The Righteous by Renée Ahdieh

Author:Renée Ahdieh [Ahdieh, Renée]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2021-12-07T00:00:00+00:00

For never was a story of more woe.

Romeo and Juliet,

William Shakespeare

Sébastien Saint Germain stood over the body of the monstrous wildcat and sighed.

He hoped the creature would live. It had been a risk to hunt it, for though it resembled a cougar, it was much larger and stronger in truth. Unpredictable, with a keen sense of intelligence Bastien had yet to encounter in the swamps beyond New Orleans, where he preferred to feast on unsuspecting gators. Something about the coolness of their blood tasted most refreshing.

This beast’s whiskers were long, its fangs nearly the width of his palm. Scraps of fabric hung from Bastien’s shoulder where it had clawed at him with frightening tenacity.

Another minute or so, and the beast might have bested him.

He supposed it made sense. For one, the fey wildcat was nearly the size of pony, its musculature thick and broad, with a ridge of sharpened bone running down its spine.

Bastien grunted as he massaged his collarbone, waiting for the jagged wound there to heal beneath the light of the half-moon set high in a pale sky. He forced his sharpened senses to drown out the sounds of the forest so that he might listen for the low thud of the beast’s heart.

He heard nothing. He crouched down and studied its massive chest.

Remorse bloomed around Bastien’s heart. It had been a point of pride that he’d only killed one of the creatures residing in the Sylvan Vale’s enchanted forest, and that had been an accident.

He hated the idea of striking down a magnificent beast like this one. It had proven a worthy foe. What remained of Bastien’s ivory silk shirt was stained with both of their blood. Crimson mud caked his bare hands and feet. Usually he did not make such a mess when he ate. Of all the vampires in the Court of the Lions, Jae was the one to feast with the sort of abandon that ran counter to how he comported himself in public. But that was often the way of it. The most proper blood drinker was usually the first one lost to insatiable hunger.

Bastien ran a hand along the back of his neck, his fingertips brushing across the scruff at his jaw and the short black hair on his scalp. He didn’t need to consult a mirror to know he was a frightful mess.

He wanted to return home. In more ways than one.

With another sigh, Bastien looked toward the Sylvan Vale’s odd excuse for a night sky. A land of perpetual sun even past twilight, the world of the summer fey boasted a blue half-moon, one of three in existence. The other two spanned opposite ends of the Sylvan Wyld, the wintry counterpart to the Sylvan Vale. The glowing half-moon above should have been glorious to behold, but it only cast Bastien’s worries into sharper relief.

He was not where he was supposed to be. Far from the world he’d known his entire life. A part of him had wondered if, with time, he might feel more at home here.

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