Seeds of Sorrow (Immortal Realms Book 1)
Seeds of Sorrow: Chapter 8

Her words had haunted him. Enough so that when Seurat had come to request they prepare her a bedroom, Draven had handed him a heavy change purse, instructing him to acquire anything he thought would be needed to make her stay more comfortable. Seurat had chosen a handful of the maids to assist, revenants still fresh enough that the memories of their old lives, and the comforts needed there, hadn’t yet faded away.

After that, he had done his best to push thoughts of the young Lucem maiden from his mind and focus on what he needed to for the day: trolls pushing onto chimera land, new revenants spotted wandering over the fields outside a village not drawn in by the summoning spell, and petty disputes between the vampire nobility. All of it seemed pitifully commonplace when Draven considered the innocent life his brothers had just decimated.

He was feeding when a trio of goblins came scurrying into his study, grumbling and grunting their discontent. Draven lifted his head from the trembling wrist held out to him and shot a glare at the ringleader of his present pests.

“Quiet! One moment, please,” he snapped, earning a big-eyed look of dismay. Huffing in irritation, he waved the mortal away. “Take him,” he said dismissively to the harpy standing sentry near the door.

She moved forward to clamp a hand around the man’s bicep and tugged him from the room to return him to his place in the dungeons. Rubbing at his forehead, Draven watched as the goblins hurried across the floor, crawling quickly up the leg of his desk to surround him on its surface.

They squawked all at the same time in shrill voices that made him wince. “Easy . . . easy . . . Enough,” he growled firmly. “I can’t understand you when you’re all going at once.”

The goblins spoke a language all their own, one that had taken him decades to decipher once the critters had snuck their way into his castle like unwanted rodents and chosen to make this their breeding ground. Castle Aasha was the safest place in all of Andhera for the tiny creatures to exist.

The smallest one, who also happened to be the loudest of the three, scampered forward to sit near where his hand rested on the desk’s surface. Taking his thumb in its small hands, the goblin clung to it as it began a tale of woe. A tale of screeching in the hallways and fabulous new toys wrenched away rudely.

So, she’s awake.

“That . . . is the new lady of the castle. Mmm . . . yes, she is a friend.” Draven chuckled, imagining the scenario in the hallway, Eden coming across the goblins for the first time. “I’m certain she didn’t mean to be rude to you and scream. Perhaps you startled her.”

Draven scooped up the goblin nearest him, allowing it to sprawl over the palm of his hand as he scratched gently at its back. “Give her a chance, she is new here.” He grunted as the goblin in his hand nipped him playfully, then he set it back down amongst its friends. “Be off with you now. And no taking things from her room!” he called after them as an afterthought.

The goblins were a good reminder that he had an entire new world to explain to Eden, who wouldn’t be sure of anything around her. Standing up from his chair, he made his way across the room and out into the hall. Stopping a revenant floating by, he asked where Seurat could be found, only to learn that he was with Eden and that they had been spotted heading outside.

“Thank you,” Draven murmured, then headed for the garden. He could only assume that was where Seurat was taking her, the one place she may be able to relate to.

Walking across the moonlit garden, Draven considered his options when it came to Eden. She needed to be made to feel at home during her time spent in Andhera. While this had not been her choice, nor his own, he wouldn’t punish her more than Zryan already had by sending her here. She would also need to be kept safe. While Lucem was a land of chiffon and lust, with the scent of eternal blossoms in the air, Andhera was not. Eden had been deposited into a world where almost everything around her could, and likely would, seek to kill her. It was now Draven’s task to keep her alive. A harpy soldier or were-wolf escort may not be the worst idea.

He spotted them long before they took note of him, and Draven found himself stopping in his tracks as he beheld Eden in standard Andherian clothing. Swathed in midnight blue, she strolled across the lawns beside Seurat, looking confident and strong. He found himself wondering if she could find happiness here, far away from the sunshine of Lucem, in a world of darkness that still held many wonders if one was willing to look.

Draven thought of her stooped over in Travion’s garden, investigating little green blooms rather than dancing at the ball. If anyone were able to find the beauties of his land . . .

They noticed him at last. Seurat quickly took his leave, and then it was just the two of them once more in a moonlit garden.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for affording me the luxury of a bed and furnished room.”

If gentle words were arrows, Eden had just drawn them from her quiver and fired them with deft accuracy. Draven found himself frowning, which may have come off as more of a sneer as he crossed his arms over his chest, the material of his gray linen shirt growing taught over his shoulders.

“It was never my plan to deny you them.” They simply hadn’t been expecting the arrival of a Lucem maiden in the early hours of dawn. “I trust that Seurat has been tending to your needs?” He glanced over her outfit once again before meeting her gaze. Or attempting to—she seemed hesitant to look him in the eye.

“Yes, he has.” Simple and distant.

Sighing in frustration, Draven looked out over the garden, noting that the vespertilio flowers were now in full bloom. Their dark purple petals stretched up toward the yellow moonlight, while their spray of antennas sought to attract whatever insects may be around. Their perfume, should one be close enough to smell them, held the scent of crisp mountain air just after the first snow had fallen. Clean, fresh, exhilarating.

“I have chosen a handmaiden for you. Loriah has been at Castle Aasha for a number of years now and can assist you with any questions you may have if Seurat or I are unavailable.” She had also not been with them so long that she had forgotten what it was like to be human or to be alive. Loriah had been one of the revenants to aid in the decorating of Eden’s room. “Loriah was employed by a noble family when she was alive, so she is wonderfully experienced in helping noblewomen prepare for the day.”

“When she was alive?”

The horrified tone of her voice drew Draven’s eyes back to Eden, and he found her staring up at him, her brow furrowed. He could see the way her mind raced behind those bright green eyes and wished he could tap into her thoughts to know just what it was she was pondering so thoroughly.

“Loriah is a revenant, as are most of my servants. Which means that once, she lived as a human in Midniva, and upon her death found herself here in Andhera because she was not ready to pass on to the afterlife. They are all given the option of serving until they are ready to meet their end,” he explained.

“So . . . she is a—”

“Spirit of the dead, yes.”

Eden visibly gulped but showed no other outward sign that she was concerned by what she was hearing.

“You can summon her by simply saying her name. If you ask a question or make a request, you will be answered by whichever revenant is closest at the time. All will gladly attend to you.” He watched her as he spoke, waiting for the moment when this all became too much and she looked to bolt.

“And my days here . . . What are you expecting from me?” she asked, her chin up as she posed this question.

Draven could see from the slight quiver in her bottom lip that it had taken a great deal of strength and courage for her to ask him that. Gone was the lighthearted conversation of the previous evening, demolished beneath Zryan’s master plans.

“This is now your home. You are free to explore it as you wish. My only demand is that, when leaving the castle walls, you take a harpy or were-guard along with you. Your fae scent is a delectable treat to many of the residents of this land . . . and you will need the protection if you wish to explore.”

“Explore? This is a land of death, what more could I possibly wish to see?” Eden shook her head, a frown marring her lovely features. “If it is anything like what I have already experienced . . . then I have had more than enough to last me a lifetime.”

Her words, though fair, brought a scowl to his own face, and Draven looked away from her. “Very well then.” His tone was clipped as he pushed down disappointment. Curiosity in the gardens of Midniva did not transfer over to the bizarre and dangerous beauty of Andhera, of that he was already aware. “Lastly, be cautious when on the outer walkways of the castle. The winds can become turbulent, and should you fall . . . ”

Draven looked down at Eden once more, wishing yet again that he could see into her mind and know what words he could speak to bring her comfort.

“Should I fall?” she prompted.

“The pit that lies at the base of the castle on the western side leads directly into the afterlife. There is no coming back from that death. Stay clear of it.” His words were firm and important. “On that side of the mountain, you will also find a cave. Do not enter it. The cave is a dark place that elicits one’s worst nightmares. It’s linked directly to the afterlife, and with its essence leaching into it, very few survive the passage through to the other end.”

Eden’s eyes widened as she listened, his words not helping to encourage a desire to explore the landscape of this realm.

“Now, come, I will introduce you to Loriah, then leave you be to mope about the destitute life you now live.”

His words must have ruffled her, for she gasped, and her cheeks burned with indignation. Cold like his realm, the king in him didn’t care. She had made it very clear she had no desire to experience this world and what it had to offer; he would not hide the fact that he took offense to that.

With nothing further to say to her, Draven began to walk across the gardens, following the path that would take them through the large conservatory doors and back into the main area of the castle. If she chose not to follow, it was of no consequence to him, but he was rewarded with the sounds of her soft footfall once they reached the stone steps.

“Loriah!” he called out once they were within Aasha’s halls.

The revenant appeared, her form transparent at first, until she manifested as a solid presence. She had raven black hair that feathered around her face and pale skin that had been almost translucent in her human life.

“Your Majesty.” Loriah curtsied.

“This is the lady Eden. I want you to see to all her needs and make certain that she becomes familiar with the castle. She is new to Andhera, so she will need to understand the people here. Help her learn where to find the harpies if she desires to go outside, and which of the wolves is best to deal with should she need their services.”

“Of course, sire.” Loriah bowed her head.

“You’re not going to—” Eden began, only to be cut off as General Ailith suddenly appeared at the end of the hall and called out for Draven.

“Your Majesty! May I have a word?” Ailith, a tall woman in her life, was now a giant of a harpy, standing taller than Draven when her wings were taken into account. Her taloned feet clicked on the stone floor as she strode purposefully toward them.

Draven looked to Eden. “Loriah will see to anything you may need today. Let her know any preferred dishes you would like to have made for your meals, and we will do the best that we can do to accommodate them.” With that, he turned from her to meet Ailith, who seemed to be on the warpath. “Yes?”

“Word just came from Primis,” she muttered softly.

“And?” he growled, already knowing what she was about to say.

“There have been more bodies.”

Seething, Draven ground his teeth. “Very well. Find Channon, tell him to round up the pack. It would seem we’re going hunting.”

As Ailith left him, Draven turned to peer after Eden and Loriah, already facing the opposite direction and heading away from him. Even in the midnight blue jacket and matching breeches, Eden was a bright light in a dark realm. One, perhaps, that shone far too brightly.

Turning from her, Draven called out to a revenant, demanding his cloak. Once it was fitted around him, he left for the courtyard to meet with his hunting party.

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