Vampire Heart

Chapter 5

It was some years later, and Damian and I were inseparable. He was still my tutor and guardian, but only in name. To me, he already was much, much more.

It had started slow. At ten years of age, I had perceived him as a friend, kind and considerate. Later at fifteen, he was my brother, loyal and protective. Today, at nineteen, my heart raced every morning when we met in the library for our lessons. He was teaching me our country’s laws, international diplomacy and economics. My heart continued to beat frantically during our midday stroll through the park, then again for our afternoon horse ride, and yet once more at dinner in the great hall.

For the past few weeks, something seemed to have changed in his manner towards me. I could swear I had seen him glance at me in a keener way. A fortnight ago, for instance, I was painting in the library. I had thought myself alone, but there he was, by the doorway, standing and observing me in silence. He excused himself and retired, supposedly to let me finish the fruit and flower canvas undisturbed. My nerves and thoughts running wild, I struggled with five petals until after dark.

Two days later, we were again in the library, because the weather had worsened and we could not ride.

‘I have brought you a new play by Master Shakespeare,’ he announced delighted, putting a small black book on the table.

‘Oh? What is it about?’ I asked, instantly curious.

‘Two lovers of two warring families,’ Damian answered with a mysterious smile.

I moved to the table and made to pick up the book. Just then, our hands met halfway and our fingers touched above the hard cover. Damian’s hand lingered over mine for a moment, enough for my heart to jump up in my throat and blood to rush to my cheeks. Chuckling nervously, I allowed that he take the small book. I turned and walked to the fireplace, fighting to regain control of my breathing.

‘Shall we read?’ he suggested softly, and seated himself on the high chair beside the hearth.

‘Yes, please,’ I murmured, taking the other seat.

Evidently oblivious to my inner turmoil, Damian began reading in his deep, melodious voice. I struggled very hard to pay attention.

The strangest moment yet had occurred four nights ago. Unable to sleep, I had left my chamber to go down to the kitchens in search for some warm milk. Passing by the library, I saw the door left ajar and the yellow light of a candle flickering inside.

I walked closer and peered in through the narrow opening. Damian was alone, standing in front of the fireplace. He stood quite unmoving, not blinking, as if he were made of stone. Then, all of a sudden, his lips opened.

‘Irena.’

He said my name in the lowest possible whisper, and I thought he would look straight at me. Instead, he closed his eyes tightly, gave a low moan, and his fist hit the mantelpiece three times, until a small chunk of white marble fell to the floor. He ignored it and clasped his hands in his long hair, almost pulling it at the roots.

‘Why me?’ he breathed in pain. ‘Why me?’

I made a step back, my heart hammering in my chest. What had happened? What could have caused his suffering? Obviously, it must have something to do with me.

Damian was always so strong and gentle, so calm and good-natured. Such sudden outburst seemed to me unfitting. I ran back to my chamber and spent the entire night wondering, my mind restlessly seeking answers to unanswerable questions.

The next day, I was prepared to find him in the same desolate mood. When I entered the library however, there he was, dressed in elegant dark blue velvet, his hair smoothed back, the same welcoming smile on his face as always. Had I dreamed it all?