AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She hardly expected praise from Lemoine. The woman seemed incapable of saying anything without making it an insult. But she could be civil. Well, if Lemoine could not be pleasant, then Charlotte felt no compunction to return the favor. She’d never been deliberately rude before. How exciting.
Charlotte had not mistaken the wind for the commotion in the corridor last night, and the injury on her thumb was not her imagination. It was real. A beast had been outside her door.
“She’s a liar,” Charlotte said. Then, almost in a whisper, “A shitty liar.”
She feared she was not adept at profanity, but practice would help. Lemoine would certainly provide plenty of inspiration.
By the time she finished dressing and arranged her hair, Charlotte was resolved. If Miles were being held captive, she would help him. Somehow.
“The way to a woman’s heart is through the library,” Charlotte muttered under her breath. If that were true, she dreaded the journey.
“Pardon? Did you say something?” Lemoine asked in a too-sweet voice.
“This library is charming.” Charlotte plastered on a pleasantly bland expression.
The library wasn’t bad, per se, but it was underwhelming. The room was tiny and cramped, barely larger than a storeroom. No tables. No chairs. Simply four walls lined with bookcases, nothing more. At least those shelves were full. Light panels on the ceiling did not provide enough light to comfortably read. Charlotte had to pull books from the shelf to hold them to the light to read their spines. The entire bottom shelf was lost to shadows. The books themselves were rather worn and tattered.
She expected an ancient vampire to have amassed a considerable collection, not…this. All right, she could admit it was bad. The Aerie’s library was atrocious, but Charlotte would be damned before she said a negative word against it.
All afternoon while on their tour of the Aerie, Lemoine took offense to whatever Charlotte said. Lemoine took her through the Aerie from top to bottom, starting with the greenhouses on the upper levels. When Charlotte asked how could the greenhouses feed the entire population, Lemoine said in a clipped tone that the valley grew most of the Aerie’s food and they stored it for the winter months. Charlotte got the same response when she inquired about livestock. “We only keep a few chickens, for fresh eggs. We do know how to salt and store meat.”
Charlotte switched tactics, no longer asking questions but remarking on the efficiency or ingenuity of design. The mess hall? Remarkable that it could serve two hundred people at a time. The kitchens? Terribly organized. The barracks? Cozy. Private quarters? Spacious. The commissary? So many vendors. Any comment Charlotte made deepened the frown on Lemoine’s face.
The main thing Charlotte noticed was the wide berth people gave when they saw Lemoine coming. One man, carrying a stack of folders, turned a corner, saw them, and promptly turned around. Apparently, she was sour to everyone, not just Charlotte. That was heartwarming in a way.
The tour skipped the armory, training facility, stables, or anything militia-related, Charlotte noted. While she was anxious to find Miles, she didn’t want to rouse Lemoine’s suspicion. Too many questions about dungeons and whatnot and she’d find herself locked back in her room. As it was, Lemoine acted like Charlotte was a spy actively gathering intelligence for enemy forces. Heavens forbid that she ask about the tech casually used in the Aerie.
The more she saw, the more she realized that the Aerie was a complex labyrinth with many floors, corridors, and possibly a few secret passages. She couldn’t hope to explore it all in a month, let alone one afternoon. While Lemoine’s tour did not bring them anywhere close to a holding cell or dungeon, Charlotte felt confident that she’d locate them. If anyone caught her poking around where she shouldn’t be, she’d claim to be lost.
Considering all the corridors, stairs, and lack of windows, it wouldn’t be a lie. The Aerie, while massive, had a sameness to it. The walls were constructed of gray stone, smooth and featureless. Light panels—original and miraculously still functioning after two centuries—affixed to the ceiling barely offered enough light. The entire complex seemed shrouded in shadows. Some destinations, such as the massive assembly room, stood out, but one shadowy corridor looked much like another.
“This library is adequate. It does not compare to the Master’s private library,” Lemoine said.
Charlotte perked up at the mention of a private library. That had to be where Draven stashed the good stuff. “May I see that?”
“No. It is private,” she replied in an icy tone.
“Lord Draven said I was permitted everywhere.”
“Excluding the restricted area, yes.”
“Including the library?”
“Lord Draven’s private library,” Lemoine said in a tone that invited no further questions.
Well, Charlotte would find a way into the private library on her own. She smiled pleasantly. “I imagine there’s plenty in here to keep me occupied. Are you a reader?”
“No. I have an occupation.” Lemoine unsubtly lifted the watch fob hanging around her neck on a chain. “I must return to my duties. I trust you will be able to find your way to your rooms.”
“Yes, thank you.” Charlotte turned her back, dismissing her. It wasn’t quite the cut, but it was the best she could do. She’s had enough of the older woman’s judgmental tone. Some people really were more tolerable in small doses.
Charlotte kept her gaze on the bookshelf before her, randomly pulling down volumes as if they interested her, all the while listening to Lemoine’s retreat. Once alone, she relaxed. Being the focus of Lemoine’s ire was exhausting work. Surely the woman’s loyalty and protectiveness to Lord Draven spoke to the qualities of the man to inspire such devotion, but it currently felt like a burden.
Well, now that she was free of the woman, Charlotte intended to explore. She grabbed an interesting volume from the shelf for plausible deniability and journeyed down the corridor and the nearest staircase.
Without a map or an idea of where prisoners would be held, she traveled downward. That seemed correct. In novels, prisoners were also kept at the top of isolated towers or in the darkest depths of the dungeon. The Aerie had one tower which, she had been informed several times, were Lord Draven’s private quarters. Seeing as how the vampire in question threatened her life over dinner, she did not wish to be caught trespassing and test his ire.
But he did carefully tend to her injured thumb. The moment had been…Charlotte hesitated to call it tender, but it certainly had been warmer than she expected. Draven insisted on performing these acts of care for her—forcing his coat and gloves on her, bandaging a cut—and acted offended while he did so, like she begged and pleaded for his assistance. Hardly. She was perfectly capable of wrapping gauze around her finger, thank you very much.
