Nobody did that. Nobody bothered.
So I'd watched her hands instead of the sky, too stunned by the simple kindness of being seen to notice I was about to die.
Still, orders restrained me like chains, mandating I stay three steps behind, invisible and unheard, unable to rush ahead even if I realized in time.
Lady Ilyana stood before me, her expression unreadable.
Thank you,I managed to sign, my hands still trembling.
She gave a curt nod, then her fingers moved in response.Are you hurt badly?She glanced around before settling her red gaze back on me.Do you need a healer?
The way she signed it felt oddly familiar, but I couldn’t place why.I will be fine after I drink. But how did you?—
Later,she cut me off with a sharp gesture.Too many eyes here.
She was right. I could feel the vibrations of approaching footsteps through the floor and see other servants casting curious glances our way. To them, it probably looked like Lady Ilyana had simply helped a clumsy stable hand who’d gotten too close to sunrise.
Yet I knew better. What I’d witnessed was impossible.
My quarters. One hour,she signed. Then, without a backward glance, she pivoted and walked away.
Squinting after her, I blinked twice.
Then I spoke, slow and thick, like dragging words out of molasses. “Wait? Where?”
I looked around, hands twitching, before settling on a confused shrug. Was this foreplay? A quest? An execution? And were there snacks involved?
I watched her go, taking note of the way she moved. Too controlled, too aware of her surroundings. Most noble vampiresses glided through life assuming nothing could threaten them. This one moved like someone who’d learned to fight for survival. And she wanted to meet during the day, when the others would be asleep.
Curious and curiouser.
A slap across my cheek grabbed my attention. It barely registered through my skin, but instinct still made me flinch. I turned my gaze to the source. Carissa, the human seneschal who managed the mansion, loomed over me. Calm and cold, her flat brown eyes roaming over me like I was a piece of day-old carrion. Her gray hair was pulled into a tight bun.
I watched her mouth move. “Get up, you idiot boy.”Her lips formed the words with cruel precision. “Do you know the bruble you’ve caused? Letting a high-born lady drag your worthless hide out of the sun? You’re an embarrassment.”
I stopped for a second, trying to figure out whatbrublemeant. A type of soup? A rhythmic dance? Then I looked up; her jaw was set tight and angry. I changed the letters in my head.Trouble. Right. That made much more sense, even if it was less interesting than a new kind of soup.
She shoved a vial of blood into my hand. It wasn’t the rich, warm stuff the nobles drank, but the thin, cold dregs given to the lowest servants. I drank it, grateful despite the taste of old coins and the pain that still burned.
She watched me with her arms crossed. “Well? Are you waiting for a lullaby? Bed. Now,” she mouthed before pivoting and sweeping away.
Before disappearing down the hall, she turned and added, “And when you wake up, you’ll be shoveling horse manure until supper. Maybe that’ll teach you.”
I swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”
I pushed myself up, my body aching, but my thoughts drifted back to Lady Ilyana. Why would she want to see me? We were from different worlds. In the rigid caste system of the vampires, the Born were royalty. Next came the Turned, a necessary evil. And at the very bottom of that pile was me: Turned, flawed, Deaf. I was furniture. A ghost that cleaned stalls and hauled water, easily ignored.
It had its advantages. Because they forgot I existed, they also forgot I could see. I could read their lips from across a courtyard, gleaning secrets they thought were safe. I’d learned more about court politics and hidden rivalries from my place in the shadows than any of them could imagine. They saw a defective stable hand; I saw everything.
I’d witnessed Lady Ilyana bear the sun without pain, something surely not meant to be seen.
And now she wanted to see me. Alone.
Did she mean to silence the stable ghost before he became a voice?
It was possible. Dead vampires don’t decipher secrets.
After a stop to drop off the vial, I made my way back to the servants’ quarters in the basement. Dim lanterns flickered, and the persistent scent of mildew clung to the air.
