Day Eight-
Talwyn

She saw him standing in the shadows as she approached the west end of Saranlin, the capital city of the Earth Court. The desert alcazar was just down the road, and it was odd that someone was standing so near. It was more odd that sentries hadn’t come to ask him what he was doing.

 

Or Azrael for that matter. This close, she would expect him to come take care of it himself.

 

Her eyes narrowed as she got closer, shifting the bag of apples in her arms. Because of course Thorne had found her stash and eaten them all, and of course the prick of a griffin refused to do anything else until she got more. 

 

The male’s eyes followed her, and she held his stare, coming to a standstill when she was directly across from him. This close, she could see he was young. Not a child by any means, but he hadn’t lived enough years to go through his Staying yet. She’d be surprised if he’d even celebrated his twentieth year.

 

“What are you doing out here?” she demanded, her words hard. She waited for him to drop his gaze— because surely he knew who she was—but he didn’t. He just stared back at her. “Do you not speak?”

 

He shrugged a shoulder, his throat bobbing with this swallow. It took her longer than it should have to realize what he was. When she was Fae, she would have scented him a mile away. Now, it didn’t register until he lunged, his fangs appearing.

 

A godsdamn Night Child.

 

Attacking her in her godsdamn home?

 

She may not be Fae, but she still had decades of training. And despite a Night Child’s natural strength and instincts, he was still a child, just as she thought.

 

Her hand snapped up, wrapping around his throat, and before he could react, she’d dropped the cloth bag of applies and had a shirastone dagger pressed to his sternum.

 

“Back up,” she snarled, moving with him as he slowly moved backwards until he was against a wall. He was an inch or two taller than she was, and he glared down at her. No fear. No nerves. Just pure…anger? “Did you seriously just try to take blood from me? You know who I am, right?”

 

His lip curled up in a derisive sneer. “I don’t give a fuck that you sleep in the prince’s bed.”

 

She arched a brow, pressing on the dagger enough to pierce his tunic and draw a drop of blood. It seeped into the white fabric, and she smiled at the small wince that flashed across his face before he quickly wiped it away. 

 

“Who are you?” she demanded.

 

“No one that matters,” he retorted, and she cocked her head to the side at the words. This close she could see the way he kept swallowing, as though his throat was too dry. The bloodshot eyes bordering on mania. The slight tremble in his limbs as he worked to keep control.

 

He was starving. Blood. Food. It didn’t matter.

 

“I’m going to lower my weapon, and you are going to pick up all the apples you made me drop,” she said slowly. “Then you’re going to follow me.”

 

“And if I tell you to fuck off?”

 

She kept her face void of any emotion. “I truly don’t give any fucks if you tell me to fuck off,” she replied, stepping back. She lowered the dagger, but kept her grip tight, ready to defend herself again if needed. “But if you attack a single one of my people, you’ll wish you’d never stepped foot here. Now, you can either continue that way, going around Saranlin,” she said with a jerk of her chin to the north, “and make your way to the Night Children lands. Or you can follow me.”

 

Talwyn didn’t sheath her blade, keeping in her hand at her side, but she did turn her back on him, not bothering to pick up the apples. She left them there with the young male, letting him choose his own path, but a few seconds later, she heard him grumble a curse and the rustle of the cloth sack as apples were shoved into it.

 

“Don’t toss them,” she snapped over her shoulder. “They’ll bruise.”

 

Neither of them spoke again, and within minutes they were walking through the gates and up the path to the main foyer. She wasn’t surprised in the slightest to see Azrael standing there waiting for her, his arms crossed and features stoic as always. His eyes narrowed on the male still a few paces behind her. She was surprised, however, to see the High Witch standing with him. 

Talwyn stopped beside Azrael as Juliette’s gaze went to the male, her violet eyes softening. “Hello, Malachi.”

 

The Night Child said nothing, but Talwyn watched his fingers tighten on the sack of apples. He knew Juliette? That was interesting.

 

“Take them inside,” she snapped to the male. Looking at a sentry, she added, “Show him to the kitchens, and tell Tamer he needs sustenance from the blood stores.”

 

The sentry nodded, motioning for Malachi to go ahead of him. She waited until she knew the male wouldn’t be able to hear them with his vampyre hearing before she turned back to Juliette.

 

“You know him?” she demanded.

 

She nodded, something sad crossing her features. “He was one of the children in the Syndicate. His younger brother was killed by Alaric. Malachi was eleven years when it happened. His brother was seven. He has always been…” She trailed off, clearing her throat.

“He came with the other children, and after the war, when we were trying to get all the children placed in permanent homes, he simply left. He was all of fifteen years. We’ve tried to keep track of him, but he is…” Juliette smiled, something soft and sorrowful. “He is searching.”

 

With that, the High Witch turned and wandered off. Talwyn had no idea how she’d gotten here or when or how long she was staying.

Before she could ask any of those questions, Azreal spoke.

 

“First a griffin, now a vampyre? You are assembling quite the collection.”

 

“I’m not collecting anything,” she snapped, whirling on him, and then scowling when she found the smallest of smiles playing on his lips.

 

He hummed in response, stepping closer and leaning down to brush his lips along her cheek. “You are a good soul, Talwyn Semiria,” he murmured into her ear. 

 

“You knew of him?”

 

He straightened, reaching to tuck stray hair behind her ear. “I was getting ready to go meet him where he lurked in the shadows when Juliette appeared and told me of his past.”

 

Godsdamn Oracle.

 

“He is just as she said,” Azrael went on, his fingertips lingering on her jaw. “Lost. Angry. Feels abandoned. Introduce him to your overgrown bird.”

 

She scoffed, shoving at his chest, but he only huffed a breath of laughter as he bent to brush his lips along hers again.

 

“I have a matter to tend to,” he said, stepping back from her. “But I’ll be back for dinner. I already told the staff to set an extra place setting.”

 

“For Juliette?” she asked, turning to watch him take his leave.

 

“For our new house guest,” he replied over his shoulder. “I have a feeling he’ll be staying a while.”

 

She scoffed again, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

Lost. Angry. Feels abandoned.

 

His words echoed in her soul. Was Malachi even twenty years? That was too young to feel any of those things.

 

That was too young to be alone.

 

She sighed, swiping a hand down her face.

 

Then she went to find the lost soul who’d been forgotten and abandoned in the world knowing Azrael was right.

 

He’d be staying for a while. 

 

©️Melissa K. Roehrich 2024