The Damned (The Beautiful #2)(48)

“Are you not welcomed there, as one of their own?” Valeria asks.

Arjun frowns before responding. “I can’t pretend I was ever welcomed among my mother’s kind. They . . . tolerate ethereals because we are the only mixed bloods that retain immortality, as a result of being the offspring of pureblooded fey gentry and human pairings. In the Vale, many of us become playthings of the court. It is a life not unlike that of halflings in the mortal realm, who often seek out the protection of a vampire or a wolf or a warlock in order to stay alive.” He takes a deep breath. “It is not the kind of life I would wish on anyone I loved. Which is why I will never have children of my own.”

Valeria tsks. “At least you have the choice to sire children. At least your heart still beats in your chest.” She sighs. “To me, these are the cruelest punishments placed on blood drinkers. That the heart of a vampire no longer beats. That the only way they can create more of their kind is to take the life of another.” Her words fade to silence as she ladles stock over the wilting vegetables.

These are matters I have never considered. There was never a time in my mortal life where I pondered having children of my own. Such concerns are not pressing to most eighteen-year-old boys of my acquaintance. Now that it is no longer an option . . . I don’t know whether it is something I would have wanted.

I say nothing while Arjun studies me sidelong. I can sense his apprehension. His worry that I will be angry with him for refusing to take me to the Vale. Perhaps he thinks I will continue behaving like my uncle, tossing threats at any perceived problem.

He is right about one thing. I am angry. I am always angry. But my anger is not with him.

And Arjun is not the only ethereal in existence.

Valeria turns toward us, her hands on her hips. “Our Shining Lord will not help his friend make his way to the Vale, then?”

“No.” Arjun pauses. “I will not.”

Valeria nods. “That is your choice. And we must accept our friends’ choices, Sébas,” she says to me. “A friend in truth is not there to serve you, despite what your uncle might have to say on the matter.”

“I never knew how much you disliked Nicodemus,” I say.

“What is there to like?” She sneers. “He is the worst kind of man and an even worse immortal.”

I press my lips together.

“Despite all his power, Nicodemus is small and petty. Not once have I seen him apologize for anything,” she clarifies. “A man who will not take responsibility for his actions is no man I wish to know.” Her gaze pierces into mine. “Have a care that you don’t follow in his footsteps.”

I say nothing. I simply listen. It is the second night that I’ve witnessed someone worthy of respect take my uncle to task. First Kassamir. Now Valeria. For so many years I wanted nothing more than to be like him. To have that kind of power and influence.

For the first time in my life, I wonder if I have valued the wrong thing. Maybe my uncle’s brand of power is not real power at all. And if that is true, then what should I have prized in those around me?

What is the measure of a good man?

Valeria reaches for the ceramic bowl along the windowsill. The ring she retrieves from inside glows softly, as if it has taken in the light of the moon itself. Before she hands it to me, she turns it over in her palm, her expression somber. “Your fétiche will work from tomorrow. It will protect you and you alone. Keep it safe.” When I reach for it, she pulls back. “I expect you to honor the wishes of those who care about you, Sébas. Avoiding the past will no longer be tolerated. Your mother understood the difference between loyalty and love. The next time you see me, I want you to tell me if you have learned what that is.” With a sly smile, she leans closer. “And your next apology will be better than the last one.”

I nod as I take the fétiche from her. The gold feels cool to the touch.

“Protect and be protected,” Valeria says.

“Thank you, Tía Valeria.” I wrap her hands in mine. “I will try to do better.”

“Yes, Sébas. I believe you will.”





BASTIEN





It is long past midnight when we leave Valeria’s shop. Late enough that most of the streets of the Vieux Carré are deserted, the sky above casting the world below in tones of indigo and ebony.

We cross the cobblestoned streets in silence. Despite his many protests, Arjun carries a linen-wrapped parcel of bread and gumbo.

He brandishes it with exasperation. “I’m flabbergasted by why it’s so difficult for you Yanks to understand that I don’t eat meat. It’s like you think I’m committing a cardinal sin. Let me ask you this: Did those slabs of alligator flesh actually appeal to you at one point?” He shudders. “It’s a dead animal, for God’s sake.”

I laugh. “If Valeria heard you call her a Yank, she would unhinge her jaw and swallow you whole.”

His mouth hangs ajar. “She didn’t support the rebel cause, did she?”

“Of course not. But it’s not as if any Yank would care about granting a woman like her the rights afforded to men.”

Arjun grunts in agreement. “God save the queen,” he says, his tone sarcastic.

I look upward. A fleece of clouds wraps around the moon, darkening the path before us. Still I feel like I’m seeing things clearly for the first time. My entire life, I thought everyone revered my uncle. He moved about in all kinds of circles as if he were born to rule. Whenever there was a problem, he appeared to have a solution. He offered me the guidance of a father and the wisdom of an elder all while presiding over a court of powerful immortals. Nicodemus was everything I wanted to be.