Page 85 of Halfblood Deceived

Diana downed the rest of her cocoa and met Kamilla’s eyes. “Would it be alright if I stay around until Aella wakes up? I’d like to meet her. Unless you think I should wait to not upset her.”

Kamilla thought about it for a moment. “I think we’d make things worse by hiding something so crucial from Aella. You know better than anyone what it is like to be considered unworthy of the truth. We should give her the choice to meet you at least. And you are always welcome in our home, Diana. I thought you knew that.”

A touch of color returned to Diana’s cheeks. “I don’t like to presume.”

Kam smiled, stretching her hand to place a lock of unruly hair behind Diana’s ear. “You can presume all you want when it comes to our friendship.”

Diana’s throat bobbed, her pupils dilating. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Kamilla answered.

Zeydan shared a speculative—definitely nosy look—with everyone else at the table. Aylana hid a smile behind her cup. Kerian looked torn between reluctant amusement and fond exasperation.

“So all we can do now is wait,” Diana said, biting her lip anxiously, just like Aella did.

“Indeed,” Zeydan agreed.

And so they waited. For almost a day.

CHAPTER 20

Aella woke up when the sky was gray, full of clouds promising rain. Still sore, but much less than before, she took a shower and put on a set of clean sweats, a hoodie, and socks she found in the dresser Kamilla had declared was hers.

She still felt awkward accepting the hospitality of the vampire princess, but she had no other options.

Feeling suddenly stifled, Aella fully opened the drapes that half-covered the open French doors, leaning against the wall to watch the sunrise. It had always been her favorite time of the day, the promise of new beginnings—a promise that had always remained as broken as she was now.

Reluctant to start crying again, she took measured breaths, just like Zeydan taught her. Shame made her skin prickle as she vaguely remembered struggling against Kamilla, then Aylana and Sebastian after she woke up from her nightmare. Part of her, a tiny part of her, had been aware that it had been a nightmare, a memory, but she couldn’t control herself. Adrenaline-fueled horror had taken her prisoner and locked her up inside her own body.

Would that ever stop?

Perhaps not.

She could still hear Aiko’s screams in the back of her mind.

She hated Micah for killing an entire family.

She wished she had the blind courage Zeydan possessed or the strategic mind Kamilla had. So that she could avenge the girl who was playing Scrabble with her parents one second, and losing everything, including her life, in the next.

Aella couldn’t help but mourn for what she’d lost as well—Isaiah, Ez, Charity, and Claudia. Isaiah hurt the most. Aella had known, simply known down to her core, that Isaiah was different when she met him. Around the other males, she had always felt intimidated, and ashamed when their eyes strayed down from her face, no matter if her clothes were two times the correct size.

Isaiah had never looked at her inappropriately, screamed at her, or mocked her appetite. He was quiet, thoughtful, and a bit of a rebel when it came to his music and reading tastes. He had never mistreated Claudia.

The question she had been trying to avoid crystallized in her mind—how many innocent vampires had Isaiah killed?

She couldn’t imagine him torturing females and killing children. He’d tried to save Tatsuki, Anna, and Aiko as well. But what of others? Scary-looking vampires like Andreas, refined, beautiful males who hid behind cocky facades like Kerian and Sebastian, or regal, nonchalant females like Kamilla.

Aella found it hard to stop feeling heartbroken over Isaiah’s death even if he’d done awful things in the past, and didn’t that make her a terrible person?

A soft knock on the door took her out of her maudlin thoughts.

“Come in,” she murmured.

Kamilla entered the room and approached her, looking hauntingly beautiful with her river of blonde hair reaching her waist and waving at the ends. She was wearing a deep green dress and high heels. “How are you feeling, Aella?”

“Tired, but better,” she admitted. “I’m sorry about all the trouble I’ve caused you.”

Kamilla squeezed Aella’s hand reassuringly, her skin warm against Aella’s cold palm. “You must never apologize for being traumatized, my dear. And you are no trouble at all.”

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