“You are keen, young one,” he said. “And you have may have been an Omeron witch once upon a mortal existence. However, now, in this immortality, you are vampire, Druella, a Thorbørn, your magic does not alter reality—until it does.”
I didn’t exactly know what he had meant, and he didn’t bother explaining, lifting his tattooed covered hand for Rhea, who gently put her delicate white hand within it.
Like the king and queen they were, they turned and walked majestically toward the doors. Simultaneously, the rest of the family followed behind, Ulrik and Melora first, Hinrik behind them, and then finally Arsiein and Atarah.
“My apologies,” Theseus spoke when they were gone.
“For what?”
He didn’t do anything other than support me.
“My mother. She can be a bit…overbearing.”
That was an understatement. Just when I’d thought she was warming up to me. Now she was ready to rip out my throat. Then again, I was not helping my cause. Theseus brought my wrist up to his lips, kissing the back of it.
“Druella, whatever the truth is, I know you are innocent of all malice.”
“How?” I whispered, hanging my head. “How can you possibly know that?”
He smiled. “Because you radiate goodness.”
“I do not—”
“You turned back time for a Lesser Blood vampire who spied on you. You defied the president of America for her.”
“I told you that Lucy is my friend—”
“You turned back time to prevent the murder of that witch Simone even if you did not like her.”
“I mean, it’s not like I was trying—”
“You drank from animals because you prioritized mortals and their grieving families over your own hunger. As a vampire, you could have used your new abilities or enhanced beauty to get anything you wanted. But you were content to go work and live in a small apartment quietly for the rest of your days. And before you claim it is because of a lack of wealth, know that I have seen newly reborn vampires steal gold from banks. I have seen them exact revenge on all those who had so much as sneezed at them while they were mortal. I have seen cruelty beyond what you can ever fathom, Druella. So do not think it is merely pure love that makes me trust you so.” He cupped my face, smiling at me. “I am confident you did no wrong, for, at your core, you are good and benevolent.”
“B-but you looked so hurt—”
“It had to be whatever magic was at play that caused such an expression.”
I stared at him because I genuinely wanted to believe he was right. That, locked away within my mind, there wasn’t some evil side of me. But it was hard to have confidence in his words when I could see myself. There, over his shoulder, standing disheveled, wide-eyed, and crazy, was me, the witch me, still in that straightjacket. I looked into my own brown eyes and saw the tears as they came down my own face.
Free us.
“Druella?” Glancing up, I met his concerned gaze. “What is it? Are you well?”
No. What if I really was crazy?
“Theseus, I-I’m scared,” I said before reaching up and hugging him as tightly as I could. I buried my face under his chin.
“I promise I shall not let anyone or anything hurt you.”
But what if I hurt him.
I was afraid of myself.
* * *
“Come, I must distract you,” Theseus said as we broke apart, his hands gently taking mine as he led me from the table.
I made sure to take the composition notebook with me as I was worried it would disappear and Sigbjørn would give me another look. We walked from the front of the library to the back and the Greek works collection. I knew that because Hinrik had labeled the side of the library shelves as such. However, Theseus didn’t stop for the books or even some of the neatly arranged scrolls stacked perfectly along the walls. Instead, he took me to what looked like a simple wooden door, the words Ánthropos métron, which meant “man is the measure of all things” in Greek, haphazardly carved into the wood near the handle. It came from one of Plato’s dialogues, Theaetetus, concerning the nature of knowledge.