Chapter One

It could be worse.

It really could.

Everyone could be dead.

Well, technically, I suppose we were, but we could be more dead. Irrevocably dead.

This was better.

I supposed anyway. Leaning against one of the olive trees in the courtyard, I stared up at the moon, a sardonic crescent in the sky.

I used to blame Edward.

If he hadn't broken up with me. If he hadn't overreacted. If he hadn't lied. If he hadn't attracted their attention.

Then I blamed myself.

If I hadn't decided at seventeen that forever was what I wanted.

If I hadn't completely shut down.

If I hadn't jumped.

If he hadn't gone to Italy...if I hadn't gone to Italy.

Maybe things would be different.

Six years later, I was more circumspect.

It wasn't anybody's fault. Or maybe it was everyone's. Either way, I couldn't change what was.

The courtyard was surprisingly quiet. It was late autumn, the trees nearly bare and the crackle of evening frost harsh on the ground. If I closed my eyes, I could hear the rustle of cloaks on the stone in the castle. It was much quieter than usual.

Masters.

It still felt bizarre to think about.

I had a Master. Three technically, but Marcus was all but a vegetable and Caius, thankfully, ignored me for the most part. Aro, on the other hand…

I blew out a breath I didn't need, almost wishing for the cloud from when I was human. Something to make me feel real. A breeze that would have sent me yelping and ducking into the recesses of my coat as a human ruffled my hair and tugged mockingly at the fabric of the blouse I wore as part of my uniform. My cloak was draped over a branch above me. I didn't like to wear it all the time. It still felt wrong.

I also worried about the hem that brushed the floor, despite that fact that my tripping days were long over. As was the evidence of them.

My scars were all gone. The mark on my temple from where I fell against the corner of a bookshelf in sixth grade.

The notch on my chin from falling off my bicycle when I was six.

The white line on my left index finger from getting a fishing hook stuck in my knuckle during the summer Charlie tried to teach me to fish.

Even the scars from where I broke my leg seven years ago and all of the small featherlight scars from the broken glass of the mirror in Arizona.

They hadn't faded, they just disappeared, leaving behind smooth, marble perfection.

Except for the small crescent scar on my wrist.

It no longer gleamed against my human skin, instead it was just a raised line, a difference in texture under my fingers as the thumb of my other hand rubbed back and forth over it.

It helped sometimes. It felt grounding. Helping me remember that this wasn't all I was. That I had been someone else once.

The wind changed, blowing across my face. I smelled power, old blood, and something more sinister, like the chill of walking alone in the dark.

I didn't have time to grab my cloak, he was too close.

"Signore." 'Master' not mister. Never directly by their names. My mangled Italian was marginally improving, but it still sounded vaguely Spanish, not lilting the way it should. I supposed it would improve with practice.

"Isabella."

He glided forward and I bowed slightly, hand over my heart. It was a traditional greeting for nobility that had fallen out of practice more than three hundred years ago, but still enforced among the Guard.

Not that I was a Guard. I didn't seem to have much of a purpose, really.

"Do you enjoy the courtyard?" His voice was soft, the English accented, flavored with something older than Italian. His own cloak whispered over the stones of the pathway, his hands clasped together while his cold, perfect face masked with polite interest. As though he really cared about my answer.

I started to nod, then corrected myself. "Yes, Signore."

Not completely true, but easier than explaining why I wasn't inside.

"You spend a great deal of time alone." There was a note of reproach in his voice, I'd heard a similar tone from Renee years ago when I wasn't making as many friends in Phoenix as she'd hoped.

I didn't say anything, was there anything to say? It was true, I spent the majority of my time alone when I wasn't required to be with the others. I wasn't a Guard, but I had to learn basic self-defense, and Italian. And I fed with the Guard; I flinched at the reminder that triggered a soft burning in my throat.

"Are you regretting your decision to join us?"

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Nervous, I cleared my throat. "No, Signore."

I couldn't really. They were going to kill us all, my parents, the Cullens, me. This was the only choice I really had.

He hummed slightly like he didn't believe me and stepped, almost gliding, forward. I could see the toes of his expensive Italian shoes. I didn't look up. "Are you pining then?"

"Pining?" I spoke before thinking, then hurriedly finished "-Signore."

"Look at me, Isabella." I reluctantly raised my gaze, trying hard not to tremble. He made a quiet considering noise in his throat, almost like a purr, looking down at me with dark red eyes older than I could ever contemplate being. "Yes, do you miss the Cullens?"

I shook my head. I didn't want him to think about the Cullens. I didn't want to think about the Cullens. I couldn't. Not after what I'd become. I wouldn't be able to look Carlisle in the face. "No, Signore."

Pursing his lips, he tilted his head politely. As though this were a normal conversation and he wasn't completely psychotic. And fully capable of killing me, the Cullens, or anyone else he so chose. "Is it your human family then? Your parents? Do you have siblings?"

His eyes almost glowed with greedy curiosity. Nothing about him seemed remotely human. I was still prey even among monsters it seemed.

I shook my head harder. "No, no. I'm an only child."

Poor Charlie. The Cullens had to convince my dad that I'd died in an accident.

My eyes burned, but I couldn't cry; a mixed blessing.

"Come now, noctula. There must be some reason for this melancholy. Is it homesickness? Do you miss the Americas?"

What was his fascination? I was a lackluster human and a lackluster vampire. My gift was a disappointment, I could only protect myself and that was an unconscious defense. Was he regretting his investment?

A sick feeling filled my stomach. Was he going to send me to the Cullens and renege on the deal? Take Alice instead? Or Jasper?

I scrambled trying to think of something, anything to distract him.

"Um-chocolate."

My idiocy reverberated in the courtyard around us. Not only had I spoken louder than I intended, but it was literally the one aspect of human life, I'd never missed. I missed salt more than sugar, really. Lamenting french fries was never something I'd imagined myself doing, but neither was having a conversation with a millennia old walking nightmare.

"...Chocolate?"

Relieved that he hadn't immediately called my bluff, I dug through my memories for anything surrounding chocolate; he sounded slightly confused. I kept going; if I was going to dig this hole of lies, it needed to be deep enough to bury myself. "I-when I was a kid, we used to live in the desert. Out in Arizona. On nights that were cool like this, we-Renee and I- used to sit outside with cups of hot chocolate."

Technically true, but it was only the once and Renee had made what she called champurrado, Mexican hot chocolate, I remember it being slightly spicy. I'm pretty sure Renee laced hers with something because after her first cup, she nearly fell off the porch trying to 'touch the stars', but hopefully he'd buy it.

Aro slowly nodded, his dark hair falling like silk over his shoulder. "I walked this earth for a thousand years before ever hearing of 'cacao' and another fifteen hundred before ever hearing of 'chocolate'. Yet you are not the first vampire I have heard lament its loss."

I nodded quietly, but I had no answer for that. What could I say? The staggering weight of his age was paralyzing.

"I was under the impression that chocolate was consumed in solid form. What is 'hot chocolate'?"

I stared at him. Was he really asking? Why did he seek me out? Did he know I was lying?

I didn't speak, just swallowed hard and trying to ignore the way he watched my throat as he waited, unblinking for my answer. Nothing about him was comforting or even vaguely reminiscent of human. The predator in him had consumed all else.

I crossed my arms over my belly, a habit left over from being an awkward human. Luckily, nerves couldn't make me vomit anymore. "Um, it's a drink. You take powdered chocolate and add either hot water or milk. Sometimes you can add other spices, like cinnamon or nutmeg, or vanilla. Some recipes even have alcohol like brandy."

I could dimly hear a voice in the back of my head screaming at me to shut up. Aro just watched me placidly as I started to get carried away. Word vomit followed me into vampirism apparently. "My Grandma Swan always made the best hot chocolate, though. She would take vanilla ice cream," my hand mimed taking a scoop and putting it into an imaginary mug; I could almost feel the enamel, stamped with 'best grandkid' beneath my chubby little girl fingers, "and then add just a little bit of water and put it in the microwave. Then she would stir in two packets of hot chocolate and cover the top with marshmallows and-"

I stopped, thinking about the quiet evenings as a kid when I couldn't sleep and my tirelessly patient grandma would get up and fix us hot chocolate and turn on late night reruns of 'I Love Lucy' until I fell asleep on the sofa, a ring of hot chocolate around my mouth.

I blinked and dropped my head, my hair falling forward to shield my face from the ancient vampire watching me with curiosity. I shuffled and wrapped my arms around my belly again. Not for the first time, I wished my gift had a physical instead of a psychic application. I wanted to be invisible. He was staring at me again, one dark eyebrow raised. It was the same stare from when I was human. Like he wasn't exactly sure what to make of me. His eyes trailed over my face, down to my arms. "You were close with your grandmother?"

"Yeah, I just. Sorry, I guess I got carried away. I can't believe I remembered all that."

I hadn't thought about Grandma Swan in years, but once I remembered the taste of hot chocolate, everything else came through in a rush.

Aro chuckled and reached out, his fingers brushed against my hair, pushing it behind my ear. "It happens, young one. Enjoy your memories, for some, they are all they have."

Was that his attempt at empathy, or was he warning me?

Were memories going to be all he left me with, if I continued to mope?

I tensed further as his hand brushed the sensitive point under my ear before pulling away. His eyes flashed, he looked hungry. Could vampires eat other vampires? Or was he remembering the taste of my human blood?

He brought his eyes back to mine and smiled in what he must consider a kind, fatherly way. Like the way he smiled at Jane. It didn't reach his calculating eyes. "There is court tomorrow. You will attend."

"Yes, Signore." It was the only answer.

A smirk crossed his lips as he looked over my shoulder. "I expect you to be dressed properly, in your cloak."

"Yes, Signore." At least he seemed to be amused, one long, elegant hand reached out and I barely managed not to flinch.

The branch rustled as he pulled my cloak free and draped it around my shoulders. His fingers lingered just a moment at the clasp at my throat before he released me and stepped back."Although you can no longer catch a chill, too much night air isn't good for young ladies. Retire now."

"Yes Signore." I bowed again and fled the garden, not even trying to keep a human pace.

I ended up in the library and folded myself into an armchair. I didn't read, just looked out the window watching the moon move across the sky.

It could be worse.