Seeds of Sorrow (Immortal Realms Book 1)

“No! You’re a monster!” Eden screamed, legs still thrashing violently against him. “Please, just send me home,” she wheezed between frantic breaths.

“Enough!” he bellowed, giving her a little shake that seemed to finally snap her out of her frenzied attempt to be free of him. Now her body hung limp in his arms while she panted. He could feel her trembling with either fear or revulsion—he couldn’t be sure which. “I will let you down if you promise not to run.” She should not have seen it, and it was his fault she had. Draven should have said no when she’d insisted she come along, but a foolish part of him had been pleased at a show of interest in his land. No matter how small.

A grunt was the only response that he was given. Choosing to take that as compliance, he set Eden back down on her feet and carefully unfurled his arms from around her. The moment she was free, Eden jerked away, spinning around to face him with an accusatory glint in her eye.

“You are every bit as despicable as they say you are,” she spat at him.

Draven sighed, realizing what the scene in the cottage must have looked like to her, how it must still look. His hand smeared with the lamia’s blood and the remnants of it across her own dress. Years of being called a monster should have dulled his senses to the disgust gleaming in her eyes, but unfortunately, Draven still found himself vulnerable to the pricks of fear and loathing aimed his way. Some things even three millennia of existence could not ward against.

“Perhaps,” he replied simply. “But life is different here.”

The look she gave him was almost feral. “Truly different! Your brothers don’t go on day trips to kill females just for the fun of it. They aren’t monsters.”

“Monsters?” He finally snapped, her words striking too close to home for his comfort. “The true monster was that creature in there.” His bloodied hand lifted to point back toward the cottage behind them. “Lamia feed on the hearts of other living creatures, but they prefer the heart of a child most of all.” Draven stepped closer to her, looming over her small frame as he growled his words. “That female, as you call her, has been terrorizing the villages nearest here. Seven were-children have gone missing, stolen from their beds . . . grabbed while they were out playing . . . only to be found by family and friends later with their chests torn open.”

Draven could see the blood draining from her face as he spoke, but still he continued, pleased in this moment to see her horror directed somewhere else. If she wanted to scream monster, he could tell her all about the ones that truly resided here.

“Here in Andhera, we believe in the punishment fitting the crime. She took the hearts of children to feed upon, so I took her heart for my wolves.” He snarled, then turned from her, trying to rein in his fury. Noticing that Ailith had followed more slowly behind them, he pointed at her. “Inside, there are two human children. She must have crossed over into Midniva sometime in the last week. Go calm them, find out where they are from, and work on getting them returned to their homes at once.”

Eden was visibly shaking when he turned back to her. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, avoiding his eyes.

“And you . . . When I tell you to stay in the carriage, I mean stay in the carriage.” He fought to keep the growl out of his voice but wasn’t certain it was working. “There are things you simply don’t need to see.”

“Well, you’ve shown me none of it! So how am I to know?!” she snapped back, arms still coiled around herself.

Sighing, Draven smoothed his hand wearily over his face. He had given her every opportunity to explore his kingdom, but not with him. Seeing as how she couldn’t look him in the eyes most days, he had thought his absence would be a relief. “Come, let’s head back to the carriage.” He waited for her to step up beside him, then began the trek back to where the rest of their party waited.

 He strode over to the side of the house, where a small hand pump was positioned. Cranking the lever, he soon had a spray of water that he used to wash his hand clean of what remained of the blood. Drying it off on his cape, Draven turned to his men.

“Eden and I are going into the village proper. We’ll be at Matilde’s. Lock up the lamia’s cottage, see the children dealt with, and dispose of the body as you see fit.”

Channon nodded his gray head, then made a soft wuffling noise to the other wolves. As one, they moved, seeing to his orders. Ailith was already leading two small children out of the cottage, both looking terrified yet hopeful as she soothed them.

“Come,” he murmured to Eden. “If you wish to see something of Andhera that is not filled with horrors . . . follow me.”

He waited to see if she would come with him. After a moment of contemplation, she nodded and fell into step beside him. She kept her distance, however, making certain that no part of them, even down to the flutter of a cape or brush of a skirt, came into contact.

“I’m sorry . . . for misreading the situation,” she said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

Draven remained quiet for a moment, pondering his response before finally saying, “I will admit that I am a merciless king when I feel it is warranted. But I try to always be fair, and here, in a land where so many are bloodthirsty, the threat of death is the fine line that stands between whether the creatures obey my commands or not.”

They fell silent once more, making their way farther into Primis, the first village that had been established in Andhera when the fae and humans had first traveled over. This had been the outpost for all those seeking their wealth in the darkest realm. Now it was a village like any other, home to a number of were-families, as well as vampires, a couple of trolls, and Matilde’s house.

Walking through the streets, the lamps weren’t lit yet, as the yellow day moon still cast enough light that those who were used to it could see perfectly well. For Eden, Draven was certain it was a daunting experience to travel always in the darkness.

Passing a number of homes and a few small shops, Draven stopped as they came upon a small two-story home. Made of stone, it sat nestled by a stream that traveled below a small wooden bridge leading to the other side of the village. There was a large tree in the front yard, one with dark red leaves and burgundy flowers that let off a soft floral scent. Hanging from one of the large branches was a rope swing, and on the rope swing, a little girl with golden hair swung listlessly.

“This is Matilde’s,” he said in a hushed tone to Eden. “The children here are all revenants. Children are often too confused at the loss of life to pass on to the afterlife, so we try to find them fitting homes with adult revenants who will give them the chance to live out life as they please until they’re ready. This is just one of many such homes in Andhera.”

Eden’s eyes were wide and uncertain. Perhaps this was not the happiest of places when one first considered the need for it, but the children here tended to be full of life and joy as they lived their new unlives.

Draven left Eden where she stood and made his way across the lawn toward the tree. As his boots crunched lightly on the rough sod, the blond-headed girl lifted her head. At once, her eyes began to shine with joy and a smile lit her face.

“Drae!” she called out.

With a chuckle, he dropped to one knee before her, one hand reaching up to grasp onto the rope of her swing. “Hello, Abilyn. Why are you out here all alone?”

“Rudyard is being unfair and won’t allow me to play with him and the others.”

Draven tsked and shook his head. “Well, that just shall not stand.” Holding his hands out to her, he allowed the young revenant to glide into his arms. Standing up, he balanced the wee spirit on his hip. “Children!” he bellowed, a smirk on his face.

Abilyn’s arms circled his neck as she nestled in happily, and as the other revenant children filed out of the house, she grinned proudly from her perch in his arms. The others cheered as they spotted him, rushing over to encircle him, hands tugging at his sleeve or shirt, others calling out questions. Why had he been gone so long? Did he bring them any presents? Was he here to play?

“Shh shh shh,” he said, holding up a hand. “So, it has been brought to my attention that a certain someone has been excluding Abilyn from today’s play.”

Rudyard, the culprit, had the decency to look ashamed before puffing out his chest and attempting to defend himself. “Buuut she—”

“Nuh nuh nuh,” Draven tutted. “I’ll hear no excuses.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Matilde, a dark-complected revenant, come to stand in the doorway, her body leaning against it as she watched him and the children. “I declare Abilyn honorary princess for the rest of the day, so she must be included in all of the games.”

There was a general groan from a number of the boys, but the small spirit in his arms gave out a happy cheer. Around these parts, ‘Drae’s’ word was law, and honored beyond all else.

“Now . . . I’ve brought a special guest with me today,” he explained and glanced over at Eden, who was watching them all with a wide-eyed stare. He waved to her, encouraging her to come forward. “This is Eden—she is a little shy. It’s her first time visiting Primis. Do you think you can show her around?” he asked them.

Always interested in a new playmate, the kids were soon converging around Eden, pestering her with even more questions than they had him. Abilyn pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, which surprised and pleased him, then she disappeared out of his arms to reappear next to Eden.

As he watched them together, Draven felt a presence at his side and turned to see Matilde beside him.

“So I see the rumors are true. A new mistress does reside at Aasha.”

“She is a guest who has come to stay for a brief time,” he murmured, his hands moving to clasp behind his back.

“One whom you thought to bring here to the children?” Matilde gave him a pointed look.

“I only wished for her to see that even in the dark sadness of this realm, there is light and happiness too,” he argued.

“Mmmhmm,” was Matilde’s only response.

Draven didn’t appreciate the insinuation that there was more to his actions today than what he had said. He was well aware that Eden was not long for this land. At the end of the six months, she would be going back to Lucem, no matter what anyone had to say on the matter. He had no intention of getting used to her presence in his halls. While the world may think Eden was his, Draven could not be more aware of the truth. Eden wanted no part of his life here and would be only too pleased to return home when the time came.

By this point, the children had dragged Eden down to the stream to show off the fire lizards that skimmed across its surface. Their excited voices and the ring of their laughter was a welcome break from the brutality earlier today. Being both judge and executioner was not a role that became any easier as time went on, but Draven had accepted it. Especially if it meant fewer children would wind up here, living out this unlife, even as happy as Matilde could make it.

“Eden,” he called out. “It’s time to head back.”

There was a chorus of groans from the children, their disappointment obvious. He gave them all a patient look, hiding a smirk of amusement as Eden drew them all back his way, a child’s hand in each of hers. There was a swell of emotion in his chest that Draven chose not to read too much into or even acknowledge.

“Do you have to go?”

“Please stay!”

“Can Eden come back??”

Draven found himself chuckling once more at the chorus of questions flung his way. His eyes lifted to take in Eden’s expression. While she was not pulling away from the children, he didn’t want to promise anything on her behalf.

“I must get Eden back to the castle in time for her evening meal, but I promise not to stay away so long next time.” He nodded to Matilde, then waited for Eden to join him at his side before he returned to the street. The children followed, gliding along behind them until they reached the edge of the lawn, then they merely waved happily goodbye, calling out a series of farewells as the two of them walked away.

They didn’t speak for some time, until Eden broke the silence between them. “Those lizards . . . I’ve never seen anything quite like them. Although they do remind me of the ones back home. My friend Aurelie’s little brother Tamas liked to find them and put them in my hair.”

An almost nervous laugh slipped out of her as she spoke, and Draven found himself looking over at her, uncertain of what to say in return. Small talk had never been his special gift. Fortunately, Eden continued.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. Truly sorry. I should not have lost my temper with you like I did . . . ” She bit at her lip before continuing. “I believe I understand Andhera a little better now. Thank you for taking the time to bring me there.”

Draven nodded a little, mulling over her words. “I understand your upset over what you saw, but thank you.” He glanced at her, wondering if she truly meant it or if she were only trying to appease him. “Andhera is a place of much loss, and much death, but even in the darkest corners, there are rays of light if there are souls willing to feed it.”

Silence fell between them again as they continued their walk back to the carriage. Ailith and the children were gone, as well as two of the wolves, and Draven could only assume they were already on their way back to Midniva. Channon and the remaining four wolves waited patiently for them.

“Let’s be off,” he told his wolf guard, helping Eden up into the carriage. They were soon heading back toward the capital city, and Draven tried not to notice the way Eden was plastered to her side of the carriage.

Blessedly, the return trip was uneventful, something Draven sent up a brief prayer of thanks to the moon for. He didn’t think he had the patience for one more episode he had to explain away to Eden. It also left Draven with time to consider Eden’s safety once more. While she seemed placated for the time being, he couldn’t be certain something else wouldn’t happen to cause her to flee. If there was even the slightest chance her fear and haste could land her on her own in the wilds of Andhera, she was going to need to know how to defend herself.

Perhaps some lessons from his wolf guard were in order. Eden should at least know how to handle an opponent in a fight, and while her life of luxury in Lucem had not called for it, in Andhera, even children knew how to properly hold a knife.

Their silence lasted until they were through the gates of the castle, and once a young were-panther had taken Rayvnin and the carriage from him, Draven led Eden inside.

“I was thinking that I would join you for your evening meal. If you will have me,” Draven murmured to her. She could not be blamed entirely for her behavior today, not when he had distanced himself so much from her. After her words earlier, he had started to wonder if his absence had made things worse rather than better.

“I would li—”

“Draven! You’re home!” a voice called out, cutting off Eden’s response.

Draven’s eyes narrowed, and he drew in a slow breath, watching the vampiress glide down the hall toward them. Lady Mynata Perfidiae, the daughter of one of the founding families of Andhera, was a beautiful woman of caramel skin and dark brown hair. She possessed a face that could look as innocent as a kitten but hid the soul of a viper. Draven had witnessed far too many people fall into that trap to do so himself.

“Mynata,” he said dryly.

Without hesitation, she stepped forward to drape her slender arms around his neck, leaning in for a hug that spoke of familiarity and comfort. Out of a sense of obligation, Draven gave her a single-armed hug before prying her figure off of his.

 In the early years, when Mynata’s family had first settled in Andhera and she had found herself making the transformation from fae to vampire, Draven had acted as a source of information and comfort, aiding the young woman and her family where he could. But what had come from a sense of patriarchal responsibility had been received in another manner by Mynata.

“Lady Mynata, this is Lady Eden of Lucem. She is my guest here in the castle,” he stated.

Eden stood watching them with an uncertain look on her face. “Hello . . . ” she murmured, eyeing the other woman.

“Lady Eden, such a pleasure,” Mynata cooed in a sultry voice, her arm slipping through Draven’s.

“You’ll have to excuse us, I was just escorting Eden in for supper.”

“Oh, I haven’t fed either. Why don’t I—”

“Not tonight,” Draven cut her off. He was quick to detangle himself from Mynata’s clutches. “Have a good evening, Mynata.” With that, he moved up to Eden and, offering her his arm, took her down the corridor to the dining room.

The revenants had been expecting them, or perhaps it had been Seurat, for the dining table was already set with Eden’s evening meal. Taking her to her seat, he drew the chair out for her and waited until she was upon it before pushing it back in.

“Bridine,” he spoke out to the room at large. When the revenant who typically monitored the dungeons downstairs appeared, he requested his own meal. “Fetch me a goblet of blood, please.”

Once Bridine disappeared, Draven took his seat at the other end of the dining table. Dropping down into the chair, he sighed wearily. Today had been more troublesome than he had anticipated, and he could only hope that things settled down for the foreseeable future.

“So . . . you truly do not eat then,” Eden said, her own fork and knife in hand.

“No, I do not eat.” Bridine appeared at his side once more, a silver goblet in her grasp. Taking it from her, he thanked the spirit before sipping from it, happy to find that the blood was fresh from the vein and still warm. “Those who come to Andhera find themselves transformed by the natural essence of the land. I was the first to find my hunger for food replaced by a thirst for blood. There have been other fae since who found the same transformation took them over. Others, such as Channon’s human ancestors, became were-animals. Andhera affects everyone differently.”

“So, even me?” Her words were soft, filled with apprehension, and perhaps fear.

“If you stay long enough, yes. Even you.”