I leap away from the pool of blood. It's dry, and the streak leading towards the door suggests that the victim was dragged away well before we arrived. I doubt whoever stayed here would be allowed to live peacefully in the village. This may be all that remains of them above ground.

Rahlan closes the door and walks around the maroon patch. He steps onto the raised stone platform at the far end of the room. "First time inside a castle?" he asks.

I nod.

He gestures broadly around the room. "I present the main hall – for judging quarrels between peasants." His hand lands on a wooden chair with a high back. "This shall be my throne. If you're good, I may allow you to sit on my lap." He smirks.

"Thrones are for kings, my lord."

The smirk quickly fades. He presses open a set of double doors, and I follow after him. The doors close on their own behind us, assisted by gravity and their angled mounting.

"The living area," he says. A built-in fireplace surrounded by cushioned furniture fills one half of the large room, and the other half is occupied by a long stainwood table with eight matching chairs. A set of curtained windows overlook the castle gate. This room alone is as big as my entire house.

I step after him into a narrow passage lined with three doors. He opens one, and I peer inside. A large window shines orange light over a pristine wooden desk and matching bed.

"The servants' quarters," he says.

This was for a servant?

He continues down the passage. I hurry to press the doors open to glance in each room – all as beautifully furnished as the last.

We enter what appears to be a kitchen with wooden cabinets and limestone counters. Rahlan pulls back a line of thin doors in the wall, revealing the living room from before. "This is where you will prepare my meals."

"You'll love my veggie stew," I say.

His eyes narrow. I'll cook him as many vegetarian meals as his heart desires.

I return to the living room. A sparkle on the wall catches my attention. I creep closer and can hardly believe my eyes at the sight. A golden doorknob. It looks too valuable to touch.

Rahlan doesn't share my hesitation. He opens the door, breaking my trance. "The royal bedroom," he says.

I'm taken aback by the sight. The dim sunset passes through the stained-glass windows, lighting the room in a myriad of beautiful colors.

The bed looks fit for a king, with decorated thin posts in each corner to support a colorful canopy. I run my fingers over the elegant carvings in the posts. Dragons and knights dueling, their fire and swords embossed with gold in so much detail that I could search it for hours and still have more to discover. Jacob would've loved this.

I sit on the bed and run my fingers over the fine fabric.

Rahlan unpacks his bag onto the dressing table. My eyes follow his hands as he picks out each item – the sextant, the waterskin and my biscuit tin.

I grab the tin and press open the lid. The honey biscuit waits inside – my gift for Jacob. The gift he'll never receive.

He was going to be so impressed that I brought him a honey biscuit. He always used to bring me gifts from his travels, and I could never repay the favor. Now that I'd gone on my first long journey, I'd have something special for him.

He was never particularly excited for the meals I'd cook. Vegies weren't his favorite, so on Saturday's I'd take special effort to make him a vegie-free meal, whether that meant trading at the market for meat or churning butter for bread. He'd often try trick me into thinking it was Saturday on a weekday, hoping I'd cook one of his favorite dishes. I used to go along with it sometimes, just to see him try to hide his grin when he'd thought he'd gotten away with it.

I miss his mischievous smile. I wish more than anything that I could talk to him again, just to tell him how my day was. He'd listen to me complain about the farmer and the other workers for hours and never grow tired. Whenever I was sewing, he'd be so curious to know if I was making something for him. Silly. It was always for him.

A tear drops into the tin, and another one hits the biscuit. Who's going to listen to my stories about my day now? Who's going to travel for days to trade so I never go hungry? Who's going to comfort me on those rainy nights when I miss mom?

"You weren't saving it for yourself," Rahlan says.

I shake my head, barely able to regulate my breathing. The thought of eating it makes my stomach twist up in knots. It's Jacobs. Why did he have to die? I'd give up everything to have him back. I'd happily spend the rest of my life serving a vampire if it meant he'd have been spared. He didn't deserve this.

The bed sinks as Rahlan sits beside me. He rests his hand on my shoulder. "'Tis okay."

I shoot up and shove his hand away. "No! You don't get to say that!" I scream with a broken voice. "You murdered him, just like you murder every other human who gets in your way without any thought, without a care!"

He stands, but I hold my ground. "Yes. I ended your brother's life. I wanted to make all of them suffer as I had suffered."

"You belong in hell!" I scream at him, tears running down my cheeks. How could he do that? How can he be so content with the destruction he's caused?

He grabs my arm above the bandage, bringing my blurry gaze up to him. "Now I see, they do not suffer in death." He threads my hair behind my ear. "All I did was hurt the sweetest girl I've ever known."

Another sob escapes me. Whenever things were tough, Jacob was there to tell me it would be okay. As long as we're together, it would be okay.

Rahlan pulls me close and wraps his arms around me, holding me in his embrace. "I wish I could bring your brother back. I wish I could reverse the scars on your heart. I know that my words mean little to you now, but know that I truly am sorry."

I sob into his shirt. I shouldn't take comfort in Rahlan's hug, but I don't care anymore. It doesn't matter what is right or proper, what I should or shouldn't do. I just want this hole to go away.

Jacob's gone forever. I'll never see his smile or hear his laugh again. Everything would be okay if we were together, but we're not. We'll never be together again.

Rahlan's arms wrap tightly around my back, pressing me into him. Jacob hardly got time to live. He didn't get to see this beautiful castle. He would have been admiring every arch in the lord's hall, telling me the meaning of every piece of furniture and explaining how the golden dragons were embedded into the pillars. He should be here. He's the one who'd truly appreciate this place, not me.

Rahlan gently rocks back and forth, supporting my weight with his embrace.

* * * * * * * *

The sun is gone, and the room is dark. I don't know how long I cried for, but my face is warm and wet, and my back is sweating where my skin touches his.

I nudge away from him, and he releases me. My whole front half is warm, like I've been lying face down on a bed for hours.

He kneels to be at eye level with me. "I will be just outside the door," he says.

I nod, wiping my face.

He leaves the room, gently closing the door behind him.

I'm feeling a bit better now. I know I have to move forward without Jacob. After everything, I still have my life, and he wouldn't want me to wallow in sorrow forever. He was a good man.

I pull the corner of the stain glass window. It rolls into the wall, revealing a second layer of normal glass behind it. This room overlooks vast rows of grassy hills, dimly lit in the moonlight. Small thatch-roofed houses glow in the distance – Litton village, the place this castle was once built to protect.

The castle wall looked so much taller from the outside, but this hill elevates me above it, allowing me to look down upon the ramparts. The four vampire soldiers are nowhere to be seen. They must have moved inside the roofed towers as the night became cold.

I press open the door to the living room. The fire's lit, and Rahlan's shuffling around in the kitchen. I take a seat on the couch where the fire can warm my arms.

Rahlan sits beside me, handing me a steaming mug with a peculiar smell.

"Thanks," I whisper.

I take a sip and immediately regret it. My face scrunches up as the awful warm liquid coats my mouth. I wince and force myself to swallow the foul beverage, and the scratchy aftertaste makes me cough.

"What is this?" I ask, still not fully recovered. "It tastes like hot water mixed with herbs."

"It could be." He shrugs. "I'm not too familiar with your human cuisine."

He just mixed hot water with a bunch of random spices he found in the kitchen. The thought of him digging through a spice cabinet in confusion is amusing. At least he tried. I'll have to teach him how to make tea.

The mug warms my fingers. I'll dispose of it when he's not looking.

His gaze is on the fire, watching the flames lick the decorated metal.

"Rahlan, I've been wondering why."

His eyes land on me, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Why did..." I trail off, unsure of my words. "Why did you do it?"

"Your brother was a Huntsman," he says.

"But why do you hate them?"

He looks back at the fire. "Forget it."

He collected the eyes of the three men I was traveling with, so they must've been Huntsmen too. His hate for the Huntsmen is the reason I was captured, and it's the reason my brother died. It's everything.

"I just want to understand," I mumble.

"I said forget it." He stands, turning to leave.

How can he dismiss me for wanting to know why Jacob died? I jump to my feet. "Is it because the Huntsmen are brave enough to fight back? You only like humans small and weak like me, humans you can control?"

"No!" He whips around. "You stupid girl. They do not fight back. They are the Huntsmen. Hunters. They came into my father's land and slaughtered him in his own garden – an old graying man who had never wronged a human in his life. Is that brave? They mutilated his body, cutting out his eyes. Is that heroic? They carved 'monster' across his chest with a dagger. Does that encourage you to praise them further?"

I grab my own hands. That can't be. Ivan's not a killer. My brother's not a killer. They protect people. I take a step back.

The door slams shut, breaking my trance. Rahlan's closed himself in the bedroom.

There are many Huntsmen. Jacob couldn't have been involved. Sure, he acted tough when negotiating with strangers, but he was sweet, not the kind to sneak up on someone to murder them. How would he even know how to use a sword? He wouldn't be able to hide such a terrible deed from me, let alone live with it himself. It's impossible.

But Ivan's their leader. How could he have not known about an assassination by his own men? I remember him always being kind to me, but I was eleven the last time I saw him. I'm just fooling myself pretending that I know he's above something like that.

I hurry to the bedroom door, listening for any sound from Rahlan. The huntsman who escaped down the river called Rahlan a monster, and I called him a monster too. I knew it upset him, that's why I said it. He wasn't simply insulted. I was mocking his father's death. What kind of a person does something like that?

I knock my knuckles against the door, but there's no answer.

"Rahlan- Rahlan, I'm sorry."

Silence.

I try twist the golden doorknob, but it's locked. Pressing my ear against the wood reveals nothing. I slide down the door, still listening.

There's not a word, not a step on the floor, not a creak from the bed, nothing to indicate his presence.

I should never have said those words. I should never have pushed him. He shouldn't have to agonize because of my thoughtlessness.

"My mom died when I was thirteen," I say to the door, not knowing if he can hear me. "It hurt. I pushed everyone away. Despite that, my brother consoled me, and though I hated to admit it at the time, it helped. It helped a lot."

I pause for a moment, listening for any sound of him.

"Rahlan, I'm here. Don't push me away."

My head leans back against the door as I give up trying to listen for minute sounds. He's in there by himself, grief-stricken, because of my insensitive words. I curl my knees to my chest and huddle up to keep warm.

A latch clicks, and I jump to my feet. The door opens, and the firelight reveals that his eyes are misted over. He looks nothing like the man I've known for the past few weeks. There's no smug smirk or arrogant demeanor. He looks tired.

I take his hand in mine and tug him back to sit on the couch near the fire.

He watches the flames, his face expressionless, his gaze dull.

I lean my head against his side. All this time he's moved with such conviction, so sure of his actions every step of the way. He'd just convinced himself that making Ivan pay would make things better.

He lifts his arm, wrapping it around my side and pulling me close to him. I know he's my captor, but that doesn't mean I want him to be unhappy.

A log cracks in the fire, splitting into smaller pieces. I glance up at Rahlan. His head lays back against the couch with his eyes closed. He drove Mittens through the night while I slept. He needs rest.