Page 77 of How to Dump a Vampire

Thorn floats down beside me, her descent as graceful as a feather caught in a gentle breeze. She looks every bit the savior they didn’t know they needed, and my chest swells with an odd mix of pride and protectiveness.

“Draven,” she says, her hand finding mine, grounding me, “we need to decide what to do with them.” Her chin tilts toward the king and crowned prince, who are slowly regaining their bearings, looking more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen.

“Right.” The word comes out sharper than I intend. I take a deep breath, tasting the new freedom in the air. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“Propose away,” she says, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“Let’s not kill them. My youngest sister and mother, it would break them,” I plead. “Imprison them below. Strip them of their titles and power. It’ll be a living lesson for anyone else who gets big ideas about controlling the masses.”

“Mercy from a vampire,” she muses, her gaze searching mine. “That’s not the usual narrative.”

“Hey, I’m all about breaking stereotypes,” I quip, but my heart hammers against my ribs, waiting for her verdict.

She studies the fallen royals, their faces etched with uncertainty. “For you,” she begins, “and for the sake of your mother and sisters, I’ll agree to leniency, but, Draven, theycan’t go unpunished.”

“Understood.” I nod, feeling a rush of gratitude. “Thank you, Thorn.”

“Let’s hope this is the right call.” Her fingers tighten around mine, a silent promise linking us together.

“Either way,” I say with a lopsided grin, “we’ll face the consequences together.”

Somehow, standing there with Thorn, the half witch who stormed into my life and turned it inside out, I know we’ll handle whatever comes our way.

Thorn’s fingers weave through the air, spinning invisible threads that bind the fallen royals’ hands behind their backs. The glyphs on her arms shimmer with a gentle luminescence, reflecting her newfound resolve.

“All right, your highnesses,” she says with a commanding yet calm tone, “let’s take a walk to your new quarters.”

As we escort the once-mighty king and his heir, my father and brother, toward the castle’s depths, I can’t help but admire her—Thorn, the witch who defied every odd and now chooses mercy over vengeance.

28

Draven

The incessant babble of the war room buzzes like a hive of disgruntled bees, each council member more agitated than the last. I lean against the cool stone wall, the tension in the air prickling against my skin as if it knows something I don’t.

“Execution,” Councilor Vargas spits, his hawk-like gaze flitting over the assembly. “Let the traitors feel the kiss of silver. It’s the only language these dogs understand.” His words are met with solemn nods from some corners, while others exchange uneasy glances.

“Exile,” Lady Marcelline counters, her smooth-as-silk voice laced with an edge that can slice through bone. “Banish them beyond the kingdom’s borders. Let their immortal lives be a slow torment insolitude.” Her proposal hangs in the air, a thinly veiled compromise between mercy and cruelty.

“Rehabilitation,” Elder Jasper ventures, stroking his white beard thoughtfully. “We must seek to heal, not just punish. Let us guide them back to the light. Let Draven take the throne in their absence while they are given a chance to change.” His optimistic tone seems almost naive amidst the sea of hardened faces.

“Draven.” Thorn’s voice floats toward me, a whisper meant for my ears alone.

I nod subtly, feeling her hand squeeze mine beneath the table. Her touch is a reminder of our shared dream, a life far from the suffocating walls of the castle.

“Enough!” I finally burst out, my voice slicing through the barrage of arguments.

A hush falls over the room, all eyes on me. Even my mother, the queen, arches an eyebrow in surprise.

“Look, I get it,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I felt, “everyone’s got their knickers in a twist over this mess, but let’s not forget that we’re talking about people here, not just pawns on a chessboard.”

I shoot a brief glance at Thorn, her steady gaze bolstering my resolve.

“Remember that they are still a loved father, husband and brother,” I continue, threading my fingers through hers while casting a quick glance at my mother. “They are safe in the dungeons below. All of you should be well aware of the things we have in place to stop any escape attempts. Many of them devices of your own creation. And frankly…” I smirked, despite the gravity of the situation. “I’d rather spend my days enjoying her company than sitting on some dusty throne, playing judge and jury to every squabble that breaks out.”

Murmurs ripple through the council members as they digest my words. Some look shocked, others contemplative, but all seem to recognize the sincerity in my voice.

“Life’s too short for endless power plays,” I quip, hoping my humor will ease the tension, “especially when there’s magic to explore, love to cherish, and, let’s be honest, better food to eat outside these walls. My father and brother will stay where they are.”

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