and nothing I could say or do could pull me from the river.

I couldn’t say how long I was out for, but when my eyes opened again the room looked the same except for the shadowy occupant lounging in a chair in the corner. I could feel anxiety and fatigue rolling off the person like tidal waves.

“Cross!” I exclaimed, trying to ignore the way that using my voice increased the throbbing in my side.

She looked up, her red eyes capturing the glow of the fire in the hearth. She was looking breathtaking, as usual. Her hair hung over her shoulder in a silky midnight cascade, emphasizing her perfect pale complexion. Her clothes were black, what a surprise, and she wore the cloak and the gauntlets that Tristan and I had given her.

“Finally,” she muttered. “It took you long enough.”

I attempted to stretch, but my hands were still tied, each to a side of the bed, and I only succeeded in irritating my side even more. “I’m sorry my natural rate of healing is too slow to earn your seal of approval,” I said as I tried to crane my head to see what sort of material my hands were tied with.

“You could at least pretend to act more concerned with the fact that you nearly died,” she snapped.

“What I’m concerned with,” I told her as I shifted in my cot, “is if I get an itch. How the hell am I supposed to scratch it with my hands chained to the bed?” I caught a glimpse of the material; rope with strands of faerie steel. Damn.

I could see one corner of a mouth begin to pull up in a smile before she stamped it out. I could still sense her amusement, however. “Don’t look at me.”

I stopped squirming to give her a lopsided grin. “Is this going to be like when you said you wouldn’t nurse me back to health?”

Her eyes narrowed and it occurred to me that that wasn’t the best topic to bring up. The amusement was replaced with relief, fatigue, and anger. I came to understand that the anger was directed at me. Oh dear.

“I didn’t, for your information,” she said icily.

“Then how did I survive?” I asked, dropping the humor.

She pursed her lips. “I abducted a doctor from the hospital and blackmailed him into taking care of you.”

I couldn’t help it; I threw back my head and laughed, ignoring the way my ribcage felt like it was about to self-destruct. The expression on her face was priceless and only succeeded in making me laugh harder.

“There’s my panther,” I chuckled.

Just as Cross opened her mouth undoubtedly to bite my head off, I heard the hospital ward door swing open and caught the scent of Tristanarium.

“Hey, buddy!” I called over my shoulder. “Could you maybe-“

“No,” Tristan said immediately.

“What? You don’t even know what I was going to ask you!”

“If Cross hasn’t done it already, then it’s probably not in your best interests.”

“But my hands are tied! Literally!”

Tristan squatted to admire the ropes tying my hands to the bedposts before looking up at Cross and grinning. “Was this your idea?”

She smirked back at him. “How’d you guess?”

“This was your idea?” I gasped at Cross. “How could you?! I thought we were friends!”

“We are,” she replied curtly, “which is why I’m not letting you stagger around like a drunken cat. Better if you stay still and heal quietly.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Tristan cut me off.

“It would do no good for the morale of the people if they saw the Summer Knight unable to even walk without assistance after an encounter with a single werewolf,” he said seriously. “Your injuries don’t cast the warriors of the Fae in the best light.”

“That’s too harsh,” Cross interjected immediately, giving Tristan a steely look. “The werewolf he was dueling was a prodigy; the werewolves I’ve fought couldn’t manage a fifth of what that Alpha pulled off.”

I was touched. Defending others was completely out of character for her, so that she made an exception for me was truly heartwarming. It almost made up for the fact that she was the one who chained me to the bed.

“I know that,” Tristan responded. “The rest of the public, however, may not.”

I grimaced. “As ever, your political acumen is uncannily accurate.”

“Of course,” Tristan went on thoughtfully, “it could swing the other way and the werewolf you took on will become infamous among the Fae and the fact that you survived the encounter will make you appear even more legendary.”

“’Even more legendary’?” Cross repeated, skepticism dripping from her voice. “What is he, a walking god?”

I adopted a wounded expression, which wasn’t hard. “Are you implying that I don’t seem godlike to you?”

She looked at me with revulsion, although I could feel her mirth and knew she was amused, however well she hid it. “I’m not implying it, I’m stating it. It’s a fact.”

I rolled my eyes in mock distress. “If my battle with the werewolf didn’t kill me, surely your words will, cruel Mistress!”

“Cut the melodrama,” she responded, clearly unappreciative of my jesting. “If I wanted a soap opera, I’d find a TV.”

I sighed overdramatically. “If words were weapons…”

“Speaking of your battle with the werewolf,” Tristan spoke up, “how exactly did you come to get that injury?”

“Well,” I began, “I was disarmed except for Wildfire, which normally would be fine, except that when I tried to slice off the werewolf’s paw the damn thing regenerated around my sword, so Wildfire got stuck and left me open.”

“No it didn’t,” Tristan said immediately. “I’ve seen you when your sword gets knocked aside.”

Cross had adopted a curious expression and I winced inwardly. I had to smother the urge to stick my tongue out at Tristan. That was simply too childish, even for me.

“Yes it did,” I insisted, knowing that I was fighting a losing battle.

“No,” Tristan said patiently, “it did not.”

“Do you want to tell me how he usually reacts?” Cross asked Tristan, quirking an eyebrow. I laid my head back on the pillow and prayed that Cross wouldn’t try to attack an invalid.

“If his sword gets knocked away, he just goes with the momentum and twists around,” my old friend explained. “He can do it fast enough to bring his sword back around before the opponent can complete their follow-up attack. Aerrin can usually take off an arm, if not a head, with that move. He fakes being off-balance sometimes, just to set up for that maneuver.”

I tried to ignore the way Cross’s face reminded me of a thunderhead, but her slowly building fury was loud and clear.

“So I suppose the question would be why he failed to utilize that trick,” she said slowly. The old phrase if looks could kill ran through my mind.

I looked to Tristan for help, but he didn’t realize the danger he had just put me in. He was merely curious as to my actions and encouraged me to explain myself.

“I didn’t want to kill the boy,” I eventually said. “He meant well, and he was upholding his honor. He showed integrity, intelligence, and a good head for tactics. If I killed him, there was no assurance that the werewolf who replaced him would be as well-rounded.”

Cross exploded. “So you let him land a one-hit kill on you?” she yelled. “You’re saying your thought process went ‘oh, he’s a nice kid, I’ll just let him run me through’? You promised me you wouldn’t let that happen! And you’re the Summer Knight! You can’t break promises, ever!”

The longer she went on her tirade, the more she seemed to grow in stature, until it seemed the hospital ward could barely contain her. Her cape was whipping around, reminding me of a furious cat lashing its tail. I half expected her eyes to shoot laser beams into my skull.

Tristan shot me a sympathetic glance, and I could feel his regret for setting me up.

“Do you know what you put me through?” she went on, her voice climbing in volume until I thought I would go deaf. “Do you even care? I broke so many laws for you that my picture’s getting handed out to SWAT agents! I trespassed, vandalized, kidnapped, stole, bribed, and blackmailed just to keep you alive! And then you tell me that oh, you could have avoided taking the hit, you just didn’t want to kill the werewolf you were fighting in a death match!”

“I really don’t want to discuss this right now,” I said, wishing that if I turned invisible she wouldn’t know where I was.

“Oh, we’re discussing it!” she bellowed at me, her eyes narrowed to slits. “And you’ll be following it up with a very long night of groveling!”

“I’m just going to leave now…” Tristan muttered as he slowly began backing up towards the door.

I managed to make out the sound of footprints over Cross’s voice and the door swung open again before Tristanarium could reach it, revealing the Queen and a host of escorts.

Cross’s face twisted from open fury to simmering rage as she realized that the Queen’s presence meant that our argument would have to wait. I, however, was praising my luck and sending feelings of intense gratitude toward the Queen.

Cross twisted on her heel and stormed out of the room. “You should rethink your choice of Summer Knight,” she said bitterly to the Queen as she passed. “This one does not have the resolve.”

With that, she slammed the huge oak door shut so hard that several cracks appeared in the dark wood.

The room was silent for a few long seconds before Morhiannara calmly folded her hands. “I’m sorry,” she told me primly, “but you’ll have to deal with your relationship issues at another time.”

I gaped at her from my bed. Had the Queen just made a joke? But her emotions were dead serious! But she was implying… Me and Cross?.. What? She must have meant our friendship, I assured myself faintly. She definitely meant our friendship. Because there was no way… I felt my face going hot. Exactly what kinds of rumors were flying around the Summer Palace that even Morhiannara would believe them?

Tristan made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but it quickly turned into a cough when he saw me glaring at him. When I shook my head slowly in a warning, he became spontaneously fascinated with the potted juniper bush next to his foot.

“I have already been informed of your duel,” the queen told me. “The vampiress also told me of the details of the conference. Thank you for completing the mission I set before you; I understand it was not easy.”

It took a lot of self-control to keep myself from snorting in derision. That was a massive understatement.

“It appears that you would have died in the city if not for our ally,” she continued, “and I have already thanked her for her actions, especially because she’s now being hunted by humans as a result them.”

So Cross was being chased by the SWAT. I had thought she was exaggerating. I felt the gnawing sensation of guilt in the pit of my stomach, but I did not regret my actions. It was unfortunate that Cross had found out about my decision, and even more so that she was getting hit so hard for saving me, yet there was nothing I could do. Especially with my hands chained to the bed.

“Lemariastra has informed me of the severity of your wounds,” the Queen went on, “and therefore I command you to rest for this next week. While I find it crude that you are physically bound to the bed-” and here her lips seemed to curve upwards slightly- “it is nevertheless a method that will undoubtedly prove to be efficient, and therefore I support it.”

Damn. I opened my mouth to protest but the words caught in my throat when I saw her tilt her head expectantly.

“Are you planning to contest my orders, Summer Knight?” she asked loftily.

“No, my Queen,” I mumbled miserably. Not only was I not going to see freedom for one hundred and sixty-eight hours, I would have nothing to distract myself from the cold hard fact that I felt like absolute shit. At least when I wasn’t critically injured I could do things on my own time. Now I wouldn’t even be able to eat without assistance. Was I to be spoon-fed, then? The thought was chilling.

“I will require your presence at the Conference of the Wolves, of course,” Morhiannara informed me. “Three days before that, I have scheduled an appointment with the Winter Court. The Winter Queen and I have much to discuss of the alliance. As my Knight, I will need you there. Until then, however, I have no immediate missions lined up for you. After your week of… respite, you’ll have some free time. You must stay local, and report daily, but beyond that you are unoccupied.”

A week of hell followed by a week of bliss. The universe worked in strange ways.

“Has anything else happened that I should know of, my Queen?”

She turned and dismissed her guards with a wave of her hand. Tristan left last, shooting me a thumbs-up for good luck. I didn’t understand how he could act so unprofessional around his warriors and still be so greatly respected as their authority, but he managed.

When Morhiannara turned back to me, her amber eyes were somber. “You almost died. It’s happened before, I know, but you at least managed to stumble home, however bad your condition. And while I was informed of your reasons, and I must thank you for putting your nation before yourself yet again, I must remind you that your own value is higher than you seem to believe.”

I winced. “You heard that conversation?”

“Don’t be a fool, Aerrinaekaiyan,” the Queen said brusquely. “The entire palace heard that dialogue. I’d be shocked if there isn’t a tabloid on the whole debacle within the next twelve hours.”

I would have groaned, but that would have been unsightly before the Summer Queen. I settled for scowling at the ceiling and wishing that the faeries of the Summer Palace had better things to do than eavesdrop on private conversations.

“At any rate,” Morhiannara said, “You must understand that the people need you. You’re a hero to them. While it is the unfortunate truth that your predecessors have had tragically short lifespans, that should in no way encourage you to believe that your life is not valuable. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, my Queen,” I muttered. I was still brooding over the mention of the faerie press. They always managed to take everything out of context. I was almost one hundred percent sure that they were to blame for the rumors of… I felt my face getting red again.

Morhiannara turned to go. I tried to reach out a hand to stop her, but it caught on the chain, straining the muscles in my shoulder. That of course set off a series of painful spasms in my side. I growled softly in the back of my throat before saying “A moment, Majesty.”

The Queen turned back to me.

“My Queen, Cross is growing curious as to the impetus for our nation’s movements against Dracula.”

Her face darkened considerably, and I grimaced internally at the memories I was bringing up. “While she is currently satisfied with the fact that we are staunchly opposed to him, she does want an explanation as to why. I don’t mean to offend, my Queen, but I’m not sure how you would like her to find out.”

Morhiannara’s mouth twisted as if she had bitten into a lemon, and the outright display of emotion was staggering. “I will tell her myself,” the Queen eventually replied, her voice frighteningly flat. Her eyes glinted in the firelight in a way that made me suddenly grateful that she was unarmed. “Is that all, Summer Knight?”

I couldn’t help it; I swallowed. “Yes, my Queen.”

Without another word she turned and left the ward. Her lack of a farewell only emphasized the foul mood she had sunk into. Although Morhiannara was the most powerful manipulator of emotions I had ever encountered among the Fae, the fact that she couldn’t disguise her fury made a statement about the power of her emotions over the memories I had forced her to drudge up.

I sighed. Cross and Morhiannara were now both furious at me. Coincidentally two of the most powerful people I knew. Brilliant. I stared at the ceiling, wishing that my torso didn’t feel like it was burning from the inside, wishing that my hands were free, and above all, wishing that I could simply go back and redo the way this night’s events had played out.

Just when I thought this night couldn’t possibly get any worse, Lemariastra entered the ward with a tray full of questionable vials and medical instruments.

“What are those?” I asked suspiciously.

“Your medicine,” she stated, setting the tray on the nightstand next to my bed.

I stared at her with growing horror. Not only was Lem infamous for her awful concoctions, but she’d be the one pouring them down my throat seeing as nobody thought it was prudent to give me the use of my hands.

“Lem, please, don’t do this to me,” I begged. I’ll admit it; I did beg.

“Are you in pain?” she asked me, her grey eyes flashing.

“I’m fine,” I said sullenly.

“No you’re not, you’re recovering from tears in several major organs and a shattered ribcage. You’re definitely in pain. I don’t suppose you’re hungry?”

Thinking of food made me nauseous. The thought of eating something was incredibly unpleasant because I seriously doubted my stomach was up to digesting anything and I was probably too weak to throw it up. Of course, that meant that the thought of choking down one of Lem’s medicines was downright terrifying. I told her that.

“Man up,” was her cold response as she measured out a quantity into a cup. I tried yanking on the ropes holding my hands in place even though I knew it was useless. There was no getting out of this one.

The concoction was a deep magenta and it smelled like three-week old garbage and smelly feet and rotting cadavers. Needless to say, it tasted a thousand times worse. Lem had to clamp her hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t spit the stuff back up, although I came awfully close.

I eventually coaxed myself into swallowing, but the foul stuff left a horrific aftertaste in my mouth that left my eyes watering.

“You’ve poisoned me,” I managed to choke out, my side aching with renewed vigor after all my writhing.

“Stop fidgeting,” she snapped at me. “If your wounds open up, we’ll have to change your bandages!”

I shrank against my pillows and promised her I’d be good. Changing these bandages was going to take more effort than I was willing to give at the moment.

“Everyone in my life hates me now except for Tristan,” I lamented to the ceiling.

“Cross did seem rather irked when she left,” Lem said, watching me carefully.

“Don’t pretend that you didn’t hear her yelling to the heavens,” I grumbled. “If I wasn’t already crippled she definitely would have attacked me.”

“Ah, yes,” Lem acknowledged. “I did happen to hear some of that conversation. I suppose the question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“About Cross? I can’t do anything seeing as I’m strapped to a gurney. It’s not like I can hunt her down.”

Lem sighed. “She’s taken up residence in the Summer Palace, you know.”

My eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Her little stunt just brought her attention that she’s been avoiding for a long time. It’s not safe for her in the city during the day when she’s defenseless.”

My heart began to hammer. “You mean Dracula?”

“Well I’m sure he’s heard of it by now,” Lemariastra shrugged, “but I’m talking about the Van Helsing Administration.”

“The who?”

She rolled her eyes. “Come now, surely you’ve heard of it. Van Helsing? The Vampire Hunters?”

“There are Vampire Hunters?” I asked faintly.

“I don’t really know much about it, but that’s what Cross told me. So now she’s invested more trust than she really cared to into the Fae.”

“And it’s my fault,” I sighed. I could understand her fury at me. That Alpha had better win the Nobel Prize or something, because the consequences for my actions were really piling up. “I need to talk to her.”

“Right now, you need to give her space,” Lem told me. “And you need to rest.”

I glowered. “How can I when you just gave me a laundry list of things to weigh down my conscience? Guilty people don’t sleep well, Lem!”

She glared at me. “You think Cross is the only one angry with you for being so carefree with your life? You nearly died intentionally. Because you didn’t want to kill one werewolf! How dare you suddenly decide such a thing?”

I felt my stomach sink. Taking the hit had been a huge risk, I knew it then, but I couldn’t bring myself to kill that boy. He was burdened by his mother’s death, and he had been given a huge responsibility in leading his pack in his mother’s stead. He was innocent.

“I’m sorry, Lem,” I said. “I know that won’t fix anything, but he didn’t deserve death. Not over something as petty as misdirected grief. You of all people should understand that.”

She flinched as if I had just punched her in the stomach. I felt even worse than before.

“You don’t deserve death,” she retorted. “Not over something as irrelevant as a few seconds of empathy! But you’ll get it soon enough if you really hold your well-being at such low standards!”

With that she turned and slammed the same door that Cross had slammed earlier. A chunk of wood fell out of the frame. I winced. Things were just getting better and better.