Evermore, an Arotas Novella (The Arotas Series)

an AROTAS novel

BY

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real
people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters,
places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced
in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Copyright © 2014 by Amy Miles Books, LLC.

http://www.AmyMilesBooks.com

ISBN: 978-1495426773

For
my readers,

A
special thank you to anyone who
has picked up one of my books and given me a chance. This novella is
my gift to those of you who have fallen in love with Roseline,
Gabriel, Sadie, Nicolae and Fane. These characters are more than
people on a page. They are my friends. I laugh with them, fight
with them and mourn each passing.

An
author is truly only as good as her readers and each of you are very
special to me.

Thank
you for your support.

I
pledge my heart, my life, my soul to you on this day and all the days
to come. My life, bonded to yours, if you will have me.

Roseline
wraps her arms tightly about herself, feeling as if the mists that
cling to the castle grounds have seeped through the walls and closed
in on her, yet still she does not turn away from the window. There is
something soothing about the rain. The dreariness of it calls to her.

She
has avoided the sun since Gabriel’s passing, avoided everyone
except Elias, but even he has gone away. She knew it would happen
eventually. Surely he has other tasks to attend to than keeping vigil
by her side.

The
rain pattering against the pane of glass before her is rhythmic and
soothing, barely more than a gentle sprinkle now. It is far better
than the torrential downpours that have left the castle grounds
sodden for nearly three days. Leaning her forehead against the
window, she closes her eyes to the ache in her chest that has become
all too familiar.

Gabriel
is gone. Fane is gone. Nothing else matters.

She
knows that she should go to visit their graves, but she can’t
bring herself to do it. To do so would be to admit to the horrible
finality of it all.

A
single thought plagues her relentlessly:
I
am
alone.

Roseline
stiffens when a knock sounds at the door, knowing without opening it
that Sadie has brought her yet another plate of food. They have begun
to stack up outside her door. At least the dogs are happy with her
lack of interest in eating.

Roseline
sighs, slowly shaking her head.
Not
completely alone.

“Go
away,” she whispers, knowing her friend will have no trouble
hearing her through the thick wooden door.

Since
Sadie’s transformation not long ago, she has done remarkably
well with adapting to her new skin. Roseline easily remembers the
first few months after she was turned, remembers the confusion, the
fear, and the endless questions about the unknown. Thankfully, Sadie
will never truly have to experience all of that. Not as long as
Roseline is around.

But
I haven’t been around, have I?
she
thinks, silently chiding herself. She can’t hide up in her
tower forever and she knows it.

She
hears Sadie’s feet shuffling in the hallway and closes her eyes
to still her growing frustration. Sadie means well, but Roseline has
no desire to chat about her feelings or eat anything piled on top of
Sadie’s lunch plate. Claudia may be an excellent cook, but the
idea of food turns Roseline’s stomach.

Sadie
has taken to wearing hunter garb, finding herself at home in the
tightfitting black uniforms and thick-soled combat boots. If Roseline
could muster the effort to care, she would complement her friend on
the new look. It really does suit her. Far better than most of the
wild outfits Sadie has donned in the past. The worst was the cowgirl
costume. Roseline still has no clue what she was thinking.

“I’m
worried about you,” Sadie says back, just as softly. “We
all are.”

Roseline
pulls away from the window, feeling the damp from the moisture
clinging to the pane of foggy glass upon her forehead as she draws
her knees up into her chest and balances on the plush seat cushion.
Why
can’t they just leave me alone?

The
castle is filled with people. Many immortals followed them home from
Canada for the funeral. Others came from the continent to pay their
respects. Every spare room has been turned into sleeping quarters.
Hunters now claim every couch, bed, and rows of makeshift cots set up
in the great hall below. You can’t walk a straight line without
tripping over someone, and the line to use the bathroom never seems
to diminish.

Her
home has been overrun. Not that she minds having the hunters here. In
fact, if circumstances had been different, she would have welcomed
them, but now she feels trapped. She longs to roam the silent, dreary
halls in peace. To wallow in her mourning, but instead, she is
confined to her tower, her only tiny slice of privacy.

Nicolae
will have his hands full with training the new immortals, hunters who
chose endless life over sure death on the battlefield. She knows he
is waiting for her, needing her advice and experience to help him
teach his men to deal with the new urges that they are helpless to
ignore. A man’s soul and will power can only do so much to
combat the need for blood. No, not the need, the longing.

She
will be a crucial part of guiding these new immortals, but she can’t
bring herself to do it. Not yet. So Nicolae trains them as if they
were still human, placing a crossbow or ax in their hand and setting
them to train in the courtyard below to keep their minds busy. It
won’t work for long, but at least it is something.

Not
all the fallen hunters chose this fate, and in this moment, staring
out over the sodden castle grounds and feeling time stretch
infinitely before her, she does not blame them. There is great honor
in a good death. She, of all people, knows the burden of bearing
immortality. Time never ends. It flows and taunts her until she wants
to double over and shriek, tearing strands of hair from her scalp,
but she does not. To do so would be to slip down a slope of insanity
she fears she might never be able to climb back out of.

“I
just need some time,” she whispers instead.

“I
know.” Sadie sighs and leans against the doorframe. Roseline
can hear her trailing her nail idly over the grains of wood in the
door. “When you’re ready, you know you can talk to me,
right?”

Roseline
clamps her eyes tightly shut. She has known Sadie just as long as
Gabriel, and with her friend’s presence comes a flood of
memories, of moments stolen from her that she will never have. It’s
not Sadie’s fault, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

She
should have had a life with Gabriel, a life beyond the vows they
spoke in the snow-covered woods, as binding as a human’s
marital pledge. Elias said Gabriel was destined to be a protector, a
guardian. He may have been meant for those things for mankind, but he
was meant for them even more for her. They were bonded and that is
not something someone so easily moves on from.

She
fully intended to spend her remaining years in Gabriel’s arms.
No place would have brought her greater joy, but it was not meant to
be. Fate has seen to that.

I
had two chances at love and both have been lost to me.

It
is hard to stop the tears that threaten to fall once they begin, but
somehow she manages. Roseline has never liked crying, never liked
feeling weakness. Living as Vladimir’s prisoner for so many
years taught her to never let anyone see her pain or risk it being
exploited.

“Yeah,”
she mumbles back to Sadie, realizing her friend is waiting for an
answer. She clenches her arms tighter around her knees. “I
know.”

“Good,
‘cause I do actually know how to shut up and listen. It’s
happened once… maybe twice in my life, but I can be a good
listener when I need to be.”

Roseline’s
lip twitches. “You’re babbling.”

“I
know. Got you talking though, didn’t I?”

She
can hear the pride in her friend’s voice and almost smirks.
“Good-bye, Sadie.”

“Fine.
I’m going, but you know I’m coming back.”

She
does. Sadie has come to check on her regularly for the past several
days. When she first rises from her slumber at Nicolae’s side,
with each meal that passes and before she returns to her bed, long
after the moon has taken up its residence in the sky.

Nicolae
has not given up attending to his uncle’s affairs and estate,
but he has been spending an awful lot of time here in Sadie’s
room. Roseline doesn’t care. They are free to do whatever they
want.

The
one thing that does mildly surprise her though is how accepting
William has become of their tryst. Perhaps his budding infatuation
with the fair-haired Claudia has helped to distract him a bit.

Roseline
breathes a sigh of relief when she hears Sadie’s footsteps
retreat down the hall. She can hear William calling out in a hushed
tone, inquiring as to whether his sister managed to make any headway.
Roseline raises a hand and unlatches the window to drown out their
conversation.

She
doesn’t want pity, not even from her friends. She just wants
time to come to an end or to rewind entirely so that she can change
fate.

Both
of the men that she has loved died in front of her and she was
incapable of saving either of them. No one should be forced to bear
such a burden, especially with an eternity of mourning stretching out
before her.

The
air is crisp against her face as she leans forward and breathes deep.
The rain pelts down at her, but she hardly notices. There is a scent
on the air that has ensnared her senses.

Pressing
her cheeks between the panes of glass, she breathes deep, closing her
eyes to focus.
Elias
has returned.

Her
eyes fly open wide as a whirlwind of questions besiege her.
Why
hasn’t he come to see me? Is he afraid of disturbing me? And
why does he linger on the castle grounds in such dismal weather?
Surely his feathers will grow heavy with moisture.

She
leans back and frowns.
Or
does water roll off them like the back of a duck.

Chiding
herself for such a random and utterly pointless thought, Roseline
rises with hardly a sound as the cushion returns to its former shape
behind her. She shakes off the ratty, quilted blanket she has wrapped
about her shoulders and lets it fall carelessly to the floor, pooling
at her feet.

It
smells of tears, her only source of comfort when no one else was
there to hold her.

I
have to see him.
She is at the door in two bounds. The door rattles against the wall
as she thrusts it open and darts down the hall and descends to the
second floor. Her footsteps are silent as she weaves through the
corridors. For hundreds of years she has walked these torch-lit
halls. She knows this castle's secrets better than anyone.

The
woven tapestries that hang over the stone walls flap behind her as
she runs full out. She startles a hunter as she rounds a corner and
leaps over his back while he kneels to tie his shoes. He splutters
and flails backward, landing with a pained thump. She doesn’t
call out an apology or slow to see if he is hurt.

She
can feel a cold draft winding its way down the hall, curling toward
her from just up ahead. She takes an immediate left and leaps through
an open archway, the shattered window among the many yet to be
replaced from her battle with Vladimir. Her hair whips against her
cheek as she plummets from the second floor. Tossing out her hands
she lands on a clay tile rooftop in a silent crouch, perfectly
balanced along the very edge. Within the span of a heartbeat she
leaps and swings from awning to awning, crossing the perimeter of the
courtyard with grace and ease.

Hunters
turn and gawk at her as she releases the final awning and spirals to
the courtyard below. Water splashes around her boots as she lands.

“Roseline?
What the heck are you doing?”

She
turns at the sound. “Not now, Nicolae.”

“Wait!”
he calls after her, starting forward, but she sprints away, weaving
effortlessly through the stunned group of hunters. They scatter in
attempt to clear a path for her, but she carves her own, knocking men
aside. The sound of clattering bows tumbling from a table and the
clanging of swords slipping from their positions as they lean upon
the wall echoes behind her, but she doesn’t turn back.