Chapter 92

Rowena

Eric and I sat beside each other at the table. Our mother and father sat across from us; our father leaned on his elbows, pinching the bridge of his nose, and our mother pensively stirred her coffee with a spoon.

Everything was silent save for the clinking of the spoon against the mug. It had been quiet like this for some time; none of us even knew where to begin or what to say.

It had been two days since Eric had drank my blood, and finally, the doctors had let both of us come home. Two days in one of those cells had left me feeling both restless and exhausted at the same time, and I was glad to be back in our mansion.

Both Eric and I had tested negative for the Wolf’s Fury virus. Eric’s symptoms hadn’t returned in the slightest, and I never had any symptoms to begin with—because apparently I was immune. And now Eric was, too, thanks to drinking my blood.

I still didn’t know how I had come up with that idea; perhaps it was just a last ditch effort to save Eric. Everything during those moments felt like such a blur at this point that I couldn’t even begin to describe my thought process.

All I knew was that I needed to save him. And I had done just that.

Aside from that, Eric now knew that I knew about my true birthright. Of course he knew from the beginning, seeing as how he was the one who found me in the blizzard all those years ago, but I didn’t blame him for not telling me.

He was just trying to keep me safe. I knew that.

But I hadn’t told him about my feelings yet. I didn’t know why I didn’t. Maybe it was because we hadn’t had a chance yet, or…

Maybe I was just scared—scared that we would never really be able to see each other as more than siblings. We had, after all, been raised like brother and sister. I didn’t even know if our parents would approve. For all I knew, they might still take issue with it. Maybe everyone would, even when the truth eventually came out about my true heritage.

“I still can’t believe it,” my mother finally blurted out, breaking the silence. “I can’t believe that it… worked.”

I swallowed, staring down at my lap for a few moments before finding the right words. “It seems that the serum may have diluted my blood too much,” I explained slowly. “Maybe that’s why Wolf’s Fury was able to return to begin with—it was never fully eradicated by the original serum.”

My father sighed and nodded. “It was dormant all these years. But you…” He shook his head incredulously. “You didn’t just cure Eric; you made him immune.”

“This is very special, Rowena.” My mother, seeming to lose interest in her coffee, rose from the table and walked over to the window. I watched her slender back as she stood there, her blonde hair loose from its usual neat bun. I still viewed her as my real mother, despite everything. And I always would.

“I think I could cure everyone in time,” I said, my fingers floating up to touch the bandage around my neck. “Just a few drops per person should be enough.”

“Yes, well…” My father sighed. “It will take some time. You have to consider your own health and safety first.”

I nodded, albeit haltingly. I supposed I had almost forgotten about myself—I was just so excited to cure people that the thought of literally bleeding myself dry hadn’t even occurred to me.

Before I could speak, however, my father continued. “But you cannot tell anyone about this,” he said, meeting my gaze with an intense expression on his face. “I’ve already paid the director of the quarantine center a pretty penny to keep this entire thing under wraps.”

“Everyone will think that your serum was what saved Eric,” my mother chimed in, turning away from the window to face me again. “That, because of your excellent skills as a combat manager, you found a cure. But you cannot mention your blood.”

“Which is technically the truth,” Eric added softly. “You are an excellent combat manager, Rowena. Thanks to your diligent research, you figured out a cure.”

Sighing, I managed another stiff nod. They were right; the truth about the use of my blood in the serum needed to be kept a secret, at least for now. If anyone found out about my special blood, they would begin digging.

And if they began digging, then they would discover that I was the missing Northern princess.

“How… How long do I have to keep this all a secret?” I found myself asking. “What if someone finds out in the meantime?”

My father let out a low grumble. “If anyone finds out, we’ll try our best to keep them quiet,” he explained. “As for how long it could be…”

“It could be years, Rowena.” My mother’s jaw was clenched, hard, when I turned toward her. It was rare that she wasn’t smiling in some capacity, and right now was one of those rare moments.

“Years?” I echoed. “But what if…?”

Before I could finish, I felt a warm sensation under the table. Eric’s hand had found mine underneath the white tablecloth, his fingers enveloping my own. Instantly, I felt a sense of peace wash over me—the same peace I had felt during those moments just before I had passed out in the quarantine center.

When I glanced over at him, his blue eyes met mine. No longer glowing, but steadier than ever.

I knew, in that moment, that I could handle this. So long as he was by my side.

…

The door to Eric’s room was cracked open as I approached. Beyond the wood, I could hear the sounds of fists hitting leather, labored breathing and grunts. His shadow crept up onto the wall, his movements quick and calculated.

I stayed there in the hallway, just watching him for a few moments as he hit his punching bag. He looked great, truly—all of his previous vigor had returned, maybe even more so. His muscles still appeared bigger than before, his skin somehow more tanned despite being in a cell.

It was almost as if my blood had not only renewed his health, but increased it.

As I watched him, I kept thinking back to those days leading up to his confinement. He had looked sickly, a pallor taking over his skin. When he had fought those three infected warriors in the parking lot, he had seemed weak and slow, so much unlike his usual self.

Had the virus already been spreading inside of him at that point? I couldn’t think of any other explanation.

Not that it mattered. He was better now; much better.

Almost as though sensing my presence, Eric suddenly stopped his punching and lifted his head.

“Come in, Rowena,” he called out without even looking.

Sighing, I pushed through the door and shut it behind me, watching for a moment as he wiped his sweaty forehead with a towel. For the first time, I allowed myself to take him in—his glistening muscles, his defined waist, his sculpted arms.

He was perfect. And someday, hopefully, he would be mine.

“Did you need something?” he asked.

I held up the plate of cookies I had been holding. “I brought these for you,” I said.

Eric glanced at the plate and grinned. “Man, they only let me eat dry toast and jell-o in that cell,” he said, crossing the room to take a cookie, which he ate half of in one big bite. “I’ve missed these.”

I smirked and set the plate down. “Well, they’re all yours,” I said before turning—mostly to hide my blushing over the close proximity of his glistening abs.

As I walked to the door, however, I stopped. My hand rested on the doorknob, my shoulders tensing. Without turning, I said softly, “Why did you hold my hand earlier?”

Eric was silent for some time. When I finally turned to face him, his expression was neutral—but in a careful sort of way, as though he didn’t want to divulge too much. Finally, when he spoke, his voice was hardly more than a whisper.

“I think you already know the answer, Rowena.”