The journey was to the capital, so of course it wasn’t direct; it wasn't something they could do in a single day. They would have to make several stops. The first of these arrived before he even realized it, as he was simply watching the landscape drift by outside the window. He hadn't spoken much, perhaps because he was lost in his own thoughts. Between the first-year students, the professor, and the members of the student council, there were a lot of people to house for the night. But of course, they had planned the trip well, and they didn't all sleep in the same place. They had to split up between two different inns.

  It was night by the time they stopped; the sun had already set. They only halted when it was no longer wise to press on. It was a particularly dark night, starless, with only that great blind eye hanging in the sky. They carried their luggage to their room—one for the three of them, just like at the academy. Vincent was relieved; it would have been awkward to have to share a room with strangers.

  Still, Vincent sighed. He was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep for as long as he possibly could, even though he hadn't really done anything all day. With everything settled, Vincent turned and let himself fall onto the bed. His eyelids were already heavy.

  "Vincent," Tara called out suddenly, and he forced his eyes to stay open.

  "What was your hometown like?"

  With that simple question, any desire for sleep vanished, and he suddenly tensed up. Where was this coming from?

  "Does it have to be for some stupid reason? Can't I just want to get to know you better?"

  "It was a village," Vincent said. "Nothing special about it. Very small, not many people."

  "That sounds special to me," Tara replied. "I've always lived in the city. On the day of the initiation ceremony, I'd never seen so many people in one place. I was already terrified, but seeing that crowd, I almost turned right around."

  But then his family would have seen he was gone and made a decision. He couldn't just back out like that. That's what pushed him to take a step forward, which turned out to be the best decision of his life. So far, he thought. It remained to be seen how this whole experiment would end, but his life would have been poorer if he hadn't gone through with it, that much was obvious.

  "The place I lived," Ayame said slowly, looking at the wall, "was much smaller than your village, I'm sure of it."

  Vincent swallowed. It wasn't that he hated talking about the past, but it made him uncomfortable. It was a place he couldn't return to, at least not until he graduated from the academy. Maybe not even then, because he had chosen to live as a knight, and everyone there knew he was nothing more than a blacksmith. Regardless of Tara's motives, he preferred not to talk about it. He preferred not to think about the fact that his discovery was inevitable, just a matter of time. He preferred not to think about the consequences, the fear his family must be going through, especially his mother. Or maybe it was better to say, he couldn't think. If he thought too much, he would be too afraid to take a single step forward. For his own sanity, he had to compartmentalize things: Vincent the blacksmith, Vincent the knight. It was a life he had to forge piece by piece, and some pieces simply didn't fit. It was as simple as that.

  "Vincent," Tara insisted, though very gently. "Aren't you going to answer?"

  Vincent closed his eyes, trying to bring his home back into his mind's eye.

  "It wasn't a bad place to live," he began slowly. "So small that everyone knows everyone, and everyone watches each other's backs. Not because they were saints, but for the good of the whole community. Knowing that if you don’t, you might not survive the winter when your turn for hardship comes around... that's a much more realistic motivator than just hoping people will be kind on a whim. Rules, expectations, and consequences. In that sense, I guess it even sounds bad, a little cynical, right?" Vincent laced his hands behind his head. "But I don't mean it that way. It was a good atmosphere."

  He knew what Tara must be thinking: how good could it be if, despite everything, he had left without a backward glance.

  "I would have stayed there the rest of my life, but I felt like I was suffocating." He pushed himself up from lying down to a sitting position on the bed. "Deep in my heart, I always knew I was meant for something... something more. That my life couldn't just be that." Vincent smiled. "And in the end, I guess I was right. After all, I met you two."

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  Tara smiled back at him, and Ayame met his gaze.

  "That's very sweet," Tara said. "In the end, you two have changed my life for the better, too. But I can't imagine having the courage to go against what everyone says you have to be. I was born into my class, a clear path to what I am now. Taking another path... I've never considered it. It's never even crossed my mind, not once."

  "It doesn't have to," Ayame said. "To each their own. The important thing is that you're happy, isn't it?"

  "Yeah," Vincent said, "of course. Besides, if I'd been born a knight, I might be hiding out in a village trying to be a blacksmith right now. Or maybe I never would have thought of another path either. In the end, this is much more exciting."

  "Honor and glory, adventures, risking your neck," Ayame listed dryly.

  Vincent gave a half-hearted laugh, not because he didn't find it funny, but because, damn, he was tired and getting sleepy again.

  "Well, you know what I mean. Ayame, I've always wondered, and since we're on the topic... how did you grow up? What kind of place?" Vincent asked. "You always make comments about not knowing many people, especially before coming to Runehaven, and not understanding many things, only having heard or read about them in books."

  He was being honest. I mean, why not? It was more productive than racking his brain for an answer he didn't have.

  "I understand if you don't want to talk about it," Vincent added, "but I'd like to know how to support you better, as a friend, as a teammate." And as something more, if you'd let me, he thought, and only thought. He bit his tongue; it was embarrassing, and anyway, he couldn't think of a way to say it.

  "It's not that," Ayame said. "It's fine. I lived in a castle with my family and a handful of servants. That's all."

  "They didn't let you out?" Tara asked.

  "It wasn't exactly forbidden, but they weren't fond of me wandering off, in case some human who fancied himself a vampire hunter showed up. But mostly, there just wasn't much around. No people, for miles. Very isolated. So there was nothing to do anyway."

  Whether it was a result of the castle's location or her family's rules, an imposition, the effect was still the same. For most of her life, Ayame had only interacted with her family and servants—people who couldn't say no to her, and with whom she couldn't speak casually either. In short, she'd had no friends and hadn't experienced much for years. He hadn't asked her age. He knew a vampire's physical appearance was deceiving, but considering she had been admitted to Runehaven and the way she spoke, he had a feeling—he was convinced—that she was the age she appeared. In any case, that's what it was. Physically or mentally, that was her age. Maybe even younger. Her life experience was quite limited, even compared to a village blacksmith.

  "I guess you must have been very bored," Vincent said finally.

  Ayame shrugged.

  "I suppose so, but I got used to it. Besides, I always had myself for company, like my own little shadow."

  Speaking of shadows, her face darkened.

  "I'm so sorry," Vincent said.

  "What are you sorry for? I made a choice. I knew the consequences."

  "I have a sister too. I know what it feels like, in a way. Mine is older than me."

  Ayame looked away.

  "You've never told us about her," Tara said.

  "Nope, never. I guess I thought it was time to fix that."

  He was exhausted, but he wanted to keep talking. It was a more personal conversation than they usually had. It was good, refreshing. He already considered them more family than friends, but anything that helped him feel closer to them was welcome.

  "Your sister," Ayame said, "what's her name?"

  "Cecilia."

  "Your older sister, you said. I imagine she was—is—a very good sister."

  "Yeah, she is," Vincent replied. He crossed his arms. "I'm not so much."

  "Don't talk like that," Tara said. "If she really loves you, she'll understand that you wanted to follow your heart, to go your own way. Sooner or later."

  "Yeah, sooner or later. But it would be easier if I was... if I was there with her, if I could explain myself. I didn't even stammer out a goodbye. I didn't even leave a note. I thought about it, but... God, what could I even write? How could I explain the inexplicable? By now, they must think I'm dead. Think that wherever I went, I didn't get far and I'm dead. If I'd told them where I was going, what I planned to do, they would have dragged me out of here by now. And they might have executed me for such a deception, for going against the system."

  Vincent winced.

  "Yeah, I know. But that doesn't make it any easier. You understand that perfectly."

  Tara shook her head.

  "We make a great team, but you still haven't told us anything, missy. Come on, spit it out. Where did you grow up? How?"

  Well, she shrugged.

  "I'm just a boring, normal girl who really liked archery."

  "Yeah, totally normal."

  "Of course." Tara paused for dramatic effect. It worked. "I took out a friend's eye once," she admitted, as if it were nothing.

  "You've got to be kidding me." Vincent clicked his tongue. "And what happened?"

  "They put it back in."

  "Yeah, obviously, but how did it happen?"

  "Archery practice. You know, the classic apple-balanced-on-the-head routine. Except my aim wasn't quite on point that day."

  It could have been a very ugly story, but the three of them burst out laughing like hyenas, as if it were the funniest thing they had ever heard in their lives. Maybe it was.