Page 2 of Night Fall
She shook her head with a small grunt.
Erik ran his fingers through her long dark tresses, bunching the curled strands between his fingers. “Tell me, fagr skjaldmær min.”
“When will you tell me what that means?” Mya asked, attempting to distract him as she sniffled and leaned more into his body, letting his strength run through her.
“When you are older.”
When she pouted, and turned her head to face him, he said. “Now, Mya.”
She sighed. “One of the stablemen…” She paused, glancing at Erik to see how much trouble she would be in for wandering around the horses.
“I already know where you go, fagr skjaldmær min.”
She gasped. “You do?”
“Of course I do. Why do you think I hired extra men? Their job is to watch over you, if I am otherwise engaged, and ensure none of the horses hurt you.” Erik dropped a soft kiss to her temple. “There are not many places you could go that would escape my gaze. It is my job, my duty, to be there for you should you ever need me, and it is a role I take very seriously.”
Mya blushed, but she did not know why. She was not sure what to call the level of affection and admiration that spiraled through her heart at his words. He made her feel safe, she realized, a feeling she had only felt before with her parents. Then the crawling feeling of misery tugged sharply at her heart once more and she had to stop herself from crying again.
“One of the stablemen asked if I was your daughter,” she finally said. “I-I know he did not mean any harm, but it made me think about Papa and Mama.” She trembled, and Erik drew her closer as if he wished to physically banish her grief. “I try not to think about them too often. It hurts so much when I do. I was not strong enough to protect them.” She shook her head. “I should have been stronger.”
“Mya–”
“What if it happens again?” she hiccupped.
Erik wiped the tears from her eyes. “We are vampires now. We do not have to worry about the plague—”
“But there are other things. You are always training Gregori and Lucas to fight because humans can kill us, yet you will not train me. Is it because I am too weak? Is it because you can only see me as a girl? Do you see me as nothing but a young woman, a child, too young to be useful? Your pseudo-daughter—”
“No,” Erik said so sternly that it felt as if the world stopped. “You are not weak.” He paused and stroked the soft skin of her cheek. “I remember the day Gregori brought me to you. I remember how hard you tried to fight to save Gregori from contracting the disease. Those are not the actions of a weakling. And I could never see you as a child, nor as my daughter.”
Mya was too stunned to say anything, and he took advantage of her silence. “I see you as something so much more. Something more beautiful, more fantastical than I could ever explain to you. I cannot see you as I see Gregori and Lucas, nor can I treat you the same way I treat them. You hold my heart in a way that no one else ever will, and that love allows me to see you, to see through you into this thing here.” He lightly poked at her chest, right above her heart. “You are strong, fagr skjaldmær min, and I am honored to be able to witness that strength every day.”
She shattered, tossing her arms around Erik’s neck hugging him as she cried into his body. His long, pale blonde hair tickled her face, neck, and shoulder as she stole into his warmth. He held her, gently rocking with her and rubbing her back until the grief of her parents’ death left her.
The silence brought back his words, and Mya tried to analyze her own feelings for the man who had helped save her life. There was so much to Erik that she treasured, and yet so much she did not understand, including her feelings for him.
He was everywhere and everything to her. He was there when the memory of her near death kept her awake at night. He tucked her in and waited until she was asleep before he left. He was there to speak with her, to carry her, play with her, read to her. He fed her, clothed her, listened to her words, her thoughts. He valued her. Without him she would have nothing, she would be nothing.
But it was more than that.
She respected the man she found herself watching far too often. She respected how he treated those around him. He was stern but just, a merciful enforcer who both defended his lands and inspired his people. He was intelligent, courageous, brave. He gave so much and asked for so little back. To Mya, he was a symbol of perfection—something she should not be able to reach—that blessed her each day and night.
But what did all of that mean? She loved Erik in a way she did not love her brother or cousin. Mya did not have any companions, but she knew what she felt for Erik was more than that. If Erik asked her to lay down her life for him, she would do it with a smile.
It was not adoration or pure devotion. It was a simplistic need to bring him whatever level of joy she could, to give him something of what he gave to everyone else: A chance for survival. A chance for happiness. A second chance at life.
So there, in that moment, even though he had not asked and even though she did not have a clear understanding of her feelings, she gave him what she could, something she had not given anyone outside of her family.
“You are in my heart too, Erik.” Mya exhaled, and he shivered. “I do not know the love I feel for you. I have not felt it before, but it is there, nonetheless. It is all-consuming and never ending.”
Erik’s supple lips curled at her temple, then he inhaled as if he could breathe her in. “And for that, I am truly blessed.”
Mya thought to skip her visit to the stables the following day, not wanting to repeat what happened before, but she pushed through her fear. She enjoyed tending to the horses, and as a strong woman, she refused to be chased away from something that made her happy. So, with her basket of apples, carrots, and celery, Mya held her head high and entered the massive archway.
Every head snapped away from the sight of her, causing her confidence to drop. The stablemen normally did not pay attention to her, but this level of avoidance was unsettling. They seemed to cower with every step she took.
Mya knew that she did not inspire fear, and the only person she knew that did—Erik—was not in the stables. Mya would have known if he was behind her. He always smelled of pine, ash, smoke, and cinnamon, scents that brought her comfort and peace.
