An hour later, I flexed my fingers. Flakes of gray ash scattered like dead snow from my knuckles, falling in tiny spirals to the floor. The angry red welts on my forearms had faded to pink lines that would vanish soon.
The mansion had settled into its daytime bustle. I slipped into the kitchen, where the day staff prepared food for the human residents.
“Pitcher for Lady Ilyana,” I attempted to say to one of the chefs. The words tumbled out as my tongue fumbled, clumsy and thick as though coated in peanut butter. For all I knew, it might have come out sounding likepick me a baby llama. I pointed upward to the guest wing, letting my expression convey equal parts urgency and boredom.
Without looking up, she slid a silver pitcher across the stone counter. The lie sat cleanly in my mouth. Nobles made requests at odd hours, and servants who questioned them didn’t last long.
Now, I had a legitimate reason to be anywhere in the mansion. Even where I shouldn’t be.
“Thirsty,”Nibs reported. I lingered beside the sink.While the head cook’s knife kept its steady rhythm, I let the mouse out for a quick drink. He dipped his tiny paws, took a few eager sips, and then darted right back into my pocket.
I navigated corridors that stirred up memories I’d rather forget. The route to the guest quarters took me past the servants’ hall, where I had first learned sign language from a servant who’d lost his hearing in the coal mines.
Those had been simpler times, when all I had to do was avoid the wrong end of a vampire’s temper. Now, I was one of them, trapped in this cursed existence.
Yet at least I was still myself, unlike some of the others. I had seen what prolonged vampirism could do. How it leeched away everything human and good, leaving only hunger and cruelty behind.
As if my musing mind had summoned her, when I rounded the corner into the guest wing, a figure blocked my path. Razira.
My breath caught. Before the change, Razira had been a house servant, devout and kind. A follower of Aetherius, she’d found joy in the sun’s warmth while she discreetly served. She used to sneak me leftover bread. Then, she disappeared not long after another dear friend, only to reappear recently as one of the Turned.
“Finn,” she mouthed. “What business does a stable hand have in the guest wing during daylight hours?”
She’s performing.I could see it in the stiff set of her shoulders, the way her disdain felt practiced. I kept my head down, eyes fixed on her mouth, playing my part, and gestured to the pitcher.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why wouldyoube delivering blood?”
I feigned confusion and shrugged.
“Don’t play dumb with me, you flawed pest,” shehissed.
I pointed to the blood again and attempted to step around her. I kept my eyes locked on her mouth. It wasn’t a choice, really; it was how I navigated the world. At least she didn’t mumble.
“Useless,” she spat, though her gaze softened for a fraction of a second. “Be quick about it, then.” She swept past me.
The guest wing loomed ahead. My grip tightened on the pitcher. It was an excuse, not protection.
Lady Ilyana’s door waited like a verdict, cracked open when I reached it. I told myself this was routine, that she wanted something mundane. I wasn’t walking into a trap. Yet fear curled low in my gut, and I knew better than to dismiss it.
I knocked, feeling the vibrations travel up my arm.
My pulse quickened with fear. This was how servants disappeared.
She opened the door, her posture perfect. However, something in the way she held herself with coiled tension spoke of violence rather than noble breeding.
She was beautiful in the way all Born vampires were, with an effortless, predatory grace that made my clumsy existence feel even more inadequate.
You wanted to see me, ma’am?I signed, keeping my head bowed but my eyes up.
She motioned for me to enter. Her hands moved, slow and careful.How…She paused, fingers hesitating mid sign, then corrected herself.How are you feeling?
I set the pitcher on a nearby table and flexed my shoulders.Healed. The burns are gone.
Good.She gestured toward the pitcher.Is that for me?
I nodded. She smiled and poured a glass, then handed it to me. I hesitated; servants weren’t supposed to have thefresher blood the nobility sipped, but she pressed it into my hand anyway.
Sit.She indicated a chair as she settled into her own.
