We Are All Drawn to What's Broken & Beautiful

Rose Scented Memories

"It is a beautiful jewel," Camille said, practically purring. She reeked of red wine and something metallic and it made Alec's stomach turn.

He was polite enough not to step away, however, holding his breath as she turned the necklace over and over in her hands. The stone matched her evening dress, a deep burgundy, though Alec was positive it had been a lighter scarlet before.

He did not question it. After all, he had pulled it straight out of a painting.

This time, Camille joined them for dinner. Her followers were visibly uneasy as they watched her flirt and laugh as the sun fell beneath the horizon and Alec could not help but feel as if something was about to happen.

He kept his thoughts to himself, however, paying more attention to his wine glass this time.

The rest of the vampires paid him no mind, too busy watching their queen with wary gazes. Their glasses were left untouched and the moment the sunlight faded from the outside rooms, they rose as one.

Camille did not seem to notice, too busy with the poor fool with her on his lap. Her smile was bewitching as she leaned down, eyes hungry.

Alec glanced up from his food when a speck of green light appeared on the tablecloth. He looked down the table, startled. The fading light outside had caught the jewel on Camille's ring, sending light flaring across the table in little speckles.

It was an unusual gem, given Camille's love of the colour red.

This one was a great emerald, set in what looked like the maws of a snake. Alec was idly reminded that Camille was no ordinary vampire. She was a sorceress too.

He wondered if the ring was her source of power, if it was what helped her curse Magnus all those years ago.

Thinking about Magnus made his stomach clench and he dipped his head, appetite lost. The memory of Magnus kissing Camille rose unbidden to his mind and he had to force down the bile in his throat.

"What's the matter, Alexander?" Camille purred.

"Do not call me that," Alec snapped before he realised that was precisely the reaction Camille wanted.

"Oh, poor dear. Does it remind you of Magnus? Is he the only one who can call you that?" Camille cooed, stroking a red nail down the cheek of the man whose lap she was in.

Alec bristled at the sound of Magnus' name on her lips.

She had no right to speak his name. Not when she only wanted him as a toy, a plaything and an object that she owned.

-

Magnus thought it was odd Camille did not insist on having dinner with him. Though dinner with her meant he ate while she got drunk and high off his blood.

He traced the scars on the inside of his elbow absently, picking at his food.

Raphael came and went, staying only long enough to leave a tray at his bedside before vanishing into the dark halls. Magnus twirled his fork, watching sparks of azure dance off his fingertips.

He had not used his magic since he arrived here. Camille always drained him far too much for him to even think about using it. It felt odd like he was in a stranger's skin as the blue sparks trailed over his skin.

How had he come into possession of magic? As far as his fuzzy mind remembered, he had been born without them.

Idly, he wondered if Camille was to blame. She was to blame for a lot of things that happened to him after all. But he could not find it in himself to be angry and afraid.

Perhaps the monotony of staying in her castle had simply seeped into him, blanking out any sort of emotion he could possibly feel. Magnus could not remember the last time he had felt anything intensely, besides the usual disdain he felt for Camille.

Her dressing was as tacky as her false sweetness and her beauty was not true. Not to his eyes. Magnus was certain he had seen a girl, a human girl who could surpass her by miles. He just could not remember her name.

Perhaps he had even taken the girl himself. The thoughts swirled in his mind, the image of a red dress swirling as if the wearer was dancing, windblown hair the colour of ebony and a girl's scream.

Magnus blinked slowly. He reached for his mirror, lifting it up to his face.

Had she been afraid of his eyes?

Golden cat eyes blinked back at him and he recoiled. Raising his free hand, he snapped his fingers, azure sparks clouding around his face before it settled.

His eyes were brown again.

As the sky grew darker outside, the soup level in the tureen diminished. Magnus picked over the sourdough, his eyelids growing heavier. He took a sip of his wine, barely tasting it as an overwhelming wave of fatigue swept over him.

Had his magic done that? Just a few tiny sparks and he was suddenly so tired he could fall asleep right then and there?

For the briefest moment, Magnus resisted. The scent of roses passed under his nostrils and he stirred, eyes widening as another fragment of memory drifted into his mind.

Roses, as red as blood blooming from bushes so dark they were practically shadow. The smell of rain mingling with the taste of his tears. The pain piercing his heart as he stumbled and slipped on wet stone and grass.

Blue sparks flashed in his line of vision and thunder roared overhead. A crack of lightning split the sky.

Magnus jerked back, his wine clattering back onto the tray. It reeked, the smell burning for but a moment before he sank back into the pillows, exhaling heavily.

Sleep dragged at the edge of his mind, urging him to just close his eyes, to slip into unconsciousness even as cold wine spilt over his robes, soaking into the mattress. He had only strength enough to glare at the burgundy liquid staining his skin before the darkness consumed him entirely.