THE MEMORIAL TO honor Niko and Delia is as grand and gorgeous as we knew it would be. The kingdom spares no expense, and Dorian allows it, wanting only the best to lay his family to rest. Their ashes are presented in large, ornate urns. Otherworldlings from around the globe come to pay their respects, kneeling at the vases and presenting gifts to the deceased. They sing songs of an afterlife with the Divine. They dance jovially as they celebrate their lives. And when mourning has depleted their strength, they have a great feast.
“How are you?” Dorian asks, sliding his palm against mine. He’d been worried about any anxiety I would feel about coming back here, but honestly, I’m fine. There’s no place I’d rather be than with the people I love.
“Good,” I reply. And I may mean it.
I smile as Morgan approaches, Lars glued to her side. After everything that’s happened, she’s not ready to go back home to Colorado Springs, and the blonde Light warrior has vowed to follow her wherever she goes. He’s fallen for her…hard. I understand why. Morgan is just way too easy to love.
She kisses both my cheeks before moving to hug Dorian, drawing dozens of shocked and curious eyes. It is forbidden to even approach the throne, let alone embrace the king. But this is Dorian. And when you’ve lost more relatives than you have left in the span of a few days, you show love to the people that matter to you. Civilities be damned.
As it stands, Dorian has not yet officially taken the throne. He isn’t ready to, and I don’t blame him. There’s so much hurt attached to that title, for him and every supernatural creature on earth. They know change is coming—they can feel it. And the fact that he’s opened up the kingdom for all—Light, Dark, vampires, werewolves, humans—is inspiring hope.
Hope.
That’s all we have. And maybe, it’s all we need.
Alexander emerges from the crowd and makes his way up the steps where we’re stationed in the banquet hall. He greets us all warmly, also feeling the need to be more open and affectionate. When he wraps his arms around me, I hold on a little longer. I’m not ready to let go of my dad. I may not ever be. And now that we have a second shot at a relationship, I don’t want to spend a single second of this life without him knowing how much he means to me.
I’ve lost parts of who I was in the past few weeks. Small, yet painful bits like Jared and my old friends in Colorado, as well as larger, essential limbs like Donna, Chris and Niko. But I have Morgan, and now Lars, to replace those parts and hold me up again. Alex is here to fill the empty space left behind from losing my parents. And I have my heart—the most necessary piece of me—I have Dorian.
Tired of sitting still, I suggest we make our way into the crowd and socialize, something that’s unheard of for the king. But Dorian happily obliges, taking my hand to lead me into the festivities. Flanked by Morgan, Lars and Alex, we smile, shake hands, and embrace people. When we see Denny Nox, the five of us instantly surround him with love and heartfelt words. He lost too. A friend and a lover. But his friendship and bravery will not go unnoticed, by his people, or by his new king.
“Denny,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’m so sorry. But…thank you. Thank you for everything. What you did that day—bringing people here and ensuring the safety of those innocent humans—was nothing short of a miracle. But how did you know? How could you have known our plans?”
Denny smiles, but the warmth in the gesture doesn’t touch his eyes. “Niko. He called me, telling me what your intentions were, but he didn’t ask for help. He just thought I should be here just in case Delia…” His voice breaks, and he looks down. Dorian rests a hand on his shoulder, telling him it’s ok. No need to say anymore.
Niko wanted him here to rescue Delia. If things turned ugly, he wanted someone there for her. It was risky—seeing as Delia had changed so drastically since marrying Stavros. Part of her soul had been corrupted as well, but her heart was the same. And it still knew Daneus Deleazó.
We all embrace him once more before moving on to allow him to handle his grief in private. Dorian told him that he is welcome to any room in the palace for as long as he wishes. He also offers the same to the rest of our friends. I hope they all accept the invitation.
When we see Cyrus sitting at a table, still bruised and bandaged, my heart sinks into my gut. He had been bed-ridden when we were attacked at Niko’s mansion. He wanted to attend the wedding, but his body was still on the mend. Yet, nothing but death could have kept him from his cousin’s memorial service.
Dorian pulls him in for a hug, holding the giant, 6 foot 6 inch vampire to him with such ferocity that it has to physically hurt. Still, neither pulls away for several minutes. They’re family. And Niko… Niko was the glue that kept them together. Cyrus had served the younger Skotos for decades, both as his close confidant and personal guard. He was never made to feel less than worthy of their family. Niko saw to that.
“I want you by my side when I take the throne,” Dorian tells him when he pulls away.
Cyrus bows his head. “It would be an honor to serve you, sire.”
“No.” Dorian claps a hand on the larger man’s shoulder. “Not as my servant. I want you on my personal counsel.”
Cyrus is flabbergasted, his red eyes darting from me to Dorian, waiting for the punch line. “I don’t understand. Your personal counsel? What would the other seven families say?”
“Well. They will say nothing other than to express their congratulations if they want to remain at court.” Dorian takes a deep breath and steps forward so that Cyrus can see the truth in his stare. “You are my family, Cyrus. Therefore, you will walk beside me. Not behind me. I need you, cousin.”
The vampire grunts out a cough, no doubt feeling a knot in his throat. Dorian pats him on the back.
“You think about it and get back to me when you can.”
Cyrus bows his head once again. And as we turn away, I catch a glimpse of a single, red drop of blood sliding down his face.
“That was sweet of you,” I whisper to Dorian as he threads his fingers through mine. “He needed that.”
“We both did,” he replies. “And I meant it. Cyrus is fiercely loyal, as well as intelligent. He always has been. And while I know he loathes what he is, I’m not sorry for saving him. And if I could’ve done the same…”
I squeeze his hand, and pause mid-step, prompting him to turn around to face me. “You did all that you could, and I am proud of you. And you know he is somewhere up there, looking down at you and feeling that same sense of pride. He loved you, Dorian. He admired you. And he would not have wanted to live the rest of his days as anything other than your younger brother. We have to let him go, baby. This is what he wanted. To find peace.”
Dorian leans forward and kisses my forehead to hide the flash of pain on his face. But he knows I’m right. Niko would have hated being turned. That wouldn’t have been a life for him.
We’ve resumed our advance into the crowd when someone grasps my hand. I think it’s Morgan behind me, trying to get my attention, but I find that it’s a tiny elderly lady sitting at one of the banquet tables. Her hair is the color of freshly fallen snow, and stops at her waist. She wears a long, brown robe that looks like burlap. And her eyes…her eyes are opaque.
“Excuse me,” I say politely, leaning forward. “Are you alright?”
The woman doesn’t meet my gaze, yet she peers at the connection of our conjoined hands, her wrinkled face focused in wonder. “You burn, child. There is holy fire within you.”
“She’s blind,” Alex murmurs from over my shoulder. “The oracles are always blind. Yet, they see.”
“I’m sorry,” I say to the woman who still hasn’t let go of my hand. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No. No help required, child. For I am here to help you. You see, there is life within the fire. You need not be afraid, for it is good. And strong.” And just as quickly as she grasped my hand, her palms are on my abdomen—boney, pale fingers against the silk of my dress. “Yes, good indeed. A fighter. Yet, there is compassion within the tiny heart. And love.”
She lifts her chin and aligns her eyes with mine as if she can see right through me. See right into the depths of my soul. “It loves you, child,” she rasps, before turning those haunted eyes on Dorian. “And you, its father.”
I gasp aloud and take a step back, placing my trembling fingers against my lips. “But…but that’s impossible. I’m cursed. I…I can’t…” I look to Dorian who is as white as a sheet, his own gaze wide with bewilderment.
The old woman smiles, revealing more gums than teeth. “The life you have lost lives within you. It stays with you now.” Then as if she were in a trance, she shudders, blinks a few times and turns back around to her meal.
I can’t think. I can’t feel. I just keep trembling, as a thousand emotions flood my body at max speed. This can’t be right. It just…it can’t be.
Dorian slowly comes to my side and pulls me against him. Then with his own shaky hand, he gently touches my belly, so softly and lovingly, as if he were holding a heart in his palm. I look up at him with tear-filled eyes to find that he’s smiling. Beaming with love and pride. And hope.
Then the unthinkable happens.
He laughs.
Dorian laughs so heartily that the entire room pauses to watch him. Tears spring at the crease of his jovial, blue eyes as he releases days, weeks, months, years of repressed emotion. I stare at him in awe, absorbing the feel of his hand against my womb and the pure joy pouring out of him. Feeling like everything will finally be ok.
A photographer asks to capture the rare moment, and we happily oblige. I wave our friends over, and Morgan, Lars and Alex squeeze in with us. Cocooning us with love.
I think back to that photo on my nightstand, channeling the chaotic bliss that my mother must’ve felt that day—the fear of the unknown coupled with the sheer joy at sharing her life with the people she loved. She knew what she was embarking on was crazy and dangerous, but she did it anyway. Because love was worth it. To her, I was worth it.
“Ok, now smile,” the photographer says.
And the five of us do just that. Because right now, we can be impossibly happy. We can find triumph in the destruction. We may make mistakes and stumble and fall. But we know that someone is always right there, lending a hand to pull us right back up. We may not know what lies on the other side of forever, but for now, that’s ok. We’re content with being here. Right here in this moment.
That’s the magic of life. Those times that make all the heartbreak seem bearable. They may be few and far between, but we know that morning always comes after night. Because where there is darkness, there will always be light.
My life was a beautiful tragedy.
But this isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.